Nick laughed. I’d heard him laugh like that before. A big old honk of a laugh, it usually permeated his mouth if someone got hit especially hard during prison ball. If they were out of shape or wearing glasses he really made a noise.
He looked at me, his mouth shut, almost a sneer.
“It really is all about you, isn’t it, McCall?”
I held his eye. He made a little ‘puh’ sound with his lips.
“Let me clue you in, ok? Just because my brother liked your sister, doesn’t mean I give two-“ he lowered his voice in case Pat had an ear out “-wet and bloody fucking farts-“ holding my eye and waiting a moment before going back to his normal speaking voice “-about your crummy movie-star sister. I know. You have tunnel vision. It’s difficult to imagine that anyone that lives in this town doesn’t think about anything other than the fact that the great and awesome Maddy McCall comes from here.”
We were getting near his stop.
“That’s not what I think,” I said.
Lucid cover sketch courtesy Jenny Dayton.
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