The blacked-out Hummer had pulled up right in front of the bus stop, and as the window went down, White Boy was full-on insane-in-the-membrane behind the wheel - and not just because Cypress Hill was, in fact, blaring.
"Get in! Come on! Get in!"
"What the fuck you do, yo?" Jonsey stuttered, even as he shot around behind the SUV and jumped into the passenger seat.
Holy motherfucking shit - bitch ass was not a total fool, not pulling off something like this.
The guy floored the accelerator, the engine roared, and the teeth of the tires grabbed onto the snowpack and shot them forward at fifty miles an hour.
Jonsey held on to whatever he found as they went gunning through a red-light intersection and then rode up over the curb and across the parking lot of a Hannaford. As they shot out on the far side, the music buried the beeping sound that was going off because no one had put their seat belts on.
Jonsey started grinning. "Fuckin' yes, motherfucker! You crazy bitch, you fucking crazy ass snowflake...!"
"I think that's Justin Bieber."
Standing in front of a lineup of Lay's potato chips, Qhuinn looked overhead to the speaker inset into the ceiling tiles. "Yup. I'm right, and I hate that I know that."
Next to him, John Matthew signed, How do you know?
"The little shit is everywhere." To prove the point, he motioned to a greeting card display featuring Short, Cocky, and Fifteen-Minutes-Are-Up. "I swear, that kid is proof the Antichrist is coming."
Maybe it's already here.
"Would explain Miley Cyrus."
Good point.
As John went back to contemplating his finger food of choice, Qhuinn double-checked the store. Four a.m. and the CVS was fully stocked and completely empty - except for the two of them and the guy up at the front counter, who was reading a National Enquirer and eating a Snickers bar.
No lessers. No Band of Bastards.
Nothing to shoot.
Unless that Bieber display counted.
What are you going to have? John signed.
Qhuinn shrugged and kept looking around. As John's ahstrux nohtrum, he was responsible for making sure the guy came back to the Brotherhood's mansion every night in one piece, and after well over a year, so far, so good....
God, he missed Blay.
Shaking his head, he randomly reached forward. When his arm came back at him, he'd snagged some sour cream and onion.
Looking at the Lay's logo, and the close-up of a single chip, all he could think of was the way he and John and Blay used to hang out at Blay's parents' house, playing Xbox, drinking beers, dreaming of bigger and better posttrans lives.
Unfortunately, bigger and better had turned out to be only the size and strength of their bodies. Although maybe that was just his POV. John was, after all, happily mated. And Blay was with...
Shit, he couldn't even say his cousin's name in his head.
"You good, J-man?" he asked roughly.
John Matthew snagged a Doritos old-school original and nodded. Let's get drinks.
As they headed deeper into the store, Qhuinn wished they were downtown, fighting in the alleys, going up against either of their two enemies. Too much downtime on these suburban details, and that meant too much dwelling on -
He cut himself off again.
Whatever. Besides, he hated having any contact with the glymera - and that shit was mutual. Unfortunately, members of the aristocracy were gradually moving back to Caldwell, and that meant Wrath had gotten inundated with calls about so-called slayer sightings.