Page 95 of Five

“Sorry, no cholera. But I might have some mad cow disease at the base,” Sari replies to my crazy request. He’s such a sweetie.

I pick up the paper, and my frown turns into a wicked smile. It’s Crimson bartender’s phone number, Caterpillar Brows. He gave it to me that night…before dosing me, the shitbag. Maybe he can lead us to Bailey, or I can just beat his nuts until they turn into a red goo. Blood red should represent tranquility, blue is an overrated color.

“Hold on a sec,” I tell Sari, so I can text Caterpillar Brows. He answers straight away, and I know it’s fate. “Angel, stop whatever you’re doing. We are going on a special mission.”

“Mission?” He sounds adorably confused.

“We’re going hunting tonight,” I declare, turning my eyes to my sexiest clothes in the closet.

I park a couple of blocks away from the bar. I’m wearing my tightest, shortest skirt, red with a sexy slit on the side, and a snappy, sparkly tank top loose on the front with a crisscross back. My get-lucky scarlet pumps are on my feet, and I feel hot and ready to use their heels to pierce some testicles. My curls are loose and shiny, my nails painted lucky emerald and my glittery ruby eyeshadow and maroon eyeliner are daring and absolutely spectacular.

“From here, we have a good view of the bar entrance,” I say with excitement as I tilt my head to look outside the car window. I shift back to check my red kiss lipstick in the flippy sun visor. My statement is met with silence, so I turn toward Clover and Sari, sitting respectively in the passenger and back seats.

Clover is gawking at me with distress in his eyes, while Sari is white as a ghost, still grabbing the oh-shit handle in a tight-knuckled grip, other hand pulling at his braid.

“What?” I ask them.

“You’re a…terrible driver,” Sari whispers.

“It’s the first time I’ve heard you insult someone, and that someone is me… Awwww.” I cover my mouth, feeling honored to be someone’s first.

“I saw my whole life shuffle before my eyes.” Clover glares at me now.

“Flash before your eyes, Clover-bell,” I correct him.

“I don’t care, Lori! You almost hit a pole while screaming at an old man.”

“He shouldn’t cross when the pedestrian light is flashing.” Especially if he needs a cane to walk.

“Drove on two wheels for two blocks.”

“That curve was tighter than I thought. I might have lost a couple of tire bolts out there.” My chuckle earns more glowers from Clover; Sari is still recovering. “You’re both overreacting,” I huff.

“Over… You ran two red lights and drove into oncoming traffic!” It’s weird to see Clover this agitated, he’s a very laid-back person. My driving brings out people’s hidden sides.

“I couldn’t see after that mental pigeon decided my supermini barracuda was the perfect target to bomb with turd. How a small bird can poop that much is disgustingly staggering.” I turn my eyes toward the white and brown mess on the windshield. “I tried to clean it off with the wipers, but it got worse. Now it’s smeared everywhere.” Washing it is going to be a bitch. I’ll need a hose, a limitless amount of water, and some acid. Maybe I should just change the whole windshield.

“I’ll find another way back home, which will not be in your car,” Clover announces with finality.

“I’m sure Superman can fly you there,” I joke. Ungrateful, scaredy cat.

“We did fly and float in the air at one point when you didn’t slow down over that downhill road,” he reminds me.

“Supermini barracuda is a powerhouse. I wanted to show you guys the roar of her engine,” I say with excitement.

“I could barely hear you over that roar,” he hisses.

“I heard each one of your screams, Clover-bell. And I think you left the imprint of your fingers on the car door. Gabe just fixed her. Be gentle.”

“Do you have a sickness bag?” Sari teases—I think.

“Wednesday had so much fun, didn’t you dear?” I look at her perched in her own seat.

“Why the hell did you bring her?” Clover stupidly asks.

“She was restless at home. She wanted to go out, duh.”

“I think she laid an egg.” Sari lets me know.