Excerpt “So what do you think?” Chris stood with his elbow leaning casually on the open door of his jet black panel van. He looked up at me expectantly. “Pretty sweet ride, huh?” “If you’re a serial killer,” I said, cautiously descending the steps. Chris’s head snapped around with surprise, his eyes almost as dark as the van itself. He slammed the car door and folded his arms, glowering at me as I approached. “I’ll have you know, Toby and I have spent the better part of six months fixing this old girl up.” I wrinkled my nose. “Really?” “It’s got a 308 and a four barrel carby.” “Why, it could be grease lightning,” I smirked. I didn’t think a death stare could vary in so many ways, but Chris had mastered a variety of pissed-off stares like no other. The one he was now casting me was a whole… Read more »
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