Blast Along Clean

You plead with me not to introduce Oxenberg Rassmuellengeri into this book, seeing as how we already have so many characters, and most readers can’t keep up with more than, say, three to five characters at a time. And I’m like, Fine fine fine. I’ll leave him out. He’s a dickhead, anyway, and that idea for a book was born of my intense frustration with his extreme assholishness. That, and my frustration that my ex had anything to do with him.

So, since we’re not doing that, I guess that means we’ll have to deal with some other villain. It’s not like we have a shortage, sadly.

I rocket the car through the narrow side streets of Soma, picking up where we left off way back on day 3. Remember? Probably not. So allow me to refresh you.

The guy with dark hair, from the park. I don’t know him. But you do. You guys are friends, however it is that you know each other. His name is Cade. If you’ve been to Azza-Jono, don’t confuse him with Clade, okay? Totally different. Like, not the same at all.

As you might recall but probably don’t, we’d left the park together, gone over to his car that’s street parked nearby. It’s an American muscle car, which you know I’m into.

You started out in the back in those little bucket seats, and I was riding up front witcha boy, Cade.

We were hauling ass out of the city, listening to this tune:

The car smells like a guy’s car—like, too much cologne (though not entirely unpleasantly so), ‘new car’ smell, and a hint of surface cleaner.

Cade’s face is lit blue and red from the console lights. He’s giving me looks, the kind I’m used to from back in the day, like he wants some.

I look into the backseat where you are.

If we’ve unlocked my telepathic ability, I ask you mentally, Do you want me to do him? And you can just reply by thinking what you want to happen. I’ll nod and turn back around, smile knowingly at Cade.

If you haven’t gotten to the mind reading stuff yet; or, worse still, have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, then I just furrow my brow, turn back around, cross my arms. You make of that whatever you do.

In any case, we keep going, harder and faster than before.