Chapter 8
Vin opened the door to a teenage girl, her arms crossed over a tight T-shirt that outlined barely formed breasts. She wore her ash brown hair tied back in a complicated-looking knot and had a scowl that would have given a pit bull pause.
“Morning,” he said, puzzled.
Her eyebrows furrowed and she glanced up at the sky; nothing to see there but clouds and the occasional airplane. “It’s after lunch.”
“I just got up,” Vin said. “Can I help you?”
The admission of his innate laziness clearly did not endear Vin to his caller, and he was just getting ready to shut the door in her angry face when she burst into tears.
“What the actual f**k?”
“How could you do this?” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and brandished it at him. “What the hell do you think you
