32
Tired. That was the only remnant from her night of drinking and crying. Since Ethan still had the keys to the company truck, Carli rode shotgun, slumped low in the seat with her knees braced on the dash. With her eyes half-closed, she switched her gaze from the scene outside the passenger window to Ethan. They had shared stories of previous evenings spent in a drunken haze.
“So, just like in the movies? The pool cue just snaps?” Carli asked.
“Assuming the object it hits is struck with enough force. Otherwise it leaves a hell of a welt.”
“Is there a scar?”
He glanced at her, as her comment seemed a bit too enthusiastic. “I’m not sure. Only Big T and his cell mate know that answer.”
She smiled and looked through the windshield, then straightened in the seat as they exited Highway 13
