We take my car because it’s sexier. Joey doesn’t argue. As he’s buckling in, he warns, “No ditching me for someone else.”
“Same with you,” I reply, zooming away from the curb. I have no place specific in mind, but cruising through the streets with my brother riding shotgun sounds like a decent start to the evening. “Look all you want but remember you’re coming home with me.”
We tear down Atlantic Avenue, sailing through all the yellow lights and one that turns red but I’m going too fast to stop. It’s barely eight o’clock but the night sky is deep and cloudless, the stars cold and bright and a million miles away. There’s no moon out yet. The boardwalk races along beside us and when it ends, I hang a hard left towards the beach and the darkly rolling surf at the edge of the world. A small
