15
Drive, He Said – Pere Ubu
The geezer who’d picked me up like I was a little kid was big. Big, black and bald. And built like the proverbial. He had muscles on muscles. Biceps so vast they stretched the sleeves of his black suit almost to ripping point, and quads that filled his trousers the same. He even had muscles in his face that moved under his skin so when he spoke he resembled Dizzy Gillespie taking a solo. And he was sweating cobs. The inside of the SUV was cool. They must have been running the A/C. But even so, the geezer was soaked, and the atmosphere stank like a hog’s privates.
‘Sit up,’ he ordered, and gestured with the automatic pistol that had magically appeared in his left hand. ‘Empty your pockets.’
I pulled myself up onto the back bench seat and, for the second time
