Chapter 14
My laughter sounds like a horse neighing. I shut my mouth, put my phone away, slam the shift stick into drive. None of this is funny. And I'm tired. Trying to understand a woman, particularly Meshango, without a decent night's sleep is stupid. Why can't people just say what they think without all the games?
I stay inside the minivan's earlier tracks, drive out onto the road, paying special attention to the patches of what the weatherman reports as black ice. On the coast I remember wondering what the hell they meant. Ice isn't black. Now I know. Half a block later the car's rear end hits a black spot, slides sideways. I right the vehicle. Adrenaline rush.
No more delays—I'll have the shop install studded tires in the morning.
Conscious of the faint ache in the back of my nec
