Brandon
Ethan Greyson was acting like an entitled, pompous brat.
Or, not really. Brandon just needed something from him, and he was being an asshole about it.
“What makes you think I have a yacht?” Ethan asked. He had his arms crossed over his chest. The guy was wearing chinos and a plaid shirt with freaking boat shoes.
Everyone—well, except for Brandon’s mom, Nora, Zuri, and Ayanne—gathered around the back of Jack’s truck.
Zuri’s freaking zombie apocalypse victim was just a lump of trash wrapped into a blue tarp. His head was in a trash bag tied in a knot. It was a different feeling, knowing Zuri would do alright if everyone turned into zombies and they had to get away.
Jack called Cal earlier to see if they could ask a favor. One, everyone was positive Ethan would be able to fulf
