Page 14 of Road Queens
“You called me Sarah for two months,” Sidney reminded her.
“Sure, but I didn’t forget yourface.” To the cop: “Yeah, I remember you. And as a test, why don’t you tell me where I met you before? And I’ll tell you if you’re right.”
Cass laughed. “Actually, we’ve all—” She cut herself off, and her smile fell away. Amanda guessed why, then turned around and had the(dubious) satisfaction of being right.Behold, the world’s first sentient skin tag. How’d he even know she was in town? Must be an awful, awful, awful coincidence.
“The hell you doing here?” Shrillandnasal, the vocal calling card of the asshat. “You don’t live here anymore.”
“And as everyone knows, you’re only allowed to exist in the town, city, or stretch of woods where your house, trailer, or shack is located.” Amanda showed her teeth in what only an idiot would assume was a smile. “Good God, are you getting shorter?”
Jeff Manners spat, because the dichotomy of his name and his nature was beyond ironic, and focused his venom on Cass, who looked equal parts amused and wary. “You know your dad’s still dead, right? And your mom got run out of town? So nobody here wants you around?”
Amanda snickered. “It’s so cute that you think you speak for four thousand five hundred people.”
Undaunted, Manners finished with: “So you should just get the fuck lost.”
Amanda smirked. “Projecting again, Jeff?”
“I’m not a projector!” Jeff Manners: petite, terrible dancer, thinks bachelor’s degrees are for pussies. Jeans out at the knees, denim vest, no shirt, motorcycle boots that made him two inches less petite. “I just wanted to know why you’re still riding that baby bike.”
It was a Triumph Street Twin, and he damned well knew it. Amanda popped a curd in her mouth. “My mistake; you’re not projecting, you’re sulking. Time to face up to the cold fact that we effortlessly outbid you. And not for the first time. So here’s some more free and friendly advice: maybe upgrade from your sadass pussymobile before shitting on my ride?”
Detective Beane swallowed a laugh as Jeff flushed. Manners had been a bully since elementary school, likely because of his unfortunate domestic situation, too bad, so sad; he was in his late twenties now and responsible for his own actions. Thank God he hadn’t yet reproduced.The only good Manners was Sonny, who owned the bike shop on the edge of town.
The best part: Manners was a walking, talking, farting example of raging short man syndrome. The worst part: His fair skin and (thinning) carrot-colored hair meant that when he was angry, he resembled a denim-clad fire hydrant. Strangers occasionally mistook his tantrums for strokes.
He had one thing going for him—he was a dealer who didn’t use. She admired the discipline. But still, dealer.
“I don’t gotta take shit from you. You’re so fucked up, you can’t decide if you wanna fuck women or men.”
“The bike you desperately want but will never have runs like a dream,” Amanda continued, smiling, smiling.I really think I could give him an aneurysm. A snark-based aneurysm. I must only use this power for good.“Love that 900cc engine. A bargain, really. Too bad you missed out. Again.”
The Triumph had only one real drawback: Larger riders felt cramped. Which wasn’t a drawback if you were shorter than five feet five and weighed less than 150 pounds. It was small but looked badass, which was why Jeff wanted it so badly, and it was so light, it often didn’t trigger stoplights.
“Are you all right?” Beane asked, perhaps prompted by how quickly Jeff’s face was beginning to resemble a wet Red Delicious apple.
Mmmm ... empathy is the new sexy.
Manners ignored him. “Nobody wants you here,” he informed Cass. “You should just motor the fuck away.”
“That’s fine,” Cass replied, unperturbed. “I don’t want me here either.”
“Your mom had the right idea,” Manners said, adding, “she just didn’t take it far enough.”
Amanda leaned over and held Cass’s arm so that the other woman wouldn’t rise, grab one of the plastic utensils that came with theirbreakfast, and perform a tracheotomy on Jeff Manners, despite the fact that his breathing wasn’t impeded in any way.
“Hey, Manners. D’you know what’s sadder than peaking in high school?” Sidney was looking him over with an expression that suggested she didn’t like what she saw. Not even a little. “Not peakingever. Thanks for stopping by, now go suck somewhere else.”
“You—you fu—you—you mother—fu—”
“Sir, do you require an ambulance?” Sean had his phone out in half a tick. So brave! Or at least quick. “It’s possible you’re succumbing to heat exhaustion.”
“No, no,” Amanda protested. “If anything, it’s a snark aneurysm! And I get the credit!”
“Should we pull a betting pool together?” Cass asked. “I’ll put ten on snark right now.” And just like that, the three women were laughing together like there’d never been a crack in their trio.
“Stay the fuck out of my bro’s shop,” Manners commanded.
“Why the hell would I need to visit your brother’s shop?” Cass asked with honest curiosity. “You know there’s no point. The whole town knows.”
