– Do not pick that up.

I flipped the phone open.

– White Lightning Tattoo.

Chev jammed a hand in his pocket, going for his keys.

– Asshole!

I nodded my head, phone at my ear, backing from the door.

– A string of barbed wire? Around your biceps? Yeah, sure, we can do that.

Chev turned the key.

– Do not say another word.

I covered the mouthpiece with my hand.

– No, its cool, I can handle this.

He pushed the door open.

– Give me the phone.

I took my hand from the mouthpiece.

– Sure, sure, we can do that wire around your arm. We can also tattoo lameass foser wannabe on your forehead.

Chev came at me, grabbing for the phone.

I held it over my head, screaming.

– Or how about you just get a unicorn on your hip so people will know what a real man you are!

Chev snagged my wrist.

– Asshole.

I jerked my hand free, yelling at the phone.

– Or a rainbow on your ankle!

And it flew from my hand and hit the polished cement floor and cracked open and the screen shattered into five pieces.

We stood there and looked at the phone.

I toed one of the pieces.

– So, I guess I wont be blowing off Po Sin in the morning.

THE LAST TIME I'D SEEN HER

Chevs mom and dad are dead.

Which is why I cant make jokes about fucking his mom when he starts making jokes about fucking mine. Its also why hes constantly in my ass about calling my mom and being nicer to her and being more responsible so she doesnt have to worry about me. Like my mom worries. Like she can retain a single coherent thought long enough to work up a good worry. Not that I want to rag on her or anything, I mean, shes my mom. But life hasnt disrupted her mellow since, like, 1968. How is anything I do or say gonna break that trend?