Chapter 18

Except for the one CD he put out. There is that, though whether or not he’ll want to talk about it, I don’t know. I won’t say he was a one-hit wonder, but that iswhat the radio DJs call him whenever they queue up his song. On the one hand, at least it’s getting airtime still. On the other, I’m not sure he’d want to be reminded it only plays on Flashback Friday.

The light turns green; I tuck my cup into the holder between the seats and start through the intersection. I’m about halfway across Temple when a beat-up car with out-of-state plates runs the light—that lane has a “No Turn on Red” sign, I know, I’ve been caught by it myself. The jackass pulls out right in front of me, cutting me off and missing the front of my car by mere inches.

I slam on the brakes before I end up in his backseat. “Fucking asshole,” I mutter as I lay on my horn. Where’s a cop when you need one?

The driver of the car sticks an arm out the window, middle finger raised high.