Nodding, Stacy walked around the car, keeping it between himself and Lamar. If his friend knew? If he even suspected? Holy hell. To Lamar, Ange said, “You don’t know. Look at it.”
“The paint’s scraped,” Lamar muttered.
“Lookat it,” Ange reasoned. “The framework’s dirty, bugs and shit and who knows what else all up in there. The paint’s beginning to fleck away. This didn’t just happen.”
Coming up around the back of the car, Stacy tapped Colin’s seat. “Let me in,” he whispered. Colin leaned forward and popped the seat release, then folded over as Stacy climbed in behind him. When he started to say something, Stacy said, “Shh. I want to hear.”
But there wasn’t much else said. Lamar picked at the scar for a few more minutes while Ange assured him it must’ve happened at the shop. Then they got in the car, Ange climbing over Colin to sit beside Stacy and Lamar muttering under his breath, “I’m gonna hurt someone. Oh Christ, I’m gonna kill them. I swear it.”