Pecan whistles. “Remind me to never get in your bad books.”
“I’m assuming you have an update?” I grouse.
Callan pulls a face at me. “You and Denny suit each other with how bossy you both are. In fact, I demand praise.”
“He’s good at that, Callan.” She tugs on my hand. “Go on. He’s right, Mr. Grouch!”
“Oh, Callan, our overlord and savior.” I raise my hands into the prayer pose. “What would we ever do without you to ruin our enemies?”
He nods. “Praise accepted.
“Now, thanks to Shay and Victoria, who I love so dearly, we found out which address his social security number and driver’s license are attached to.”
Pecan, cautiously, asks, “Isn’t that, like… a federal crime?”
“Not in Callan’s country,” D is quick to answer.
“With President Devere being a douche, my government might reward me!”
Despite the update being new to Pecan and me, it obviously isn’t news to D. Doesn’t stop her from bouncing in her seat. “Ready for what’s about to show up at his front door? No? You’re not? Well, tough shit! The puck’s about to drop, guys!!”
Her grin twists as Pecan mumbles, “How the fuck do you find that kind of info, anyway?”
“Don’t ask and I won’t lie. All I’ll say is it was a beautiful day when we made friends with Victoria and Shay.” He kisses his fingers. “Their connections are a delight, and your plan is so close to fruition, Denver, that it’s a shame you can’t use it as an example for your classes. You’d get top grades!”
His face disappears with a few taps and some kind ofsomethingreplaces it. The image is distorted—goldfish bowl-style.
Pecan squints at the screen. “Is that a door cam?”
“Sure is.” Callan’s voiceover makes him sound like he’s narrating a documentary.
“The tickets, Callan?”
“Oh, yes. Exactly like you said. How did you even know about that?”
“Just did. Entitled assholes think the roads belong to them.”
“Shhh!” Pecan complains. “I’m concentrating.”
The picture is motionless aside from showing a front door stoop that makes me think the house is in New York City or Boston. Not manyplaces with brownstones. The image shifts when a couple people amble along the sidewalk and a car cruises past—a Lambo.
Pecan clicks his tongue. “That’s a damn nice ride.”
The car suddenly reverses. A pedestrian cries out in fear when the moron behind the wheel drives onto the curb and brakes bare inches away from the woman’s foot.
Enthralled, Denny presses her hand to her mouth while the rest of us exclaim:
“Asshole!”
“Whoa!”
“Moron.”
“God, the timing is working out perfectly!” she cries.
A less-than-smooth three-point turn later, the car’s pulling into a space outside the building and parking.
“That Lambo’s wasted on him,” Callan jeers.
