CHAPTER 2
SOMEONE MUST HAVE mentioned the word “party” to Bradley, because he rocked up at four o’clock laden down with bags, boxes, and half a liquor store. The suspension on the hot-pink pickup he was driving groaned under the weight.
“Bradley, which part of ‘a quiet night in with pizza’ didn’t you understand?”
I loved Bradley dearly, but sometimes his positive outlook made me want to eat a bullet.
“Don’t worry, we’re still having pizza. I pre-ordered everything on the menu except the one with pineapple. We’re not having pineapple again.”
Last time Bradley put pineapple on my pizza, I’d taken it out the back and fired ten rounds dead through the centre of it. Good to see he’d got the message.
“So what’s in the truck?”
“I just brought a few extra bits and pieces. Party poppers, bal
