“Colin’s all right.” As Ange coasted to a stop at a red light, he pointed to his own cheek where the oil smudged Tyler’s. “You got something right there.”
Tyler wiped at his face with one dirty sleeve. “You’re coming, right?”
Ange sighed. “I guess.” Why did he always give in so easily?
* * * *
By quarter after eight, Tyler paced the small apartment, cologne wafting after him like a vapor trail. “Where are they?” he asked, not for the first time.
Ange started, “They’ll be here—”
Outside, a car horn brayed into the night and Tyler dashed for the side door. “Wait!” Ange called out after him, but it was useless. Tyler bounded to the street, where Lamar’s polished Trans Am sat like a bruise against the curb.
As Ange locked up the apartment, he heard a car door slam and then Lamar’s brigh
