8
Meet N Greet
Cadillac Escalade. Full leather trim. Ling at the wheel. We passed by a flowing river on a sweeping rural highway. Gangster rap replaced by a Japanese pop playlist syncing with the SUV’s stereo. I kinda liked it. Ling sang along quietly in Japanese. She sung like an angel. Like an angel that couldn’t sing. But I wasn’t about to tell her.
The carjackers had left us some snacks. We left them a few broken bones and bullet holes on the warehouse floor.
I offered a big green bag of something called sour candy. Ling took a few and popped them in her mouth. I threw a couple in mine, bopping to the beat of the music. Ling’s face screwed up and she let out a little squeal. The sourness hit me a second later.
Jesus, the pain. I grabbed a couple more from the bag.
Ling slowed the
