Chapter 9: Cookie Coke and Swans“This is not good,” Sandy says, bouncing up and down in the passenger seat of his Christmas red Ford F-150 Raptor. “It’s snowing like a fucker.”
I shouldn’t be driving, Jonah thinks. I’ve been drinking strong eggnogs and smoking pot. Shame on me. Shame. Shame. Shame. But he doesn’t pull over and let his fiancé drive, even though he should. Instead, he’s planted behind the wheel of the hulking truck and also bounces up and down. “I haven’t seen a forecast. But you’re right. It doesn’t look good. It’s been doing this for the last hour.”
“Do you have the wipers on high?”
“As high as they will go.”
“Good boy.”
“Do I get a treat?”
Sandy plays naughty. “Yeah. You can have my stick in your mouth later.”
Jonah chuckles. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
