Page 11 of Cinder
Ghost turns slowly as Fletch points dramatically at him, slamming his hips to the left then shaking them to the right, while loudly butchering the chorus as it thumps through the bay.
“How do you know all the words?”
Fletch ignores him, far too busy performing for his non-existent audience, but his eyes dart to Colt when he starts heading directly for the speakers. “Hey! Relax, Sporty Spice.”
Colt sighs loudly. “I swear to God, Fletch.”
“What? You’re definitely Sporty. Strong, dependable, real team pl—”
“Say it again, and I’m throwing you outta the bay.”
Fletch grins, then flicks his attention toward me. “What about you, Baby, you—”
“Don’t,” I cut in, without looking up.
Ghost leans against the truck, watching me work. “You’re not beating that one.”
“I’m not answering to it.”
“You already did.”
I shake my head, adjusting the hose again just to double-check it. “I’m not Baby Spice.”
“It’s okay, Ev, denial’s part of the journey,” says Fletch. “And you’d look great with pigtails.”
The sound of a police cruiser rolls past the open bay, slow enough to pull our attention.
Fletch straightens slightly, squinting after it. “That Tucker?”
“Looks like it,” Colt says.
The driver eases off the gas when he sees us, window already sliding down as he leans across it.
“You boys got time to give my cruiser a once-over?”
Yup. Kane Tucker. I’d know that smug face anywhere.
“’S what you do best, isn’t it, Tuck?” I call over. “Get the FD to clean up your messes.”
Tucker taps the side of his cruiser. “Figured I’d swing by later, get a proper detail. She’s looking a bit rough, could do with a freshen up.”
“Yeah, we’ll get right on that,” Colt says, glancing over. “High-pressure hose should freshen it up and strip it back to bare metal.”
Fletch huffs a laugh. “Full package.”
“Perfect,” Tucker says easily. “Inside could use it too.”
“Sure,” I reply. “We’ll just flood it out. Same system you boys use for paperwork.”
Tucker grins, taking the hit without issue, then nods toward the rack behind me.
“That line actually gonna pull, Prince?”
“It’ll pull,” I say.
He looks at me for a beat, then smirks. “Unlike you on a Saturday night at Neverland, then.”
Colt barks a laugh, and Fletch chokes on his.
