Page 70 of Vile Bastards
“I’ve gotta go.” I move past him before I can drop further into that memory hole, heading down the front steps to see that Widow’s sitting in his Stingray. I narrow my eyes and storm over to the car, yanking the passenger side door open and climbing in. I slam it shut, and we sit there with KMZI 66.6 playing at a low volume.
“Make sure to tune in tomorrow to listen to our play-by-play of Mayor Kelly’s press conference. He’s finally going to address the city on the subject of his now-deceased son, Ash Kelly. Frankly, I don’t think he cares much either way. More than likely, he’s going to cultivate and harvest public sympathy in an effort to push the upcoming vote on expanding the urban growth boundary.” Wolfman sighs, and I hear a rustling, as if he’s shaking his head in disgust. “What’s your take on this one, Nessie?”
The newest and youngest KMZI host steps in as I turn my head to glance over at Widow. I look back down at the clothes in my arms, and then I chuck them in his direction. He makes a face, grabbing the bundle and shoving it onto the empty space between us.
“There’s a measure on the next ballot advocating for the expansion of the UGB. Let me offer a quick explanation as to why that’s a terrible idea: sprawl development decimates local greenbelts, poses significant risk to local wildlife, and opens the city up to even higher risk of wildfire damage. UGBs encourage tighter, more dense growth in existing cities, creating more vibrant, walkable neighborhoods with less reliance on cars, more affordable and easily accessible public transportation, and the opportunity to introduce housing that’s within reach of all members of the community.
“Mayor Kelly has always been a staunch advocate of expanding the UGB and adding yet more sprawl development in an effort to pad his buddy’s pockets. Archer Realty rakes in massive profits from these deals. It’s easy to see why the mayor would push for this measure to pass—and it has nothing to do with protecting the city of Springfield and its existing citizens.”
I turn the radio off and rub at my face.
Right.
The press conference is tomorrow morning, the one where Ash is supposed to stand beside his father and address the community about Aspen’s death. Or rather … Aspen is supposed to address Ash’s death. But you get what I mean.
“You son of a bitch,” I murmur, aching all over and wondering if Officer Tidwell—the female truant officer—would notice if I just mounted Widow right here in his car, dead center in front of the school. If she’d see the bouncing of the vehicle and know what we were up to. I’d probably get arrested for fucking a seventeen-year-old.
“I told you not to wear that shirt.” He slides a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, rolls his window down and lights up. I’m just staring at him and wondering if the shaking in his hands is from his post-coital comedown or if he’s beating himself up over what just happened. Could be either or even both things simultaneously. “How long are you planning on sitting on top of my fucking car?” Widow grinds out, clenching the cigarette so tightly between his fingers that it almost bends.
It takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about, and then Bohnes is sliding off the roof and landing beside my window. I roll it down so that he can rest one arm on the roof, leaning in to talk to us.
I’m impressed. He was able to climb on top of the ‘Vette, and I didn’t even notice. Widow did, though. Kudos to him.
“I spoke to my hacker contact. Meeting’s on Thursday after school. I’ll arrange for the rich boys to meet us there.” Bohnes pats the top of the car and leans in even further to peer at Widow. Then he sniffs the air and wrinkles his nose. “It smells like sex in here.”
“Because I fucked my future wife in the library and left her there drenched in cum.” Widow exhales and then takes another drag on his cigarette, glancing casually over in Bohnes’ direction. Meanwhile, I just laugh. Because I told the guy to go for it and well, here he is. And hello, you slippery little bitch. I’m going to get him back for that stunt. “Why would we need to meet a hacker in person? And why would they”—I’ve never heard such a neutral pronoun used like a derogatory slur—“need to be there?”
“Hackers don’t trust tech because they hack it, you braindead moron.” Bohnes smiles tightly, but I can see how twitchy he is about Widow’s declarative future wife statement. “My contact wants to meet the silk-stocking boys in person to see if they are who they say they are. It’s a big risk, taking on this project. It makes sense to me.”
