Except it wouldn’t open. She felt her pockets, panicking. She looked in her window. And sure enough, her keys were in the seat. She slammed her fist...on the window.“Shit,” she said.“Potty mouth,” I shot at her. She glared at me and then laughed.“Asshole.”“That’s me,” I smirked.She pulled out her phone and dialed her insurance company to get her car lock popped.Then it started sprinkling.“Oh shit!” she exclaimed.I, calm as always in situations involving life or death…or maybe dignity, opened my. ." It'll be all right, Stick," Mary soothed. "Your friends will all understand..." Like Nate?" Stick grunted."Nate will be all right. He's just going to need a bit. Nora won't LET him get stupid; he'll probably be all right tomorrow." My friends are gonna shit on me..." Stick husked."Who are your REAL friends, Stick? Nate, Draper, us, Nora... Is there REALLY anyone else?" Mary challenged."Well, mebbe not," Stick agreed reluctantly. "But the crowd in the 'hood are gonna line up to give me. More

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