Nick Roski stepped onto the curb of City Plaza, skipping over a puddle of motor oil as a tricked out, lifted Montego buzzed behind his ankles.
“Who fucking aftermarkets a 2005 Montego?” Nick mumbled, aloud, and a little Bengali lady looked at him like he might have been asking her a question.
“Hi,” he said, not knowing what else to say, and she smiled nervously at him.
As Nick turned, a guy coming out of Shamrock Auto Parts stepped on his foot.
Guy apologized, Nick just shrugged.
Thought about Beller complaining that the town was getting crowded, then going off on Beller about it.
“They’re building up, Nicky. Two new highrises ‘bout fourteen, fifteen stories each.Hundreds of units. Town’s getting too fucking crowded.”
Nick felt bad that he went off on Beller about it. Turned to go into Hank’s Oasis and bumped shoulders with a guy walking in from the south. Beller.
“Sunny!” Nicky said.
Beller was “Sunny” the way an obese guy was “Tiny.”
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