'Door's open.' I heard it open and close. Whiff of scent. 'Hi, Kirsty, Whaddya need?' Cautious Doug. Thanksgiving had been a bummer. Sure, Tanya was a...knockout, but a fifteen year old knockout might as well be on Mars, far as I'm concerned, and making moves on her big sister while she was in the house seemed like way too much effort. Fuckin' ability was jerking my chain, I decided. Sure, I invited them to turkey and pie, but putting up with goddam High School prattle, trying not to think about. “Can’t help it, I just fucking love blowing things up.” And let me tell you, it’s not only bombs she has that effect on.She wipes pearls of sweat off her forehead before doing a 180°-handbrake-dirt-cloud drift, parking up in front of an abandoned factory building. She springs out of the vehicle leaving the engine and the blue lights on, shaking her long blonde curls out of her beret, while I get the bomb suits from the storage compartment.“I let you take charge,” she announces. “I’ll be no2.. More

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