Devin breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the front door closed behind him. Dinner with his boss had gone well enough, even if Devin had spent most of the evening trying to remember which fork to use and wondering if he had food in his teeth. The boss’s wife seemed to have taken a liking to him, hugging him goodbye when he left, but the endless
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Jazz didn’t need to be told twice. He slammed his foot on the gas, his left working the clutch as he peeled away from the street corner. He didn’t look at the other man as he focused on the roads.
He would need to lose the cop, first. He could see the flashing blue lights in his rear view mirror, zeroing in on his car. With a quick drop of the emergency break, Jazz wheeled the car into a tight u-turn. He never lost control of the car, not even as its wheels squealed against the pavement before gaining traction. The cop struggled to keep up.
Highway wouldn’t work. He’d have to lose him in the streets -- find a tighter grid to out-maneuver the cop in. He hoped the cop didn’t call for back-up -- though in this neighborhood, Jazz was sure he already had ( ... )
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He’d gotten sick in a stranger’s car. A stranger’s nice car, and after the man had saved him from certain arrest, no questions asked. Devin’s face grew hot for the hundredth time since he’d been sent off to clean himself up; he wondered if it would be feasible to hide in the shower for the rest of his life. At least the police wouldn’t find him here, if they were still looking for him ( ... )
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