Page 229 of Fallout (Crank 3)


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breasted, fiery-haired, “won’t take

no for an answer” temptation.

I swear I will never do such

an idiotic thing again. Nikki

means too much to me. I stop,

dig out my cell phone, excise

Leah’s number from its memory

bank. All’s well that ends well.

SPARKS HAS TALENT

So much talent that the city now

hosts two of these imitation bad

reality TV shows every year, on

July Fourth and at Hometowne

Christmas. A group of hopeful

singers, dancers, and baton twirlers

paces on one side of the stage.

The audience is likely all friends

and family members, plus a few

curious onlookers and people

just trying to get inside, out of the cold.

Montana is across the room, in deep

conversation with some guy.

His back is to me, but his posture

tells me much. The guy thinks a lot

of himself. Montana sees me

and smiles. The guy turns his

head to see who she’s smiling at,

and before I can

even discern

his eyes, I know they’re piebald.

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