“Well, I’ll give her a ride to your place. You take her bag, and—” “I got her.” “You got her?” “Yeah.” “Crash, you’re running a solo seat,” Cole said, pointing out the obvious. “She’ll ride the fender.” “You’re shittin’ me, right?” “Nope.” “Crash, you live in fucking Oakland.” “Know where I live, Cole.” “It’s forty miles.” “Yep.” Cole grinned. “You even got foot pegs?” “I got those long bolts I put on.” Crash grinned. “You did see the fucking ridiculous shoes she’s wearin’, right?” “You worry too much.” Cole shrugged. “Okay. It’s your face she’s gonna scratch off.” “By the time I get her home,
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