Poisonfeather (Gibson Vaughn, #2)

by Matthew FitzSimmons

She shut the magazine again, removed the earbud closest to her unwanted companion, and stared at him. “What?” “I said, my name’s Tommy—” “I’m meeting someone,” she said. It was technically true, just not today. “Cool, so I’ll just keep you company until they get here.” “Christ, Tommy,” Margo snapped. “Girl couldn’t be saying ‘leave me alone’ any louder if she had a megaphone.” “I’m just trying to talk to her.” “She’s reading a magazine.” “It’s a bar, Margo.” “What? Everyone comes to bars to talk to you?” “Yeah, why not? Why else she here?” “Maybe eat her food and read her magazine like she’s doing?” “What the hell?” he asked rhetorically. “Come down the other end of the bar, and I’ll buy you a shot.” Old Charlie perked up at the prospect of free shots, Tommy less so. “Why you defending this stuck-up skank? I didn’t do nothing.” There it was. She’d gone from girl he wanted to meet to skank in less than sixty seconds. All for the sin of reading in a public place.

China and the United States were rivals, not sweethearts, and it didn’t pay to become enamored of these laowai. Despite their protestations to the contrary—their delusional American exceptionalism—there was nothing special about them. For sixty short years they’d mattered as a country. Perhaps in another five thousand they might have a case. Until then, they should remember that they were little more than children. Pompous children, at that.

When it was Swonger’s turn to drive, Swonger returned the favor and educated Lea about the underground rap scene: Action Bronson, Danny Brown, Vince Staples, Westside Gunn, Schoolboy Q.