“Yeah, but you didn’t miss him,” I said. “Chris Chambers never misses, am I right?” “Not even when the ladies leave the seat down,” he said. He winked at me, formed an O with his thumb and forefinger, and spat a neat white bullet through it. “Eat me raw, Chambers,” I said. “Through a Flavor Straw,” he said, and we grinned at each other.
