Here it comes, Callan thinks. He’s one slow-muscle-fiber twitch away from touching it all off. “I hated that sick twist,” says Peaches. “Pissing in guy’s mouths? What’s that about? How many times did you fucking shoot him anyway? Like eight? You guys wanted to get the job done, didn’t you?” He laughs. Little Peaches laughs with him. So does O-Bop. Not Callan. He’s just ready, is all. “Sorry about your car,” O-Bop says. “Yeah,” Peaches says. “Next time you want to talk, use the fucking phone, all right?” Everyone except Callan laughs.
