Clete waited for Swede to thank him. It didn’t happen. “You don’t have a conflict with your chauffeur job?” “The Nightingales are flexible. Sorry, I got to boogie.” “Yeah, the sky’s about to fall. Look at me.” “Like I said—” Swede began. “No, you didn’t say anything. Your eyes are going everywhere except my face. In the meantime, you’re blowing me off. It’s called rude.” “Thanks for what you did. I got a ton of things to do. Nice seeing you.” Clete stepped in his way. “Don’t talk shit to me, Swede.” Swede looked like an animal with a limb caught in a trap. “Did you know fear smells like soiled
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