“He’s getting better,” Ranger said, jumping in behind the wheel.
Clash was in the passenger seat while I sat in the back, my hand finding Snyder’s beside me. I couldn’t lay my head on his shoulder like I wanted to—too many prying eyes that would turn us in.
He gave my hand a small squeeze, and then just held it. Content prickles ran up my arms, my whole body thrumming with desire.
“So, what’s the deal, Shasta? Did you fuck Wasp?”
“What do you mean?”
Clash gave me a pointed look, and I felt Snyder straighten beside me.
“Did you fuck Wasp?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Snyder knew I had been with Wasp, but what would the others do if they found out?
“Clash, who she fucks isn’t your business,” Snyder argued.
“My dick says otherwise. Look, I know the whole point of this thing was to turn the others against Sabbath, but he’s fucking losing his mind, man. We all know the last three are fucking loyal to a fault. If she tries to lure them in, they’ll turn her in.”
My stomach coiled.
“Don’t be so sure,” Snyder argued. “Are they loyal to Sabbath, sure, but everyone can see that Sabbath is losing his mind. No man wants to follow a crazy person into battle. It’d be like following you onto the frontlines of a battlefield, Clash. Crazy... unhinged... and a fewFruit Loopsshy of aCracker Jackbox.”
Ranger and I both chuckled, while Clash just folded his arms in disagreement.
“Hey now, I hateCracker JacksandFruit Loopsare for pussies. I'm aCaptain Crunchkind of guy, but not that weird yellow kind... I’m a fan of the peanut buttery one with the little balls that cut into the roof of your mouth when you eat them. That’s the kind of cereal a true man eats... it puts some definite hair on your chest.” He pounded his chest with his fist, acting like he was much bigger and more macho than he normally was. We all knew better. Sure, Clash was tough, but he was a lot of talk. Fuck, who am I kidding? The man is all fucking talk. He never fucking stops.
“Like you’d know,” Snyder quipped. “You can’t count chest pubes as real chest hair.”
Clash looked down at his shirt and glared at Snyder.
“They are not chest pubes! They’re just follically challenged.”
Both men shook their heads, grinning from ear-to-ear. Leave it to Clash to argue about cereal and chest hair, and not the fact that he wouldn’t be fit to lead anything.
“Well, anyway, before this asshole got off topic with his normal breakfast routine and curly pubic chest hair, he did have somewhat of a point. Sabbath is spiraling, and I don’t think we can wait any longer to act. Once he finds out about Shasta messing around with all of us, it’s over. The man’s literally going to flip his shit and I’d bet my left nut that a whole club massacre is on the horizon.”
“Ugh, why do you have to bet your left nut? I’ve seen that thing up close and personal, and it’s substantially smaller than your right. If you’re going to bet nuts, at least bet the one that looks like it could feed a few squirrels at a Thanksgiving picnic.”
“Clash, do you ever think about what you say before you say it?” Ranger questioned, pulling into the parking lot of the hospital.
“Nope, this shit just runs freely in my head, my friend. Sometimes I think I’ve got a revolving wheel of fucked up mutant hamsters running around up there.”
“It would explain so much,” Snyder joked. “You would have fluffy little rodents running around in your brain.”
“They’re not fluffy, asshole. They’re mutants. The kind of hamsters that have been dropped into toxic waste and given super powers and shit.”
Ranger snickered. “You must’ve got the defective ones then. Because those little balls of fluff definitely have no superpowers other than enhancing your stupidity.”
Clash scoffed. “And here I was about to compliment your equally hung ballsack, Ranger. But now I’m not so sure I want to, even if there’s no lopsided gonads for you like this guy over here.” He smirked as he pointed over his shoulder at Snyder.
“The fact that you were even staring at our balls makes me question your sanity... and sexuality, Clash,” Snyder piped in, shifting uncomfortably.
“I’m not gay, asshole. I just happened to notice your uneven, itty-bitty ballsack while in the moment. Sue me.”
“Can we save these weird ass arguments for later? It’s been a few weeks since I last saw Sandman, and I’d like to enjoy his company without you two arguing like a couple of middle schoolers.”
Both men shot me a look and shrugged. “Sure, Shasta. No more arguing,” Snyder agreed, squeezing my hand as Clash opened the door for me. At least Clash could be somewhat of a gentleman when he wanted to.