Drunk in Recovery (The Misadventures of a Drunk in Paradise Book 7) by Zane Mitchell

Author:Zane Mitchell [Mitchell, Zane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Island Press
Published: 2022-01-12T23:00:00+00:00

30

“Fuck.” I palmed the seat in front of me. “It’s him. Hit the gas, Gare.”

Gary pressed his lips together. “This guy doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

“Yeah, man!” I cheered.

“Show him what you got, buddy.” Denver reached between the seats to clap Gary on the shoulder.

At the next intersection, Gary gunned it. Plowing through a stop sign, he hooked a sharp left at the last minute, cutting off an oncoming black SUV.

Tires screeched.

Horns blared.

The SUV spun out, avoiding T-boning us by mere inches.

Le Pew was forced to jerk the wheel in the opposite direction to avoid the SUV. “Attaboy, Gare!” Reaching around his seat back, I squeezed his shoulders.

“Attaboy, Gare?!” Eddie yowled back at me, his voice shaky and an octave higher than usual. “He nearly turned me into a pancake!”

“You don’t know Pepe, Ed,” said Al. “We’re better off taking our chances with Gary’s driving.”

A glance over my shoulder told me that Le Pew was back and coming in hot. “He’s gaining on us again. You’re gonna have to do something bigger than just running a stop sign.”

“Bigger than running a stop sign?” Eddie’s skinny arms sliced the air. “Uh-uh. I’ve had enough. Pull over. I’m getting out.”

“Pull over? Ed! Are you fucking insane?!” I bawled. “Did you not see that man? You are a gnat to him. One little slap and Eddie’s dead.”

“Gary just about killed me!”

“But did you die?”

“No, but—”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” I threw up my hands.

“I get carsick, Drunk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Eddie. Roll down the window, then, because we sure as hell aren’t stopping.” I pointed up ahead. “Take a left up here, Gare. There’s an alley behind Lala Lita’s. Maybe we can lose him there.”

Gary pulled into the alley.

Keeping one eye glued to the back window, I gestured. “Keep going, keep going.”

Le Pew turned in behind us.

“Shit.”

“I’ll lose him in traffic. Hang on, fellas.”

Ahead of us, traffic was humming along at a steady clip on the main road. Gary laid rubber, squealing out of the alley and cutting off a dreadlocked guy driving a white Land Rover.

He shook his fist out the window. “Ya asshole!”

Gary waved back. “Ope, sorry, buddy!”

Le Pew squeezed into traffic two cars behind the Land Rover. “He’s still back there.”

“Hang on, fellas, I got this.” Gary cranked the wheel sharply, whipping a U-turn right in the middle of the island’s midday traffic. An array of vehicles protested with honks and shouting.

Our heads rocked wildly.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Eddie rolled down his window.

I wasn’t feeling so hot myself, but a queasy stomach was the least of my concerns at the moment.

Eyes glued to his rearview mirror, Gary took the first right off the main drag, sped down the block, and turned down a residential street. He made another turn and another, zigzagging several times before turning into an apartment complex. He cut across their parking lot and exited on the next street over.

“He still back there?” asked Ralph.

“I haven’t seen him since the Land Rover,” I said. “I think we shook him.

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