Saad pulled up at the side door driving a 1988 Toyota Corollo was the word Racing stickered sideways on the hood. This was not Moose’s car, or a call Moose would be caught dead inside.
Happy was exhausted from a night’s sleep under bright lights so had to squint to assure his brain he was seeing things correctly.
“What the hell is this?” Jug said.
Saad threw the keys at Happy, whose hands they slipped out of and fell to the sidewalk. As she stooped to recollect them Saad spoke.
“Dummy. This car’s for you,” Saad said.
“Oh shit it’s nice actually,” Jug said.
It dawned on Happy what his 400 dollars were used for.
“I can’t have my consigliere taking buses. Get in,” Saad said.
Happy went around the hood and got in the driver’s seat, still warm from Saad. He saw the dusty front dash and the modded radio that fed wiring back to the trunk where two speakers and a subwoofer blasted. The rattling hip-hop chattered Happy’s teeth.
“I got it off a coolie guy Moose knows, I already pumped the tank for you,” Saad said, slapping Happy on the shoulder.
Happy let himself enjoy it.
“This is sick, I’ll be cursing,” Happy said.
“Yeah for sure, but we’re a family so the boys can use it too,” Saad said.
Shera and Jug were in the back.
‘Oh shit, does that mean I can take Giselle on a date in this thing?” Jug said towards Saad.
“I dont know, ask the new owner,” Saad said.
“Do you even have your license,” Happy said.
“He’s got a fake one, and I’m sure he’ll drive slow,” Saad said.
Jug spoke after Happy didn’t have a retort.
“Seen, I got it locked,” Jug said.
“Aight we gotta take thing this to get it registered in your name but first we gotta party,” Saad said.
They boys took the car to the beer store where they bought a 2-4 and kept it in the backseat between Shera’s legs out of sight of neighbouring cars as they pulled up to lights.
Happy had learned to drive from the neighbourhood driving school and with Babbu in his car, before Babbu had betrayed them.
Jug took a wild swig of a beer at a stoplight and Happy chastised him to tame it down.
Saad nitpicked the wideness of Happy’s left turn saying that would attract police attention more than the drinking.
In the back, Happy made eye contact with Shera’s drunk eyes, anathesthized to the world and his paranoia.
Happy shifted his eyes to Jug, who was further along his journey, almost at the pinnacle. Jug was never one to pace himself.
“We’re going to do big things this year boys,” Saad said.
To that, Jug tipped his head out the window on the highway and puked. Out the side mirror, Happy could see a streak of beer and half-digested eggs glimmer in the light and christen the cars behind them.
Finding beauty in the disgusting, that must be.