Snow catching in his long fine hair, the tall man in black wiped blood from his fine snakeskin shoes with the remains of Salad Finger's tattered winter coat, thoroughly annoyed his meddling by proxy had failed.
Footwear buffed to his satisfaction, the tall man in black strode through black-branched trees, feet barely leaving a mark on the surface of the new fallen snow, grinning.
If you want something done right, do it yourself.
Problem: Snow day or not, Josie still had to work a late afternoon shift at Daisy's.
Maggie didn't.
Also a problem: Becca and Marlena didn't feel like driving back to town for something as trivial as a minimum wage job. Becca's parents were teleconferencing for their jobs and couldn't be interrupted.
Solution: Grunkle Mike needed a tool he'd left back in town. The highways were clear now. He'd drop her off on his way to the warehouse to pick it up.
Problem: Grunkle Mike insisted Puck ride along because he didn't trust her unsupervised. Not after that last credit card bill.
Problem: the truck Clawdeen's dad leant Grunkle Mike refused to start.
Solution: Becca's mom fired Brian and Tim when she caught them pissing off the roof before threatening to call the police after noticing some very expensive bottles missing from her liquor cabinet as they shambled out her front door in a trail of muddy boot marks. It would be gross, but Josie could catch a ride with them.
Problem: Grunkle Mike didn't like Josie asking the gruesome twosome for a ride without clearing it with him first.
Solution: Josie suggested Puck, who also needed to clock into the job (a job she'd lied about having since last June), could come with her. Puck was already in the cab of Brian and Tim's smoke belching rolling wreck seated between them with the radio turned up full blast as they began backing out.
Grunkle Mike, after flagging them down, wasn't happy about either of his nieces riding with those two assholes. Still, if Tim or Brian tried anything, Puck would take care of it.
(If she felt like it.)
"Whatever, Space Cadet." Puck glowered down at Josie from the filthy stakebed. Being treated like the hired help by the same people who couldn't get enough of crybaby Josie, while Uncle Mike watched saying nothing, stung.
Asshole!
Scowling, the cat girl reached down, heaving Josie into the mess of broken shingles, empty beer cans, and other people's power tools before Uncle Mike could so much as give her a boost - the big dumbass gave in to Josie's whining about being late to her shitty little job and dumped her on Puck, who'd been looking forward to sitting up front with Brian, Tim, and a dime bag of Funky Skunky.
Fuuuuuuuuck!
Deliberately ignoring Josie's overly-fastidious search for a comfortable place to sit among the mess with the quilted moving blanket Uncle Mike scrounged from the tool locker in the back of their borrowed truck for warmth under one arm. Scowling, Puck leaned back against the corroded metal of the cab as the RAD answer to Cheech and Chong argued, voices spilling through the cardboard and duct-tape mended back window over whatever it was they were arguing about this time; some shit about who's turn it was to drive.
Finally, Brian hollered, "Tim, I own this piece of shit. I'm fuckin' wheelman!"
Tim's mumble sounded disappointed.
Good! Puck grinned, wrapping herself tighter in Uncle Mike's old Carhart work jacket. Tim was way better at rolling joints than Brian. Brian's joints always fell apart halfway through the fun, spilling hot ashes all over your lap and ruining the buzz.
Tim and Brian's land-bound Titanic moaned, rolling backwards towards Lake Agua Clara in a loud squeal of neglect, jerking mid-roll at the last possible second when Brian found first gear where second should have been, lumbering off the Madsen property in a trail of black smoke and torn eco-friendly lawn.
They weren't to the end of the eco-friendly subdivision's pretentious winding main drag before a very cold Josie scooched up to Puck.
Puck shoved Josie away. Josie retreated, returning to her corner of the self-propelled dumpster to suffer alone.
While waiting for the automatic security gates to open at the main entrance of the gated community, the cardboard covering the missing back window of the truck flapped open.
"Mummblemummmmmum?" Tim asked with a blast of demonic halitosis.
"Yup, we're good!" Puck gagged as Brian taxied the grunting truck through the gates.
As they barreled towards the Interstate, Josie remembered in her anxiety not to be late, she'd left her new scarf, the one Draculaura had messily crocheted for her birthday, along with her new coat, on the back of Becca's couch.
Aw hell!
"Ummm, Puck?" She hollered over the engine noise, missing Fugo and his abundant body heat, "Can I borrow one of your coats?"
"Fuck off, Oreo!" Puck took a puff on a stolen ciggie, hands cupped around it against the wind.
"But you have your bomber AND Grunkle Mike's Carhartt's."
"Not my problem you're stupid." Puck paused mid-puff, flipping her daughter the bird only to screech as everything in the truck bed including the two girls, slid sideways when Brian made a sudden, skidding halt parallel to the ornate gates.
Somethin's coming. Somethin' bad.
A low-slung black car glided towards them; the surrounding Douglas firs reflected in mirrored perfection in its darkly tinted windows.
Josie!
"Duuuuuude, there's a car comin'. Move it!" Puck exclaimed, rising to her feet, one arm wrapped around one of the truck's weathered boards. She nervously blew out a stream of bluish smoke, usual bluster forgotten. Had Charlie finally found them?
It looked like something that bitch would drive.
Josie!
Snow whirling around them as the wind picked up, Tim stuck his head out of the truck's passenger side window, unlit joint sticking idiotically to his lower lip as the vehicle made its gliding approach, blocking them in.
Josie!
Brian killed the engine and stepped out of the cab, unaccustomed fear on his bearded face, "Fuuuuuuuuuuck, that bitch called Tepes on us… fuhhhhhhh… he wouldn't… do… us… personally…? Tepes NEEDs us… that ain't…
Josie!
Engine throbbing beneath the gleaming hood, the sleek vehicle briefly crept forward, pinning them in place with its high beams in the early twilight of November.
Josie! Please!
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck." Brian breathed out, shadow spilling behind him in the stranger's headlights like an oil slick, "That ain't Tepes."