"Audrey, will you please stop smoking inside the car? This is becoming a lethal habit, you know."

You complain and glance at her. Audrey Belrose scoffs loudly, and starts laughing as if you had just made a funny joke to her. She keeps her hands on the wheel, revs the car higher, as you two speed up the freeway stretch from the boardwalks, back to Glenberry.

"Suck it up, snapperhead," she giggles. "Ya know, it's a real shame that it's the secondary smoke that stinks so bad, 'cuz the stuff I'm suckin' up is fucking great, man."

You start cranking the ancient passenger window handle. The draft was almost a godsend. Even though you smoked yourself, Audrey Belrose was another story. You figure, one of these days this girl would just croak. And something tells you Audrey knows that as well, and embraces it ironically.

She makes a rather aggressive turn that hugs the hill as she drives up the winding road.

You glare at her exasperatedly. "Baby, I hope you've signed some donor cards, except for your lungs. Last fuckin' thing they'll ever wanna take."

Audrey bursts into laughter at your quip. "Come on, relax. I won't crash the car. I'm a pretty good driver myself. You don't think?"

You shrug, and laugh as well. Rolling Stones was turned up on the stereo, that it was hard to talk between you two. All you can mostly hear was Keith Richards singing passionately, "She's my little rock and roll!" And this sort of tune only seems to make Audrey floor the gas recklessly, as you both cruise through the dusk.

"You have somewhat a nice taste in music at least," you say.

Audrey harrumphs at your remark. She flicks her burnt-out cig out of the window, and sits back in her seat.

"Dude, this whole health awareness shit is getting overblown. Once, I was in a cab to Fresno, and the driver said to me, 'please don't smoke. Christ is our unseen guest.' Fuck that, you figure if Jesus can get through getting nailed to a cross, a Marlboro Light's not going to affect him that much."

"You think?"

"Hey, hey. Lighten up baby," she draws out the end sassily, smirking at you.

You cross your arms, but find that you can't help but just smile and chuckle as well. Something about her near-bottomless energy is infectious, and you find yourself easing up already.

"I don't know, Audrey. You're a real handful, and I can't keep up."

"What can I say? Some girls play hard to get. I play hard to want."

.

.

.