Day 15: Jackson Pollock

They crowded up to a rattling, graffiti-riddled bus with no other passengers and an unshaven driver, who to James smelled of despondence and whisky. The driver lolled out of his chinfolds to blink out the open door at the six of them. If he noticed the gun between James’ shoulders or the threatening arm around Lizzy’s, he didn’t comment.

Day 14: Childhood Enemies

“Let’s leave my father’s alcoholism out of this, operative,” the big guy retorted, stiff as a board. He crossed his arms so the muscles in his shoulders all popped out like mutated grapes. “I’m in charge of this squad, in case you forgot. So stuff it, Tess.”