marvaso mayhem

“How do we get to Marvaso from here?” Chip asked, squinting into the sun.
“Just keep going straight for a few more miles, then turn left at Thomas Vineyard,” Alyssa said, painting her fingernails electric blue.
“Do you really think that’s professional?” Chip asked.
“No,” Alyssa replied, cracking her knuckles. “It’s about as professional as this.”
She grabbed hold of the wheel then, blue nails on black vinyl, violently spinning it to the left. Even before Chip had a chance to react, the driver’s side of the vehicle was crushed. A tree limb poked through the windshield and up through the upholstery atop the convertible.

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