Hey, Trixie Garcia-Girl.
“Just Garcia.”
I couldn’t call you Garcia. That’s what I call your dad. It would be weird.
“No, my last name is just Garcia. First of all, my mom’s name wasn’t actually ‘Mountain Girl,’ and second of all, you’re an idiot.”
Gotcha. Your hair looks cool.
“Thank you.”
And edible.
“If you’re gonna be weird, I’ll sic Parish’s Parish on you.”
Seriously, what’s going on with those two?
“I don’t know and I’m not asking.”
You think she’s trying to get into the will? Get a piece of the vast Parish fortune?
“Fortune? The man’s an ex-roadie. Like, 80% of his holdings are in stories. He’s selling wrenches on Ebay.”
Sell the face right off your head.
“You got it.”
Trix?
“Trixie.”
One last question.
“Make it quick.”
Sure. You think you should have finished the cocaine on the table before you took the picture?.
…
“Dammit.”
Is that a “yes?”
best part of the ebay description of the (minimum $150) wrench: “It wasn’t long before he was Garcia’s trusted gear handler….”