Jazz had even seen a toilet in front of one house, sitting in the middle of the lawn and filled with blooming flowers as if it were some kind of urn. “Nice digs your sister has,” Gray said, peering through the windshield as they crept along the street, searching for the right house number. “Is there a college around here? These look like frat houses. See that dude sitting on the hood of his car over there? He has a keg next to the tire.” “Guys in frats aren’t the only ones who drink from kegs.” “I know that. I’m just saying. It has a young vibe.” “Not the only kind of vibe it has,” he muttered. “What’s the number again?” She read it to him while trying not to smear the ink on the page from her damp fingers. The nerves were back, and this time they’d brought their friends goose bumps and slight nausea. She seriously hoped the morning sickness had not decided to make another reappearance now.
