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Summary
“Let’s make this fucker squirm,” Izzy said.
“I’ve got just the thing,” Ed replied, still watching that dimple as he hit an opening chord on the Stang. Then he grinned as half the crowd, including Posh Git, jumped half out of their skin.
“We’re ready on this one?” Ivan asked delightedly. “Fuck yeah, bruv!”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Izzy said, eyeing him in a way that was perhaps a little more distrusting than he would’ve expected out of his best friend for twenty fucking years, but ok. He shrugged, loosening his shoulders beneath his leather waistcoat, and counted off.