4...

The cab made a quick left turn, the back tires skidding across asphalt and leaving black lines that smelled like death, brought the high note sound of broken glass to mind. Frank grabbed the handle above the door and slammed his other hand down on the copy of Wank that was sliding away. The bleached blonde on the cover looked up with a narcotic haze, lips painted all red and slick.
“You can stop here.”
The cab screeched to a halt five houses up the street from Frank’s place. Frank flew from the back seat hitting the front.
“Six thirty-five,” the driver said, momentarily turning the thumping music down.
Frank handed him a twenty and watched as the driver made change with nothing but ones. As the driver turned to give him the change, Frank could see some bit of black food hanging from his front tooth, his breath smelled like metal.
“Thanks,” Frank mumbled, handing the driver a couple of bucks.
He stepped out of the car and started closing the door when he realized that he’d left the Wank sitting on the back seat. He almost left it, he almost just closed the door and left it, but something made him reach back in and grab it.