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I sighed. “I’ll be perfectly okay. I can do a lot of things, in a lot of pain, and still function. I was a class A nerd in high school. Trust me when I say, I can take a beating and keep functioning. I’ve been doing it my whole entire life.”
The thing was, I wasn’t upset that she knew I was a nerd in high school. I was upset that she knew I was mistreated. The look of pity in her eyes was downright embarrassing.
“You can ride with me,” she said, her voice filled with pity. “I have to make a short haul to Tuscaloosa, then I turn around and come back with one shortly after. You’re welcome to just sit there and look pretty.”
Sit there and look pretty.
That would be the first time that I’d ever heard that before.
Sure, I’d always gotten the ‘you’re hot’ thing from multiple people.
But, being an introverted person like I was, I was never outgoing and able to push past my comfort zone to use my looks to my advantage. Which my brother found hilarious.
Speaking of brother…
I sighed as my brother called for the fourth time.
“Do you mind if I answer my brother’s call? I can’t talk to him without being on speakerphone. I’ve tried. The phone isn’t working after the scuffle last night,” I admitted, waving the phone at her that showed my fourth missed call from him.
Her eyes were laughing as she said, “You call what you got into a scuffle?”
“I call what I got into a scuffle, yes,” I admitted.
“What would you consider a fight?” she questioned.
“A fight would be me instigating it and losing.” I shrugged. “A scuffle is me getting into a fight with some dumbass who thinks he can take me on, and having his ass handed to him.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call having four broken ribs, a slice across your chest requiring six stitches and a burn across your back from a bullet a ‘scuffle’ but whatever.” She giggled. “But no, I don’t care if you call your brother back. As long as you don’t mind me listening in.”
“As long as you’re not afraid of listening to f-bombs.” I shrugged as I pressed redial.
“About fucking time, asshole,” Trouper growled.
I glanced at Banger as if to say ‘see’ and she smiled.
The muscles in her legs flexed as she let off the clutch and started rolling forward slightly, only to come to a stop seconds later.
“Listen,” I said, “I was with someone, and I broke my phone again. But I ended up calling you back anyway since your panties are in a bunch and you keep calling.”
“My panties aren’t in a bunch. I needed to talk to my brother,” he grumbled hard. “I’ve had a shit day. Shit’s going on with the new prototype plane that I’m not allowed to talk about to anyone but the fuckin’ mechanics and designers. Which pisses me off because it would be nice to be able to talk it over with the rest of the team, instead of playing this supersecret bullshit game they have me playing. Then I got home, and shit was fuckin’ crazy. Hiro’s pissed off. Running a fever because he has a cold. Beckham caught his cold. And she’s pissed off because she can’t take anything for it. Breastfeeding is a goddamn nightmare. Not to mention…”
And on he went, bitching and moaning and complaining until finally he stopped talking to draw a breath.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked my brother the moment that he gave me a word in edgewise. “You’re not normally so full of complaints.”
“It’s been one hell of a day,” he admitted, sounding exhausted.
“Why?” I wondered, looking over at Banger to see her eyes shining with amusement.
“Well, in the last hour, I accidentally forgot about the beer I put in the freezer, and it exploded all over Beckham’s breast milk,” he started again. “Then I forgot to set the timer for the pizza we were having for dinner and burned the pizza.” He hesitated. “And finally, Beckham is pissed as hell at me because we just found out that she’s pregnant again.”
Deadpan, I said, “Well you can’t pull anything out on time, can you?”
“Fuck you,” Trouper shot back. “Just fuck you.”
That’s when the sweetest sounding giggle sounded from the seat beside me.
“Easton West McKennick, are you with a girl?” Trouper sang. “Oh, my god. My baby brother is growing up. I honestly thought you were gay there for a little bit. No shade on that or anything, but shit. I love pussy. It’s hard to relate to someone that doesn’t.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and said, “I’m not gay. I’m very much a heterosexual.”
“Cool,” Trouper said, then started to groan. “Fuck, she’s so pissed at me, too. It’s not like it was my fault. I mean, hell, she had just as much to do with getting pregnant as I did. If not more. I mean, she knew the consequences. And she’s the one that jumped me in the…” He trailed off when something caught his attention on his end of the phone.
