Chapter 2
Shitbox rule of thumb: If it’s leaking oil, you still have oil. Keep driving, besties!
—Hollis to Keda
HOLLIS
“Are you ready, Keda?” I sang as I got out of my car and twirled around the forecourt of her apartment complex.
Keda, my very best friend in the world, laughed as she watched me twirl. “I’m ready. Are you sure you want to wait to eat?”
Igestured to my car. “I stopped and got us a couple of candy bars to hold us over.”
Snickering, she headed to the door of my car, not bothering to comment on the new scratch on the front quarter panel.
Shedid say something about the parking ticket that was sitting in the middle console, though.
“Another one?” She laughed, patting it lightly as she reached for her seatbelt.
Igroaned. “A guy side swiped me today and instead of the dude who hit me getting a ticket, they gave one to me because I wasn’t ‘legally’ parked.”
Shepicked up the ticket and read it. “Q. Carter. Badge number 2992984. We should report him.”
Isnorted. “Technically, I know he is a male, but I was too busy to notice much else,’” I said. “I was at work.”
“They didn’t try to come find you?” she asked.
“I was in the middle of running some X-rays on a couple of kids. Someone came to get me, but I didn’t go down. The ticket was on my car when I got out earlier,” I admitted.
“That sucks.” She sighed. “You have the worst luck with this car.”
“That’s why I still have this car,” I pointed out.
I’dbeen working at DallasMemorial as a radiation technician for two years now. Yet, I still had the same shitbox I’d had since high school because it was easier to have something you didn’t give a shit about in the streets of downtown Dallas than a nicer vehicle that might catch the eye of the thieves who walked the streets.
“You have this car because you’re a cheap bitch,” Keda disagreed. “ButI’ll forgive you for lying to me.”
Iflashed her a grin as I put it in reverse and started to back out.
Iran over the curb, causing her to jolt sideways.
Keda, used to my driving, didn’t comment.
So, I sucked at driving.
Thatwas a fault.
ButI got myself from point A to point B fairly easily.
Couldit be smoother? Sure. CouldI drive on 635 or I-30 a bit more cautiously? Obviously.
Thatdidn’t change the fact that I didn’t and wouldn’t.
Youhad to drive defensively in Dallas, or you would get your head ripped off. So, I’d adapted.
“Can you unwrap my Nutrageous for me?” I asked as I pulled onto the feeder road that would lead me to the bane of my existence—I-35.
Itnever failed. Every time I got on that stupid road, the damn thing was backed up.
Todaywas no different.
Themoment I merged on, I groaned.
Theonly things I could see for miles in the distance were brake lights.
“Why do you hate this road so much?” she asked as she unwrapped my Nutrageous halfway and handed it to me.
Itook a big bite, very aware of the chocolate that had just fallen into my lap from the candy bar, and hit my brakes hard when a man in a white SUV swooped into my lane.
Flippinghim off, I moved to the fast lane and kept my finger high as I kept moving past him.
That’swhen I noticed the DPD sticker on the side door.
Whoops.
“You’re nuts.” Keda sighed. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t pull you over.”
“He won’t,” I said. “Freedom of speech and all that jazz.”
“Oh, whatever.” She laughed as I continued to maneuver through traffic. “Are you excited?”
Iall but bounced in my seat as I took the exit for the stadium. “I’m ecstatic.”
Fifteenminutes later, we were showing our tickets at the door.
Whenwe got inside, a helpful woman showed us to our seats—VIP tickets were the freakin’ best!—and we waited.
Thearena slowly filled up all around us, people from all walks of life, some dressed up, some not so dressed up, finding their seats and talking loudly.
Weweren’t the only ones excited.
Everyonewas.
Thecomedian, TaiteDeRosa, was one of the biggest names in the business right now. He was up there with TaylorSwift and Eminem in rankings lately on Spotify—and I would know since Keda made it her mission in life to convince me he was funny by sending me TikToks of him every day.
“Do you want to get something…” I was about to ask if she wanted a drink or something when the lights started to dim.
“Absolutely not,” she whispered.
Grinningat her excitement, I leaned back in my chair and clenched my hands in front of me.
“Hello, Dallas!” Taite called out. “How is everyone tonight?”
Everyonecheered, including Keda and I.
Theshow started, and soon we were laughing so hard our bellies hurt.
“This show is the absolute best,” I whispered to my girl twenty-five minutes later.
Together, we’d all but followed our favorite comedian online, learned when he would be touring in our area, and had stalked his ticket sales to snag a couple.
Andtoday was the day.
Wewere here, and enjoying life, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Keda was smiling.
Kedalooked at me with wide eyes. “Yeah, but I have to pee so bad, and I don’t want to miss any of it!”
Kedalooked torn.
Onone hand, she had issues with her bladder. Issues that meant that she had almost zero control of anything when it came to her needing to use the restroom.
She’dbeen in a car wreck about eighteen months ago that had literally changed her entire life.
One, she’d broken seven bones in her body. Her femur, tibia, fibula, hip, and several bones in her foot, all on her right side from where she was slammed into by a semi-truck.
Forthe last year and a half, we’d done nothing but help her heal.
Theonly problem was, she’d gained a lot of weight, struggled every day with her mental health, and ultimately struggled through life.
Shehad bladder incontinence issues and had to wear a diaper while out just in case. She sometimes struggled with forming the right words. And even worse, she had severe issues with her breathing at times.
“Just go,” I urged. “I’ll go with you.”
Shewas already shaking her head. “Absolutely not. You watch. I’ll be back.”
Shesighed and stood up, accidentally knocking her chair over.
Theracket was rather loud, but as she bent over and picked it up, her dress rode up just a tad bit too high, revealing the bottom of her padded adult diaper.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” Keda whispered frantically.
“Is that fat bitch wearing a diaper?”
Ifroze, surprised to hear those words come out so loudly, from all around me.
Islowly looked toward the stage to see the comedian who’d gotten us through some of our darkest times pointing and laughing at Keda.
Keda, who now had tears streaming down her face, looked on in horror.
Istood up, my hands fisted, and snarled, “You can go fuck yourself, TaiteDeRosa!”
“Ohh, big scary.” Taite waived his hands in front of him like he was facing an angry child and not a seething mad adult. “You’re hot, though. Why don’t you come up here?”
Iscoffed and snatched up my purse. “You fucking wish, fuck face. Come on, Keda. Let’s get out of here.”
Therewere people laughing all around us, but I didn’t pay any of them any attention.
Instead, I walked with Keda to the bathroom where she hurriedly did her business.
Iwaited outside the stalls, hating the look of defeat on her face as she came out.
“You want to go eat?” I asked, hoping she’d say yes, but knowing she’d say no.
Notafter what that asshole had done.
“Um, no,” she said softly. “I just want to go home.”
Icursed TaiteDeRosa all the way back to Keda’s apartment.
Thedrive to her place was done in relative peace.
Wehit no traffic, and before long, I was pulling up to her apartment’s front door. When we stopped, I had my hand on the door handle intending to get out with her, but she put her hand out. “I love you, Hollis. I really do. ButI need a little bit of space right now.”
Ihated that she was shutting me out.
Ihated even more that I would give her what she wanted.
Kedaand I had about the same income level, but her family was much more well off than mine had been, allowing her to have a little extra padding when it came to her living accommodations.
Me, on the other hand? I lived in a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Dallas, and I knew that there were about four people in my building who sold drugs.
Butthose were things that happened when you were ninety thousand dollars in debt from student loans, and your parents didn’t help you pay for anything, unlike your siblings.
Theday I was able to afford this piece of shit Corolla had been a beautiful day for me. I could get to class on time without having to worry about the bus or relying on a friend to pick me up if that bus was late. I could get to my job.
Icould get anywhere I needed to go.
Butthe friend I most relied on was sitting in the car next to me.
Istill remembered the night I’d gotten the call that she’d been in that accident.
I’dbeen at the ER doing a shift for my rad tech program. I’d gotten the call from Keda’s mom just as she’d been rolled into the ER. She’d been broken. Utterly and unendingly broken.
She’dhad so much damage to her small body, and it was an utter miracle that she was where she was today.
“Keda,” I said softly, “look at me.”