Page 47 of No Cap

I frowned at him.

He waited patiently, and I eventually got in, wondering if it was normal to be elated by a man opening my car door.

Clicking my seatbelt into place, I gave him the address. Then asked if he needed directions.

He shook his head. “I know everything there is to know about Dallas.”

I acknowledged his understanding of Dallas and closed my door. Seconds later I was backing out, not asking for any more details. He stopped me, though, with one hand on the hood of my car, and the other on the door.

I reluctantly rolled down the window.

“Okay, explain to me one more time why y’all do this in the middle of the year?” Quincy asked.

It was weird, I knew.

“Okay, so let me try to explain it in a way that doesn’t make it sound so weird,” I giggled. “Every last one of us was born in December. My birthday is on the twentieth. Tay’s is on the nineteenth. And Humfrid’s is on the twenty-sixth.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I got that part.”

“Well, my parents didn’t have much when we were growing up. My dad only worked minimum wage jobs, and there really wasn’t much extra to go around. You know?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That happens, yes.”

“Well, one day Humfrid asked if we could start celebrating our birthdays in the summer. Because that way she might get more presents, but she explained it to our parents as a way of saving them some money.” I explained. “And Mom and Dad ran with the idea, because truthfully, it is hard to buy both Christmas and birthday gifts all in the same month. So a few years ago, we all started to celebrate our birthdays on the same day—June twelfth. So now we all come out, Mom cooks, and we exchange our birthday gifts with each other.”

“Y’all couldn’t do them on different days?” Quincy wondered.

“I asked that once, but Mom doesn’t like cooking that much, so this way she only has to cook once,” I admitted.

He nodded. “Understandable, I guess.”

“Anyway, so that’s what we’re doing today. Mom cooks our favorite meals, we all open presents and exchange gifts, and we go home,” I said.

Except, that was kind of a fib.

Sometimes I never got my favorite meal.

Okay, that was a lie. I never got my favorite meal, because my favorite meal was lasagna, and Dad hated lasagna. So more often than not—okay, never—I didn’t get anything I actually liked on this particular day.

“Okay, honey,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you there. Wait until you see my truck pull out, though. In case I get lost.”

That was bullshit. I believed him when he said he knew Dallas well.

He just wanted to see me.

But I’d wait. “Okay.”

The drive was comical.

He arrived at my parents’ place before I did, going fast enough that he could be in front, but slow enough that I was still in his rearview mirror.

We pulled up outside my parents’ house, the nice ass house they didn’t have when I was growing up, and parked.

I all but dove out of the car, anxious to get hell on earth started.

Because the faster I started, the faster it would end.

I already had the car’s back door opened when I felt him move into the space behind me.

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