Page 89 of The Darkness Within

“I volunteered you,” Tex admits, disappearing up the stairs with two of the three loves of my life.

“This is bullshit,” I complain to Brewer, who just laughs.

“No, this is home.” He drops a kiss on my cheek and heads downstairs to unpack.

“Fuck, it’s hot out, too hot to be sitting around doing nothing.” I tip the can of ice cold Fanta to my lips and take a long swig. It burns icy cold and fizzy down my dry throat.

“You’re supposed to be helping,” Nacho grumbles, sounding irritated. Must be the heat.

“I am helping. I’m providing moral support.”

“How many people do you think can fit in that death trap at once?” Tex adds, backing me up. He holds up his Fanta and I toast him, laughing with him.

Nacho fires a spatula out the door of the truck, narrowly missing me.

“Hey, watch it,” I warn, dodging to the left. “Throwing random objects at me triggers me.”

“It does not,” Nacho yells, his voice echoing inside the truck.

“How would you know?”

“It wasn’t on the list,” Tex informs me.

“What list?”

“The list of things that trigger you. We all got a copy before you moved in.”

What the fuck?

“We get one for every newbie that moves in. So we don’t set them off.”

These guys knew about me from the get-go and they still embraced me with open arms? Damn, I knew they were good guys, but… Damn. Feeling guilty for being lazy, I exhale with a tired sigh and offer, “Do you need a hand?”

“I wouldn’t want you to break a sweat, Ken,” Nacho calls out.

“Who’s Ken?”

“I’m Barbie, and you’re Ken,” Tex explains.

“Since when?” How can he look so pleased to be called Barbie?

“Well, I’m wearing a pink crop top, and…you know,” he waves in my general direction.

“No, I don’t know.” I’m starting to feel like there’s a movie playing in his head that no one else can see.

“Your face, you look like Malibu Ken.”

I just stare, wordless and slightly open-mouthed. “I think the sun baked your brain,” I snort.

“I think you’re both fucking half-baked,” Nacho insists, peeking his head out of the serving window. “The equipment looks like it’s in good shape, it just needs to be deep-cleaned. The truck has brand new tires, and the refrigeration unit was replaced about six months ago, so everything looks pretty good.”

“We’re in business,” I shout, slapping my leg.

“He’s the cook, you’re the investor, so what am I?” Tex asks.

Nacho laughs. “You really want me to answer that, Barbie?”

“Fuck all y’all,” he pouts, finishing off his Fanta. He burps, long and loud, a sound completely at odds with a man wearing a pink crop top and red plaid shorts.

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