Page 100 of No Romeo
“You know what...” Hendrix wrapped his arm around my shoulder and dragged me toward the entranceway. “Fuck you, you sack-faced troll!”
“You don’t even have a license.”
“Semantics, you Quasimodo-looking ball sack. Go ring your fucking church bell.” No one could come up with an insult quite like him.
Why was he smiling when Wolf refused to give him his truck and called him a human amoeba? “You stole his keys, didn’t you?” I said after we’d made it onto the dark porch.
“Come on, Lola Cola…” He marched down the steps. “Give me some credit.”
Then he walked right up to the driver’s side of Wolf’s Chevy and opened theunlockeddoor. Why the hell would Wolf leave his truck unlocked in Dayton? Then again, who the hell would have the balls to steal his truck? Outside of Hendrix…
By the time I rounded the back and got in the passenger side, Hendrix already had the steering column pulled apart. The door slammed behind me, and I smirked. “That’s low, Hendrix.”
“Human amoeba, my ass…” Oh, he was butt hurt.
A small spark ignited, and the old engine rumbled to life in record time. Headlights shined over the sagging porch, and I grinned.
My panties couldn’t handle this bad boy shit. “You’re not a human amoeba, babe. You’re a hot hustler.”
“A hot hustler who’s gonna get some road head?” He yanked it into reverse and floored it, backing out of the drive with a squeal of tires.
“Road head? You must be shooting dust by now.”
“Only one way to find out.” He went for his fly and ran a stop sign.
“If you steal something without getting caught, I’ll fuck you in the back seat of this truck.” Because I was nothing if not a basic creature when it came to him, and I liked to incentivize him into not going to jail.
“Human amoebas all over Quasimodo’s upholstery.” One of his dark eyebrows lifted like this was some kind of dare. “Motherfucking deal.” Then he floored it and clipped a mailbox.
He’d never been a great driver, but damn… “Maybe I should drive.”
“Like you’re any better. I taught you how to drive, which means I’m your Mr. Miyagi.”
This was the old Hendrix. Squirrely, high on life, and the easiest person to be around. He was unpredictable, chaotic, and fun, and I loved him for it.
“You are not my Mr. Miyagi. And I’m a girl, which instantly makes my sense of self-preservation far superior even to the average man. Your cracked-out ass sure as hell isn’t average.”
He glanced away from the road, and the truck drifted over the reflectors in the middle of the road. “You think crack is a laughing matter?”
Rolling my eyes, I yanked the steering wheel to move us back into an actual lane. “Shut up, Hendrix.”
“It’s not a laughing matter, Lola. It’s an epidemic.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Of all the words he could sayanduse in the right context… “You can say epidemic, but not semantics?”
“I cansaysemantics. I just choose not to.” He ran through a fresh red light. Horns blared as he continued to drive like a reckless asshole.
“Bullshit. You thought it was a chain-lengthfence for fifteen years.”
“Easy misunderstanding. It has chains, and it has length.”
“It also haslinks. And what about mahogany? You thought the lyrics in “Tiny Dancer” said ‘Hold me closer Tony Danza’…Iceberg lettuce was grown on anactualiceberg…”
“You thought girls got pregnant from boys peeing in them until you were eleven.”
“It’s the same hole! You didn’t even know girls had two separate holes.”
He swerved into the Bullseye parking lot. “Like that’s obvious. Never once have I watched porn and gone, shit man, look at the pee hole onthatgirl.”
