Page 9 of Dare You to Run
She begins to laugh and we chuckle together. “Lawd, I told my momma she cursed me with that name. But she just had to be ‘original’.”
“Hey. My name is Dagen Rayne McCallan. Talk about original. You ever meet another Dagen?”
She scrunches her face and looks up as if she’s thinking real hard. “Can’t say I have. But I tell you what, with that twang I hear wantin’ to make an appearance, the Texas license plate, and the name, I’d say we’re cornbread sisters.”
I snort and ask, “What’s a cornbread sister?”
“You know. We come from the same batch. We’re alike despite being a little different. Still amazing, but with our own little twist. Southern cornbread.”
“I’ve never heard it, but I like it.”
“Welp. It looks like you ain’t drivin’ that shiny car any time soon, so I called on my friend to get ya outta there. He should be here soon.”
I sigh in relief. “Oh thank you. I just wasn’t paying attention and hit a patch of gravel and spun out.”
“Well hell. That don’t sound like any fun. Especially with that fancy car of yours.”
I close one eye and scrunch up my face. “Yeah, it’s my Mom’s.”
“Oooowee, someone’s getting their birth certificate canceled when they get home.” I laugh yet again, because this girl’s euphemisms are better than anything I’ve ever heard. “Come sit in ole blue. It’s hotter’n a goat's butt in a pepper patch.”
She waves me over and opens the door for me to slide in. The door shuts behind me and that little thing makes her way to the driver’s side. On the radio playsCowboy Break My Heart, a song I’ve had the misfortune of knowing something about.
“So what’re you doin’ in Cattywump Bay, Mississippi?” Kinsley asks when she settles into the driver’s seat.
“I don’t think you want to know. It’s a whole story spanning twenty-one years.”
She rubs her hands together and her eyes light up. “Hell, girlie. That sounds like my kinda story. Spill the beans. All my friends are guys and I never get to hear good girl gossip.”
I shrug and say, “Okay. You asked for it,” then proceed to give the abbreviated version of my fucked up life.
“Damn girl. That story’s like a soap opera. All it’s missin’ is someone coming back from the dead and a long lost sibling.” She shakes her head in disbelief.
“I told you it was a whole story. Ever met anyone with a crazier life?” I ask.
She squints her eyes and twists up her lips in deep thought. “I mean, I guess I have a pretty whacked out story. My mama did marry her daddy’s best friend who was twenty years older than her.”
“Oo. I have an aunt –who’s more like a sister really because she’s only six years older than me– and she’s married to my uncle who happens to be my other uncle’s best friend. And he’s twelve years older than her.”
Kinsley blinks and says, “I’m sorry. What’d you say? That was all sorts of confusing.”
I chuckle and explain. “So my Uncle Bishop is my Mom and Dad’s best friend from high school. He’s not my real uncle but you know how southerners are. Well Uncle Bishop’s best friend is Phoenix whom he met in college when they played baseball together. Uncle Phoenix was an MLB pitcher and he married myAunt Viv who is Mom’s best friend from when they were little girls.” I take a deep breath then go on. “So Uncle Phoenix has a niece, Anais, who just happened to move to Texas for school and fell in love with Uncle Bishop. Their relationship almost tore everyone apart, but luckily it all worked out and now we have one big family with more aunts and uncles and plenty of little cousins.”
“Soap opera,” she says, shaking her head. “But I’m digging all the aunts and uncles that ain’t really aunts and uncles. I only have one aunt and uncle and two cousins who are much older than me. We don’t really see them, so it’s just me, mama and daddy.”
I open my mouth to continue comparing our crazy lives, but a loud engine interrupts our little girl’s chat.
“Oh look. Henny’s here.”
“Who’s here?” I ask.
“Henny. His name is actually Hendrix, but all his friends call him Henny. Now if he comes off a bit grumpy, don’t let that scare ya. It’s all an act. He’s really got a heart of gold. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
A large tow truck pulls up beside Kinsley. It’s black and the wordsDARE Towingin neon blue are right along the side of it. The windows are tinted and I can’t see inside, but I assume he’s some backwoods feller with a few teeth missing and a beer belly.
I climb out of the truck and turn around to greet Hendrix and immediately have my mind blown. Ever hear that saying, assumption is the mother of all mistakes? Well mistaken I most certainly am.
Hendrix is the farthest thing from backwoods as one can get. Not to mention he has all of his teeth and I have no doubt that underneath that white t-shirt lies a perfectly chiseled body.
