I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 10

SODA:

"Well crap," I muttered, realizing I was almost out of gas. The road signs said there was a station somewhere up ahead, so I just had to make sure I didn't miss it.

I turned the radio up pretty loud, desperate not to fall asleep at the wheel no matter how tired I was. Giving up on just listening to the radio, I began to sing along, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. The chorus to one of Katy Perry's songs came on, and I paused with singing because I didn't really know all the words to it.

"Well don't stop singing on my account."

I shrieked and yanked the steering wheel, spinning off the road into a muddy bank. My heart threatened to jump out of my throat and crawl under a rock as I leaned back in my seat to breathe before whirling around.

"What the bloody hell, Keenon!"

He lay stretched out across the backseat, arms over his face as he laughed himself silly.

"What are you doing here?" I yell, panic taking over. I had to finish a job tonight, and now I had Keenon! A very drunk Keenon, I might add.

"The party was too loouuuuud," he drawled in a whiny voice, scrunching up his face.

"That doesn't explain why you're in my car!"

"Yes it does, you idiot," he slurred, not even pointing in the right direction. "Your car was safe and quiet and comfy." He finished with a satisfied smile as if pleased with himself.

I let out a half minute long shriek and pulled my car back onto the road. "I can't do this right now. Just stay quiet back there. Pass out or something."

"I was passed out!" he yelled very loudly, yanking up in his seat. "Your singing woke me up!"

He settled back down almost immediately and added in a much chirpier voice, "You sing very well by the way."

"Great," I muttered, "of course he's a bipolar drunk person. That's just FUCKING FANTASTIC!"

I heard Keenon wince as he waved his hand blindly in the air. "Sshhhh, head," he whispered, pointing to his hair. "Hurts."

"I don't give a flying flapjack about your precious little head! You are in my car and I need you to not be!"

"Well it's not my fault! I didn't know you were planning on leaving the party like two hours early! Where are you even going?" he mumbled, suddenly interested in the buttons on his shirt.

It was quiet for a minute as I tried to work out a solution to my problem, but then he yelled out suddenly, "Oh my god! You have a gun!"

I rolled my eyes, not believing my night could go any worse. I was very wrong. Five minutes later, my car just up and quit.

"No no no!" I yelled, looking at my blinking GAS light. "I missed the station!"

I slammed my fist down into my steering wheel until my knuckles were cracked and throbbing, then I let out a groan and ran a hand through my hair.

"You make sooooo much nooooiisseeee," Keenon whined, rolling around in the backseat. "Uh oh."

"What now?" I spat, turning to look at him. His hand was pressed to his mouth.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled.

"Oh no you don't!" I hollered. "If you puke, I swear I'll make you eat it. This is all your fault anyway!"

"My fault?!" He whisper yelled, looking around through squinted eyes as if someone were watching us. "How is this my fault?"

"Because," I shrieked, "I was supposed to stop for stupid gas, but no! You just had to go and be in my car and freakin distract me!"

He sat up with a grimace and held up his arms a little limply. "How does that make it my fault? If anything, that just means you find me distracting."

"Don't you dare make this into a sexual joke," I growled.

"I'm not," he defended, "you're the one who said I was a distraction."

"That's not what I meant!"

"But that's what you said!" He pointed out.

"You would be distracted too if a guy popped up from the backseat of your car," I countered while crossing my arms.

He threw his hands up in the air. "Oh so now I'm gay?!"

I frowned at him. "What? No, I meant- ugh! I can't believe I'm actually arguing with a drunk asshole. Just shut up, Keenon."

"You're the one who started-"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed, glaring at him.

He clamped his teeth together but silently seethed at me, somehow still managing to keep me from thinking clearly. I got out of the car and looked up and down the dark and, of course, deserted road.

After pacing around my car, I came to terms with the fact that all my friends were too drunk right now to help, and that in fact, I was supposed to be their ride home. I had to swallow my pride and call the one person I really didn't want to talk to.

"Hello?"

I took a breath and said, "Yeah uh, hi Trace."

"Soda, it's midnight, what are you doing calling me?"

"I need your help."

I could sense his sudden interest in the conversation as he said, "I'm listening."

"Well, I sort of ran out of gas and need you to bring me some," I muttered, grimacing at having to get help.

"Well aren't you in a pickle," he chuckled.

Gosh how I hated him.

"I'll make you a deal," he said a little too cheerily. "I'll bring you gas if you'll agree to see dad."

"Nope, not a chance," I growl. Leave it to Trace to make a deal with a desperate person.

"Then I guess you must not need gas very much," he said. "Well, night."

"Wait!" I rub my forehead in irritation, knowing this was what he wanted but not having a choice. "I'll do it. I'll see him. I'll text you where I am."

I hung up before he could gloat and got back in my car, locking the doors.

"Why do you have to be so loud?" Keenon moaned, clutching his head.

"You know what, here," I spat, turning my radio all the way up.

He let out a miserable sound, rolling around in the back before his hand came out of nowhere and punched the radio. I stared in shock at my busted radio.

"Keenon!" I yelled, turning around and slapping him twice across both cheeks.

He clutched his head and leaned back against his seat, moaning and muttering.

"You just busted my radio!"

"And you just busted my eardrums, whoops. Now we're even."

"You are so going to pay for that," I say with a glare.

"Whatever, bill me," he said with a wave of his hand.

"Oh I will, don't worry."

Literally like two seconds later I could hear him snoring lightly from the back seat. I sighed and leaned back in my seat, not believing my terrible luck.

I pulled my phone out, and with fear etched in every fiber of me, I sent the worst phrase I could possibly say to Boss.

Target Missed.