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Jumping from the car might be less painful.
“She’s joking,” I shout.
“She’s sensitive. Oh, look,” She points, “We’re almost there. Drive.”
To my amazement, he does. Tires screech as he guns it all the way up to my new apartment.
Get me the hell out of here! I move at a pace never thought possible of my body as I exit and grab my luggage in one fell swoop. Somehow, I land on my feet thanks to the online yoga classes I take from time to time.
"Thanks for not being an axe murderer," Harper chastises the driver as she slams the door shut. Then she mouths to me, “Run like a bitch that sees a sale. You know he has bodies buried somewhere.”
“Maybe you should have waited to taunt him until after he drove away. Crabs! Really!”
She waves a hand, “It was funny, wasn’t it? One of my best. He’ll never look at a woman the same again. I just saved our species.”
“He could have killed us in the back seat.” I try to act serious.
“But then he’d have the crabs to clean out, too.”
“I don’t have crabs!”
She doubles over. “More like cobwebs. When’s the last time you got laid.”
I ignore that, “Harper, he seriously could have attacked us.” I jerk my luggage up over the curb.
“I know how to defend myself.” Still clutching her stomach. Her flawless face is now red, and her eyes running with tears.
A loud screech rips through the air as our driver pulls out of the complex. She continues, “I’d pick you up since you're pint-sized and all, toss you on him, and then high tail it as far away as possible.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’d run for help, of course.” She adds with a grin.
Harper would do the opposite; I've seen it before. She's the big sister I never had and the older brother I used to have. That's why I kept details about what happened to me years ago to myself. She would throw herself in the line of fire to protect me.
It's what I thought Henry would have done, also.
Harper and Henry think with their fists first, well, in Harper's case, a keyboard. Peter was the rational one. He was insanely protective, but he thought before he acted. That was why I called him that night.
Don’t go there, Poppy. This is a new chapter.
“I’m five foot five. Hardly pint-sized.” I snap. My throat feels dry from the memory.
She throws her arm over my shoulder, “You’re pocket-sized, Poppy. Hey, that kind of rhymes, Pocket Poppy. Why haven't I ever used that before.” She slaps her hand to her forehead and giggles.
I grab her luggage, hauling it over the curb and onto the sidewalk next to mine. “Don't you dare start.” I deadpan.
The Texas sun already feels hot against my skin, but it's not the heat getting to me so suddenly. It's the dryness. When I inhale, it feels like I opened an oven door and got a face full of parched, scolding air. This is going to be an adjustment.
“Shit on a stick, this place is fancy," Harper tips her head back and looks up at the complex. “But you are a rich bitch now.” She jokes.
Harper is right; I'm a two-sided coin. One side is incredibly lucky. I've got a trust fund, and if I never wanted to work again, I wouldn't have to. The other side has been riddled with bad luck, ending in death.
"Why Texas again?" She asks as her eyes quickly glance at the sun.
"You remember Helena from HR, right?" Helena knew my parents. She cooked meals for my brothers and me for two months straight after they passed.
Harper nods, but I can tell she doesn't remember.
