Page 387 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

the sound of his voice⁠—

it’s a plea.

He can’t handle Hunter

with his heart hanging out of his chest.

So I step back once, then again,

until my ass hits the hung-open door.

I slide inside, shut it, lock it,

and turn in my seat,

my arms clutching the headrest.

Outside, Andrew’s spitting threats, curses, but his voice is too muffled for me to hear any of it. And Hunter’s not fighting back. He puffs his chest, bouncing right back like a blow-up bop bag.

Then Andrew shoves Hunter so hard

he falls back,

palms and ass hitting the empty street.

Before he can stand upright,

Andrew dives into the sedan, half his body disappearing through the driver’s side.

Hunter scrambles. “What the⁠—”

Andrew backs out of the car with his keys, then he pitches them across Waldwick, the keys arcing under the dead December morning with a jingle,

vanishing into a snowbank.

Hunter throws his arms out.

“You serious?”

Andrew walks back to the Civic.

“You fuckin’ psycho!” Hunter yells.

Andrew yanks his door open,

slides in, slams it,

and throws the Civic into drive,

steering us back onto the street.

I watch Hunter through the back window. He’s standing beside his sedan, arms raised, shouting, but both he and his threats shrink and shrink the more distance Andrew puts between us.

I face forward in my seat again, sliding my seatbelt back on with shaky hands.

Andrew keeps his eyes on the road, jaw tight, violent dreams stamped on his pretty face of all the ways he could’ve murdered him.

Meanwhile, my brain fractures into a million racing thoughts: