Lucinda snickers behind me, but Dr. Johnny just glares. “And you got a mouth on you. Listen, girlie, I know why Waylon promised you this gig. He’s got the whole town on babysitting duty with you. But I don't need any assistance. Go tell your daddy I'm a one-man show. The only pussy I want in my van had better be here for maid service—speaking of which, Lucinda, you and Crazytown make up yet?”

He flips over on his side to snag a plain box with “Sildenafil—50mg” clearly written across the front. He waves the generic form of Viagra at her. “I got those dick hardeners he asked for right here. If they’re for you, you can just hand these off to him. Save him a trip out here.”

Lucinda blanches, all traces of humor disappearing from her eyes. “No, he did not order those pills for me.”

“Oh,” Dr. Johnny says with no remorse in his voice whatsoever. “In that case, I guess I’ll shoot him a text message and tell him to come pick it up. After you two get out of my trailer.”

He makes a shooing motion, but righteous fury keeps me rooted to the spot.

“First of all, HIPAA laws,” I tell him, rolling my neck like the angry Black woman I was always trying not to be back in Delaware. “You shouldn't be talking to Lucinda or anybody else about somebody’s private medical information without their consent.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, see, this is why I don't want you here. Big city nurse. Big city opinions. No, thank you.”

“You can't just say, no, thank you.” I screw up my face and splay both hands at the woman who escorted me here. “Lucinda's pregnant. She needs prenatal care, which you aren’t giving her!”

“You know what, bitch, it is too early for this,” he yells at me. “I got a fucking hangover. If you have a problem with me, take it up with Viking. But I don’t want you coming anywhere near my trailer again. Now skedaddle. Get on now, skedaddle!”

He shoos his hands at me like I'm a rat who somehow found its way into the office he’s obviously also using as a home.

And Lucinda says, “C’mon, Amira. You don’t want to piss off a Reaper. Let the men deal with it themselves.”

Her advice infuriates me that much more. But nothing I have seen over the last forty-eight hours would lead me to think it wasn’t sound. Plus, she’s too pregnant to have to deal with this kind of stress.

I follow her out of the trailer but make sure to slam the door extra hard behind me. I’m pretty sure I hear him call me a bitch again before I make my way down the metal stairs.