Page 42 of No Cap

Kinny pulled the car over, then squinted to read the sign on the door in the alley.

“Cajun,” he said. “That sounds okay.”

The sign read ‘Caj Tex’ and I had a feeling it was going to be pretty good.

But I soon realized that the man who cooked for Caj Tex had a really, really heavy hand. Everything was hot, even the fuckin’ ranch on my salad.

But it was good.

Very fuckin’ good.

“So tell me,” Kinny said before gulping down a swallow of water. “What did you do to get in trouble?”

He was talking to Hollis, but she was ignoring him.

It had me grinning like a loon.

“I guess the real question is, which time,” I joked, taking my own gulp of water.

Hollis shot me a glare.

“It was only one time that I actually did something kind of wrong,” Hollis snapped. “I illegally parked my car, and it was somewhat in the road, and someone hit it. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“And what’s this about a restraining order?” Kinny asked. “You never mentioned that.”

“That’s because I didn’t even know about it until I got a notice in the mail that I had one.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even know I had the potential to have one. Literally, one second I’m Gucci, and the next, I’m looking at these papers I’m fairly positive should’ve been served to me.”

“They should have,” I grumbled. “That’s a fuck up on the court’s fault. I’m wondering if they shoved it in your mailbox instead of handing it to you.”

“Hey, peeps.” The bubbly waitress came up to us. “Do y’all need anything?”

Both Kinny and I said, “Water!” at the same time.

The waitress laughed. “It’s always the men who have the trouble here.”

Hollis was drinking her fair share, too. But she’d gotten water and a lemonade, so it looked like she wasn’t drinking anywhere near as much as us.

She probably knew she needed both, and that was why she got them.

The waitress left to get our drinks, and I went back to my blackened catfish, Cajun rice pilaf, and salad.

Though I was eating the salad a hell of a lot slower than I usually would be due to the intensity of the dressing.

It was good, but my eyes and nose had been watering since I’d taken my first bite.

“Want to share some beignets?” Kinny asked me.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course. Unless they’re spicy, too. Then no.”

Hollis snorted. “Weenie.”

“I’m not a weenie,” I disagreed. “I’m human. And all of my senses work. This guy who makes this must’ve swallowed gasoline or something, because it’s obvious his taste buds don’t work correctly.”

She blinked at me. “Is that a thing? Swallowing gasoline?”

“My dad did it,” I admitted. “Accidentally, anyway, when he was twenty-five or so. He thought it was a bottle of Mountain Dew that my mom had packed him for lunch. Instead, it was a bottle of gasoline.”

“She packed him a bottle of gasoline?” she squeaked.