Dante and the rest of the crew wrapped up work and piled into their respective cars by six o'clock sharp, ready to take a break from the backbreaking work and return home to their families.
"Yo Dante!" Freddie yelled as he ran down the front porch steps to Dante's pickup truck, "I'm driving!" Freddie and Dante had lived two doors apart for most of their lives. In fact, the two of them had got the job around the same time.
Dante tossed him the keys over the car and said, "Fine, but you're paying for any damages, plus another hundred for emotional distress."
Freddie caught the keys mid air and raised his eyebrow, "For this piece of shit?" he questioned as the engine sputtered to life. He tossed his toolbox in the back and said, "You've got to be crazy to be haulin this thing around the roads."
"Do you want to drive or not?" Dante asked with playful irritation.
Freddie scrunched his nose and sighed, "Yeah, no I'll drive. Tell my mama I loved her though." Freddie winked before receiving a lighthearted, but still hard, punch in the arm.
Dante knew Freddie was just messing around. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that there was no way in hell Dante would get rid of the truck, and it wasn't just because of his undying love for the vehicle. Dante's grandfather was known for being stingy with his money, so it shocked everyone in the neighborhood when they saw Manuel Gomez drive up in the then brand new beautiful truck. He was extremely careful with the truck and never let anyone else touch it. Anyone who dared lay a finger on his prized possession was gifted a not so thinly veiled threat about the removal of such appendages should the behavior occur again.
There was a period of time when Dante's grandmother had assumed he was cheating on her, but further investigation showed that he was simply spending time with the car. For some reason, that seemed to enrage her even more than if he had simply cheated on her.
On his deathbed, Manuel Gomez kicked everyone out but a crying, twelve year old Dante. Dante's grandfather put the keys to the old car in Dante's shaking hands and in a raspy voice threatened, "If you sell her for scraps, I will rise from beyond the grave and personally kick your ass."
With that, he was gone. Dante had never believed in ghosts, but still had a deep respect for them (just in case), and his grandfather sure as hell deserved to be respected from beyond the grave. Dante loved the car, but he'd fallen a bit behind on repairs. He'd always had more imminent financial situations to handle. Otherwise the broken taillight would have been fixed already.
Freddie was about to drive away from the site when the two saw Alex kicking his own battered car.
"Piece of-" Alex began, hitting the roof of the car with frustration, the car rattling under the excessive force.
Freddie pulled up next to him and pointed inside the truck, "Wanna take your chances?"
Dante threw his hands up in frustration as Alex seemed to actually consider staying out in the cold at the site all night instead of taking the offer. "Just get in the damn car man!"
Alex gave him a dirty look that seemed to say, "Don't try that tone with me," but got in the pickup truck regardless. Dante ignored the look Freddie gave him when the car creaked under the new weight. Freddie blasted his rap music as they left the neighborhood, gleefully receiving side eyes from residents who had already moved in.
Dante zoned out pretty quickly when Freddie started rapping along to his music. He would have normally joined in, but the song had so many n- words, Dante decided it was better to just sit this one out and let Freddie do his thing. Even Alex was nodding off in the back.
Freddie's rapping put the image of Nandita soundlessly singing along to whatever music she was listening to and dancing like no one was watching. It probably wasn't good dancing (no dancing is good when you can't hear the music), but the weight she carried behind her eyes seemed to be lifted for a few seconds. She seemed to emulate pure unconditional happiness. If Dante hadn't witnessed the short but significant incident, he would have written her off as a victim of teenage angst.
Dante shook his head violently, attempting to pull himself out a spiral of overanalyzing a complete stranger, just in time to realize they'd pulled over on the rundown bridge just ten minutes from their home and notice the blaring red and blue lights surrounding the vehicle. Dante looked around and absentmindedly tapped Freddie.
"Freddie, what's going-" Dante turned around to look at Freddie who was shaking and sweaty, his knuckles almost white as they tightly grasped the steering wheel. Dante tried futilely to calm his friend down.
"Pull your phone out," Freddie whispered. Dante understood and fumbled with his phone, trying to open the camera app.
When Freddie had moved to their street, he was one of the quietest kids in class. Dante remembered how his mother asked him to try and be friends with the new kid and something about how it's got to be hard "seeing your father get shot six times". They didn't talk about it a lot, but from what Dante could piece together, Freddie's dad had an encounter with the police that went south. The officer was suspended for six weeks, but nothing else happened because the officer said it was out of self defense and there was no proof otherwise.
It made Freddie's mom sick to live a mile away from the man who killed her husband, so she packed it all up and moved back with her parents, two doors down from Dante. Freddie slowly lowered his walls again, but tried to limit his interactions with the law enforcements to a maximum of zero. Under normal situations he would've just run away and let his accomplices take the fall, and they'd let him, considering his backstory, but this time it would probably make matters worse.
Dante finally managed to open the camera app and started the video, just as the buff white police officer approached the car, his hand already covering his gun holster. Dante felt a churning feeling in his stomach that things were going to get a bit worse before they got better.