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No. God, no.

Then I grab the bag from out of his hand and scramble to open the window, shoving the bag through at lightning speed. Only when I close the window does my racing heart subside.

“Hey! That’s mine. Momm!” he whines, and a ripple of sweat drips from me. “It was my favorite one.” Of course it had to be his favorite. I grimace at the thought.

“I’ll buy you a whole bunch,” I state, and Gia’s wide eyes search my face.

“You will?” The hope in Bryce’s voice has me determined to please him.

“Yes. However many you need,” I say, and Gia’s jaw drops open.

“Wow. You’re amazing, Reed!” he shrieks, and I grin from ear to ear, but when I glance at Gia, she is not impressed.

Great, I cheer the kid up and save him from trauma, and this is the thanks I get.

As I pull into the parking lot, I can’t help the disgruntled sound of dread that escapes me. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” I groan at what might as well be a hundred kids and their families gathered inside the restaurant. My chest rises, and I shake my head. “Oh, sweet Jesus, this is awful.”

A chuckle leaves Gia, and I turn my attention toward her. “It’s not funny, Gia. That place is a breeding ground for germs.” I motion toward the brightly lit building. “I’m going to come out of there with whooping cough or something worse.” Digging into my pocket, I pull out the hand sanitizer, dousing my palms in the stuff like it’s at risk of going out of production.

“Whooping cough?” She bites into her lip, as if trying to rein in her amusement, and her eyes sparkle back at me. I can only nod, because my mouth is so dry it can barely function.

She turns her head over her shoulder toward Bryce. “Buddy, why don’t you go inside and start ordering?”

“Okay. What do you want, Reed?”

His question stuns me. All I know is they make some odd-looking burgers out of processed products, and nothing about that appeals to me. I give him a tight smile. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Your loss,” he quips, and hops out and slams the door behind him before I have a chance to tell him that’s doubtful, but at least I’m not the one about to get ringworm.

“You can’t promise him multiple Happy Meal toys, Reed.”

“Well, given that your son was about to dip his hands in a bag that had cum-laced napkins in it, I’m pretty sure you should be thanking me for my quick thinking.”

She searches my face for a sign of sincerity, and when she realizes how truthful I’m being, she bursts out laughing and drags a hand over her face. “Oh my God!”

“I had to do something, so I promised him a bunch of burgers.”

“No. You promised him the toys from the Happy Meals.”

“Whatever.” I shrug.

“Well, they release one toy a week. The previous ones are no longer available.” She glowers back at me, and my face falls as realization dawns on me. I threw the damn toy out of the window, so now I need to figure out a replacement.

Great.

“Come on.” She tilts her head toward the door, and I reluctantly follow behind, hating this place more and more with every step I take, despite not stepping through the door yet.

* * *

Oh God. I’m in literal hell.

A cesspit on a magnitude scale. There’s garbage. Every-fucking-where.

Kids. Everywhere.

Hundreds of the whiny, sobbing, screaming, crying, loud little fuckers. Everywhere.

Adults who have lost all their faculties. Any sense of moral code has gone out the fucking window and into the abyss.