The shadows of the night hide his rage. I can feel it emanating from every pore of his body. His hand doesn’t rest on the headrest and his foot sits heavily on the gas pedal as we speed back to Port-Harcourt forty kilometers an hour over the speed limit. We just turn onto the 401 when Scott’s phone lights up and vibrates with his BFF’s name on it.

Scott answers, “Hey Jer... She’s not!”

“Bro!” his voice booms, “Lara’s in Labour! I’m going to be a father any minute! She’s screaming for Isabella! Get your asses here!”

“We’re on our way,” he answers.

Lara screams Jeremy’s name and then we...