40. Dane
40
DANE
It’s hard to miss the lime-green car parked beside mine in the crowded parking structure. Not when the fiberglass hood is totaled. A headlight is caved in. One tire is missing a rim. In other words, it’s a fucking mess.
How it got up to the fourth level without falling apart like a terribly wrapped burrito is nothing short of a miracle.
A vein in my forehead pulses. Anticipation tightens my muscles while I scan the surrounding area with keen eyes, gearing up for whatever bullshit awaits me. The rush of traffic sounds in the far distance. Idle chatter rises from the ground floor. Wisps of smoke float in the air and drag my attention westward.
Within seconds, Wally steps out from between two random vehicles and crushes a cigarette beneath his boot. He doesn’t say a word. He just stands there and sneers at me. The atmosphere hangs heavy with silence. Tension simmers in the air.
It’s on me for hoping that I could go one semester without any bullshit happening. After all, hope is a dangerous thing to have. Especially for someone like me.
“I’d ask what you’re doing here,” I say, my voice gaining a caustic edge, “but I think the bigger question is, do you know where you are ?”
His scowl deepens. “Do I what?”
“Because there’s no way a place like this would let you in,” I continue. “Unless Belford lowered their admission standards. If that’s the case?—”
“Why were you asking about me?”
I grit my teeth. Fucking Eddie. I should have known better than to assume my talk with him would stay between us two. Unlike his lady, he can’t keep his mouth shut.
Wally draws nearer, and I shift my stance. Abruptly, he halts.
“Just wanted to see if… we had any mutual friends,” I say blandly.
He scoffs. “Can’t imagine anyone being friends with you.” His mouth tilts into a slight smirk. “You thought I got my guys to jump you? Well, maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Who knows? Maybe I know something you don’t.”
Skepticism courses through me as I give his busted headlight a sidelong glance. “Doubt that.”
“And I’ll tell you what I know,” he continues, “if you hear me out. I’ve got a business project for you.”
“ Proposition .”
“Does it look like I have girls with me, Old News?” he demands. Like all the teachers in his life, I decide not to bother cultivating the only two brain cells rattling inside that empty head of his.
“Listen, Wallet?—”
“ Wally .”
“I’m not interested in whatever bullshit you’re spewing my way,” I maintain. “You’d have a better time convincing me to get rid of my cars?—”
“I need you to lose.”
With a huff, my attention slips sideways to his shattered side-view mirror. “Yeah, you’d have a better time convincing me to?—”
“If you lose to me at the next race.” He pauses for a dramatic breath. “I’ll give you a cut of my win.”
“Yeah, hard pass,” is my immediate response. To spare us both from the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, I barrel on. “What do you think will happen when Giancarlo finds out we fixed it?”
“He won’t.” The smug, cocksure grin working its way across his face tells me this plan is going to end up with us being paid a visit by Giancarlo’s goons. Forgive me if I don’t want to find out what it’s like to lose a kneecap once and for all.
My arms cross my chest. “Pass.”
I don’t want to know what would encourage his two brain cells to seek me out in broad daylight. Especially at Belford, of all places. I have no clue how he found me to begin with. I just want him gone.
“I only need to win a couple of them. All you have to do is drive?—”
“GC isn’t on the same level of intelligence as you,” I say dryly, and he nods in agreement. “He’ll find out. He always finds out.”
“He won’t,” Wally insists, and I give him a wary stare.
He’s… too persistent. This could be a trick Giancarlo cooked up for me. Something to see if I’d take the bait and try to screw him over. Loyalty is a big thing for him. But the idea alone is insulting to Giancarlo’s intelligence and mine.
Not only that, Wally’s the last guy Giancarlo would ever want to work with. Wally’s simply too volatile. Impulsive. This is the same guy who once branded his chest at a meet just to impress a girl he didn’t even know.
Regardless, I know how this will end if I get involved. Double-crossed and screwed over isn’t a prediction. It’s a guarantee. Like his car, this has trouble written all over it.
“Fuck off,” I grunt, and his nostrils flare.
“Whatever.” He glowers. “You’ll regret it when I beat your ass next time?—”
“I know statistics is too big of a word for you,” I deadpan, and his expression darkens. “But given the fact that you’ve won a sum total of zero races in all of our matches, the odds are stacked against you.”
I barely take a step back, dodging his right hook. Before he lands a blow to the side of my head, I duck and grab his arm mid-swing. With a rough shove, he stumbles onto the asphalt.
Breathing hard as he scrambles to his feet, he spares me an agitated glare. Christ. If he’s willing to attack me in broad daylight, he’s that stupid. And desperate. It doesn’t bode well for me.
I need to put an end to this. I don’t want to give my girl another scare by acquiring a brand-new shiner on my mug. And nobody in their right mind enjoys getting their face pulverized.
“I’m gonna give you the chance to go.” The muscles in my shoulders grow tense as I ball my hands into fists. “Try to hit me again, and I’ll fucking rearrange your face.”
His jaw tightens. “You’re gonna regret this. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure you lose?—”
“I won’t lose a damn thing to you,” I state flatly. Does he think I’m scared? Shaking in my fucking boots? Even a basket of kittens is scarier than this. He can keep dreaming all he wants, but there’s never going to be another race between us.
I meant every word about calling it quits and walking away from this life. I cannot risk getting dragged into more bullshit like this.
“Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
He says nothing, so I brace myself for whatever bullshit his petulant ass will pull. Only, he doesn’t swing at me. He doesn’t lunge at me, either.
Instead, he stalks off to his vehicle. His baggy jeans swish loudly with each stomp. His jaw is clenched in a harsh scowl. Reaching his door, he yanks it open, then slams it into the side of my fastback.
His blank eyes lock on mine over the roof of my car as he does it again. And again. With no sign of stopping.
I want nothing more than to repeatedly slam his head into the side of his coupe until he’s knocked out cold, but I remain rooted in place and school my features into something blank. Breathe through my nose. Silently meditate for the first time in my damn life just to remain calm. He’s fucking up my paint job, but that’s an easy fix. So long as I’m not picking my girl up from the bookstore with a black eye, he can bash in one of my headlights for all I care.
Clearly, my lack of a reaction wasn’t what he wanted. With a frustrated snarl, he kicks at my side-view mirror. “You’re gonna lose, Old News. You’re gonna lose everything. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”
He punches my passenger window, then jumps into his coupe and slams the door shut. A smug little smirk pulls at my lips at the sound of his engine failing to turn over. It’s music to my ears.
He cuts me with a sneer before his shitbox car finally comes to life. Flipping me the bird, he peels out of the parking spot and sets off a cacophony of alarms.
“Dumbass.” Unclenching my jaw, I glance skyward for a minute and wait for my annoyance to subside. Once the tension no longer lingers in my chest, I head over to the fastback’s hood to see if he tampered with anything before I arrived.
“He did what to your car?” The look on Marco’s face brings a wry grin to mine. He drags his fingers through his wet hair, then wedges his surfboard into the sand. “You don’t fuck with a man’s car.”
“No fucking shit.” My line of sight goes above his shoulder. Reese is standing near the shore with her camera in her hands, capturing shots of the surfers riding the early morning waves. “But if my girl asks?—”
“You backed into a pole like a dumbass,” he supplies innocently. “Sideswiped it, too.”
“—some dumbass hit it while I was in class and left behind some bogus insurance info.”
“Do you really think anyone’s gonna believe that?” He gives me a dubious glance. “Your ass rarely shows up to lectures?—”
I show him my middle finger, and he snickers.
“I got your back,” he says, and I nod. “Can’t believe he did that, though.”
Me neither, but I tip my head and sit up straight just as Reese snaps a photo of us. Soon, she’s stashing her camera in her bag while she makes her way over.
Her arms wrap around her stomach the moment she’s within reach. Her cheeks are mottled red from the blustery chill of the wind. Stray flyaways of her hair catch on the breeze.
“Oh my God,” she rasps, peering up at Marco. “How do you get into the water willingly ? It’s freezing out here.”
“You cold?” With a grin, I pat my thigh. “Come here.”
“Aw, baby, thanks.” Marco bursts into a hearty guffaw when I shove him away from me. Hand to the face. “You gonna do me like that?”
“You’re not my girlfriend,” I deadpan, hoisting my girl onto my lap. She wriggles her sweet ass into my crotch as she settles into my arms, and I bite back a groan.
“I’m your best friend, though,” he says. “We’ve known each other for how long now? You’ll just let me freeze to death despite everything we’ve been through? Fucking cold-blooded, man.”
Groaning, I shake my head in exasperation.
Reese giggles and leans into me. “I’m curious. How long have you guys known each other?”
Marco beats me to the punch. “For a long time. I’ve known him since the night he crashed his daddy’s car into my uncle’s shop.”
“How exactly is that a long time?” I counter, and he snorts.
“It won’t ruin your street cred to admit you have friends, Kingsy.” He takes a seat beside us on the hood of my car. “You know, as his oldest friend, I’m surprised Sunshine over here got himself a girlfriend. He never tells me anything.”
“I tell you enough.”
Marco ignores me. “How did you two meet again?”
“At a cafe?—”
“When my ass got curb-stomped,” I say at the same time, and Reese tosses a frown over her shoulder.
“Shit, you got your ass kicked at a cafe?” Marco howls with laughter. “What did you do, Kingsy? Said that you preferred almond milk to oat milk? Asked them to grind some coffee beans by hand, one at a time?”
“GC,” I grate out, and his expression sobers within a split second. Understanding fills his gaze. We haven’t discussed my attack since the morning he picked me up from Reese’s apartment.
Truthfully, I’m going out on a limb here. Grasping at straws. It’s a reach, but it’s something, which is better than nothing.
Eddie doesn’t know why I was ambushed that night. Shyla’s got no clue, either. For all I know, they could be lying to protect Wally, but that’s an even bigger reach. Wally’s too dumb to orchestrate anything like that.
Reese turns her head and finds my gaze, her eyes inquisitive. Searching. “What’s GC?”
“Some guy I no longer associate with,” I reply slowly, stealing a glance at Marco. The weight of my words lingers in the air.
“No?” While his face gives nothing away, the hint of infliction in his tone betrays him.
“Nah, I’m done.”
His surprise is evident in his arched brow. His expression smoothes into something neutral when Reese refocuses her attention on him. “Right on, man. You’re way too good to be rolling with him.” My chin hikes in acknowledgment when he continues. “So, what do you plan on doing?”
I nearly draw in a ragged breath. Besides the obvious—buying cars and fixing them—I haven’t got the faintest clue. The idea of sitting in all those finance lectures makes me itchy already. A familiar restlessness takes hold of me without a moment wasted.
“Help Snack Mix catalog onion rings from every restaurant along the coast for her fiesta.”
Confusion passes over his profile as he slowly blinks, then releases a cough at the sentence I delivered with a straight face. “Uh, have fun? Or you could finally learn how to surf?”
My features pull taut with the grimace forming around my lips. Surfing is his thing, not mine. I don’t want to wake up at an ungodly hour every morning to catch some waves at their peak. I’d rather stay in bed with Reese plastered to my side, clinging to me.
“You’re missing out, Kingsy.” He hops off my hood and stretches his arms over his head. “If you ever want lessons…” His offer isn’t directed at me. He spares Reese a nod, and she immediately shakes her head.
“I’m busy as it is. I have way too many science classes I need to stay on top of this semester,” she stammers. “But thanks.”
With a chuckle, he grabs his board. “Have fun with your… onion rings.”
“See ya later, man,” I tell him, and a snort slips out when he does a mock salute while he treks backward toward the ocean. Then I sneak a kiss on Reese’s temple, grinning when she squeals. “Still cold?”
“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel my arms.”
My head ducks, and I bite the pulse point between her neck and shoulder. “Think pancakes will warm you up?”
“With a nice cup of coffee, perhaps.” Her breathing hitches when I scrape my teeth against her soft skin. “Coffee and pancakes sound pretty great right now.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“You don’t want to watch him surf?” Abruptly, she straightens herself and frowns.
“We came here for the sunrise,” I remind her. “The sun has risen. Now let’s go.”
A soft laugh dispels from her chest. “At least watch him take on one wave.”
I exaggerate a groan, and she giggles even harder. “All right, fine. You drive a hard bargain, Reese’s Pieces.” Tightening my arms around her, I rest my chin on the crook of her shoulder.
After we’ve witnessed him catch at least a dozen waves, we finally leave the beach. The one thing I love most about the weekends is how empty the streets are. No nine-to-five traffic. No morning gridlock. It’s nothing but the clear, open road before me.
I’m not gunning it, though. Times like this call for a slower cruise, so I can savor the morning sunlight burning through the fog and brightening the sky.
“Speaking of onion rings,” Reese says. “The cat has been clawing up my futon.”
“Put the damn thing out of its misery,” is my immediate response, and she gasps. My hand lifts in defense. “It’s on its last leg, and it’s springy as fuck. It poked the shit out of me.”
“Let me guess,” she says dryly. “The only good poking is of the penis variety.”
“Penis variety?” I chuckle under my breath. “You’re not wrong?—”
A loud revving sound cuts me short. My spine goes ramrod straight as some orange sports car pulls up beside me. My peripheral vision takes a quick inventory. It’s last year’s model with illegally tinted windows and a wide-body kit installed. The exhaust’s got a muffler delete. A spoiler wing is mounted to the trunk, complete with vortex generators attached to its roof.
Whoever’s behind the wheel revs his engine again. I grit my teeth and pointedly keep my eyes trained forward while my mind whirls. I need to determine the best course of action here. Take a right at the next stoplight or drop my speed.
“Do you know the guy?” Reese shouts.
The prick won’t let up with the revving. I hope he fucks up his valve.
“Nah.” Easing my foot off the gas pedal, I watch the vehicle from the corner of my eye. “No clue who he is. Just ’cause he’s got a stupid car doesn’t mean I know him.”
Tension drains from my body when the guy finally takes the hint and plows ahead in an orange blur.
“You didn’t want to race him?”
“Fuck no.” My tone is blunt as I relax my grip on the steering wheel. “Not with you in the car.”
“What?” she breathes. “I wouldn’t mind.”
A deep growl sounds from my chest. “I would.” My foot taps the brakes when we reach an intersection. “One, civilians are driving at this time of day. Two, this street is notoriously crawling with cops. It’s practically a speed trap.” As if on cue, a patrol car makes a left turn ahead of us. “Three, I don’t want anything to happen to you if something goes down.” My words dry up in my throat, and I clear it. “Four, the last thing I want is to deal with my father if he were to catch wind of this.”
The lights change, and I step on it. Reese remains silent beside me. Just when I think the conversation is over, she speaks.
“I thought you liked to race, though?” Notes of genuine curiosity fill her voice.
“I do,” I answer truthfully. God knows I do. “But I like to go against people who know what they’re doing. In an area cleared of civilians—” A smug grin breaks across my face. Up ahead, the orange sports car has been pulled over.
“Can I watch you?”
“Nah, Mini Reese,” I tell her. “No fucking way.”
“What? Why not?” she asks. “You always do things I want to do. I want to support your interests, too.”
The idea of bringing her to a meet sends a wave of dread through me. No self-respecting car guy would take his girl to that kind of scene. Not only that, I don’t want to run the risk of anyone finding out about her and trying to fuck with me through her.
It’s for her safety and my peace of mind. The last thing I need is for her to be more worried about me as well.
“I’m not about that life anymore.”
“So you’re giving it up? You don’t want to do it for fun?” she tries, and I refrain from groaning.
“Go-karts are perfect for that.”
“Race cars .”
“Go-karts are a type of car.”
A weary sigh escapes her. For a moment, neither of us speaks. It’s just the hum of the engine as I cruise down the stretch of road. My fingers drum a quick beat on the steering wheel. Her knee bounces while she hits me with puppy-dog eyes.
This girl, I swear to God.
“If you want to support my interests,” I begin, my words heavy with reluctance.
She nods and breaks into a beam, her enthusiasm permeating the small space between us. Dammit. She’s making it hard for me to say no. Especially when she’s practically vibrating in her seat.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can set something up for next weekend.” I pause. “But, baby, you don’t have to turn yourself into a car girl for me. I don’t want you to go through all that trouble. Just because I like ’em doesn’t mean you have to.”
“It’d be nice to have something in common.”
“We hate shitty music,” I deadpan. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It would be nice,” she reiterates. “So, what’s happening next weekend?”
“There’s a track more inland where they let you drive?—”
“With go-karts?”
“With any car,” I correct. “There’s no speed trap—no tickets for speeding, either. We can take Ol’ Reliable out there?—”
“Really?” She abruptly stops bouncing. “What about your motorcycle?”
“We don’t need to go to a track for you to learn how to ride my bike,” I point out. “You just need to wear something that’ll protect you in case you fall.”
“You don’t mind me crashing your bike?”
“Well, I’d much rather you didn’t,” I tease, tapping the brakes at the next red light. “I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s all.”
The moment my Mustang comes to a complete standstill, she scoots over and presses her lips against my cheek. A stupid grin plasters across my face when she peels back, but it falters when my gaze flies over her shoulder.
To the shiny white hybrid, where two chicks are gawping at us with wide eyes and slacked jaws. They look familiar, but I can’t place their names.
“Friends of yours?” I ask, and Reese furrows a brow while she follows my line of sight. A squeak escapes her while her entire frame goes stiff as a board. “ Not friends of yours?”
She wheezes while they make a right turn. The moment they’re out of sight, she sinks into her seat and shoves her hands into her hair. “They’re Lili’s sorority sisters.”
“Maybe they didn’t recognize you?” I suggest, and she lifts her head to spare me a funny look. In my periphery, the lights turn green, but my focus remains on her. “Guess we don’t have to sneak around anymore, huh?”
With a quiet exhale, she casts a glance out the windshield. Her fingers play with the hem of her sweater. Something a lot like apprehension flickers across her slender profile.
Pasting on a reassuring grin, I reach over, take her hand, and give it a gentle squeeze. She tries to smother it, but a small, tentative smile plays at the edge of her lips when she finally meets my gaze.
“Guess not.”