Chapter 5 Gianna
Gianna
PRESENT
It’s been seven days since The Lost Tropics race when Ryker came blazing back into my life, and I can’t get him out of my mind.
After I stumbled out of his grasp, I hauled my ass into the Mustang and raced out of his vicinity. I’m pretty sure the speed I hit was a new personal best.
He licked me. Of all things, that asshole licked me. I don’t know what’s worse, that he invaded, consumed and totally owned my space … or that I liked it.
Right now, I’m in the Fernando Garage. My phone shrieks, and even though I should just ignore the call, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for a grilling.
‘I’m so mad at you.’ Monique’s voice comes through the speaker before the video chat even finishes loading. I prop my phone against the sanding block on the workbench just before her face fills the screen.
My camera catches some glare from the overhead lights before it adjusts.
The Fernando Garage is fitted with warm and slightly dim LEDs, but in the painting booth, I need clear, white light so the colour shines true.
Right now, that’s not the only glare I’m getting.
Monique’s scarlet hair frames her scowling face.
I let out an agitated laugh, and my breath ricochets off the respirator mask I’m still wearing, warming my skin. ‘Really? Why?’
She waves a hand in front of her mouth. ‘Can you take that shit off your face? I can’t hear you.’
I pull on the elastic straps and whip the mask off my face before hitting the switch to turn the ventilation ducts off. The whirring simmers down until the fans shut off completely.
‘That’s better.’
‘Why are you mad?’ I repeat. My voice comes out a gravelly rasp, heavy from the fumes.
‘You really have to ask?’
I stare at her for a second before side-eyeing the Chevelle SS chassis perched on the dyno ramp in front of me, brought in for full paint restoration.
I’d pre-mixed the perfect shade of garnet as soon as I’d stepped through the door, and almost had the chassis fully sanded – before my phone rang. Seventeen times in succession.
I look back at my phone. ‘Well, are you going to tell me or just stare a hole into my face?’
‘I haven’t heard from you in a week!’ She levels me with a look. ‘You left The Tropics without saying goodbye and you’ve been ghosting me. For. A. Week!’
‘Well,’ I mutter, grabbing a shop cloth to wipe the fine dust from my fingers, ‘you can see I’m at work. On a Monday morning. Imagine that?’
She gives a resigned huff before propping her own phone up and lazing back on a familiar sofa with a bowl of cereal.
‘Are you in my house?’
‘You’ve been ignoring me, so yes. Call this a wellbeing check.’
‘Well, make yourself at home. Raid my fridge. Take a shower. Go through my drawers,’ I finish with a sardonic grin.
She pointedly chomps down another spoonful as loudly as she can, knowing I can’t stand the sound.
I remind myself to start locking the door, though I probably won’t.
When I moved out, Ma insisted I stay in the urban village on the south side.
I didn’t need her permission to leave, but something about me living in a duplex home eased her anxiety a little.
Besides, Monique would have a heart attack if she came to the door and realised she needed a key.
‘I didn’t need permission, but if you must know, snooping through your things is next on my to-do list. When do you finish? I want to go shopping.’
I groan. I don’t hate shopping – and with Monique, it’s actually fun – but I feel off today. As I have every day since a certain nuisance blazed his way back into Booker Bay and shifted my world on its axis.
I lean across the metal benchtop’s cool edge. ‘Shopping for what?’
Monique’s walk-in wardrobe is massive and full to the brim with both designer and Monique-made dresses.
‘I need outfit inspiration, because guess who got us VIP tickets to Lucifer’s Dream next week?’
‘You?’
She takes another bite of cereal. ‘And guess who needs costumes?’ She does a little happy dance and it’s impossible to not let loose a small smile.
‘We do.’
She starts shooting off a few outfit ideas and I give non-committal hums where they’re due as I drum my almond-tipped nails on the bench.
Annoyance runs through me when I notice a nail is chipped, a little corner on the inside of my thumb.
I’ve been feeling it snag my clothing all morning.
I make a note to file it down later. My fingers may always be covered in paint, but the shape is on point.
Monique’s on the third outfit idea when I realise I’m not getting off this call anytime soon, so I may as well get comfy. Grabbing my phone, I stand up and push open the glass doors into the main workshop. The smell of paint is instantly replaced by odours of rubber, oil and metal.
I enter the back office, where Chuckie looks up from his bed in the corner before stretching out his paws and striding to my side for pats. He jumps up to sit on the couch with me.
‘Who was the biker, by the way?’ Monique’s sudden change of topic throws me.
‘What biker?’
‘The one who wouldn’t bet against you. Huge, black leather, Ducati. Ring any bells?’
‘No one I knew,’ I answer in a half-truth. I don’t know that person. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but the Ryker I know would never be so … cold? There was a darkness in his eyes I’ve only seen once before … on the worst night of my life.
‘Yeah?’ Monique crunches loudly. ‘Then why’d you let him kiss you?’
Heat creeps up my neck and I freeze. Shit, she saw that? ‘What?’
‘You heard me. I didn’t get a look at his face, but I could see yours and I thought you were gonna jump his bones right there. Did you go back to his place? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?’
I stare down at the cracks forming in the old leather couch, wanting to disappear into them. If I tell her Ryker’s back, that would mean his reappearance is real, and I’d like to pretend it’s not for just a little while longer, thank you very much.
Still, do I deny it? No. Monique knows me too well for me to pull that off. The truth then. ‘I didn’t let him kiss me.’
She clicks her tongue. ‘Looked like a kiss to me.’
‘How would you know? You didn’t have your glasses on.’
‘I have contacts now,’ she retorts, her spoon clanging against the bowl, ‘and don’t deflect. You suck at it. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did hook up with a hot biker, babe. I’m worried I’ll be an old grandma when you finally tell me someone’s popped your cherry.’
‘Hey!’ I protest. ‘I’ve done … stuff.’
‘Gianna, please,’ she scoffs. ‘I mean sex. Sex with a big giant cock. A monster cock. That’s what you need.’
‘Would you please stop saying cock?’ I hiss.
‘I just worry,’ she retorts. ‘You never really moved on from …’ Her face gets serious. ‘You know.’
I swallow down the heartache that threatens to choke me and, despite myself, I meet her eyes. I want her to say it. Maybe some tough love is what I need to snap out of it.
‘Who?’ I bark.
‘Don’t make me do this,’ she whines, placing her bowl down to hug the couch cushion in her lap.
‘No,’ I argue, ‘you started this. And now you don’t want the smoke. Let me have it. Who?’
‘Ryker.’
God. Even his name sends my pulse on high alert.
‘It’s okay if you miss him sometimes, babe.’ Monique speaks softly. ‘It was shitty how he just up and left. I know he was your friend for a long time. I just don’t want you to be wasting time waiting for him or something.’
‘I’m not waiting for him. I don’t miss him. And he wasn’t my friend.’ I cringe, sounding depressingly defensive even to my own ears. ‘He was Jace’s friend.’
‘And it’s okay if you miss Jace, too,’ Monique murmurs.
I purse my lips and frown.
A few moments pass before Monique breaks our stalemate. ‘So, when are we going shopping?’
I blow out an exhale. ‘I’m in the thick of this job and it’s going to take another two hours to finish the sanding.’
‘Two hours? Isn’t there a machine you can use to hurry this up?’
‘No,’ I chastise. ‘A machine could burn the metal. I’m hand-sanding this one, it’s an SS!’
‘Well, that’s why you’re the best body paint technician in Booker Bay.’
‘I’m the only paint tech in Booker Bay.’ The best. The only.
It doesn’t matter what I am when the fact is that I hate a time crunch.
I’ll be looking at the time like a countdown clock and just the thought gives me anxiety.
‘How about we go shopping tomorrow? I know that cute new fabric store opens at nine. We can do a coffee run on the way, too?’ I raise my brows, gauging her reaction.
She flitters her fingers across the screen and says, ‘Fine … deal, I guess. But for today I’m going to snoop through your drawers and raid your fridge again. Love ya!’
She hangs up and I get right back to sanding.
The job doesn’t take as long as I thought – the clear coat is rubbed away but before it’s ready for primer, a few superficial dents need to be banged out.
I head back into the office for a quick breather, and look over at Chuckie with a sigh.
He rolls onto his back and I tap his tummy like a drum, feeling his thick skin jiggle.
‘You didn’t get the nickname Chunks for nothing.’ I stand and head for Chuckie’s teal leash hanging on the hook by the door. ‘C’mon, before you get antsy. Walk time.’
He leaps from the couch toward the open roller door, waiting for me while I shimmy out of my coveralls.
I smooth out my skirt and throw on my Kings jacket.
On the way out, I wave to one of the mechanics, letting him know I’ll be back soon.
Probably by the time Renny and Mr Fernando make it in – they like their sleep-ins.
With Chuckie’s leash across my shoulders, he’s free to lead the way. He knows exactly where we’re going and cuts through the back alley of Paws on the Coast to the park.