Chapter 7 Gianna #2
I bite back a smile. ‘Is there something you actually have to say?’ Between Chuckie pulling my arms out of my sockets and his threatening barks, I’m not in the mood for this interaction.
‘Straight to the point. I like it.’ Landon rubs at the dark, patchy stubble along his chin, and I notice thick scar lines running vertically through three of his right fingers. ‘There’s another race and we’re looking for a fourth.’
‘Do you enjoy losing your money?’ I let the disdain drip from my words. ‘You remember you lost, right? To me.’
He lifts a shoulder. ‘The only way to be the best is to beat the best. So, you in?’
‘I haven’t got any text messages.’ There’s no way X wouldn’t have included me.
‘It’s …’ He pauses, considering his words. ‘Outside The Tropics.’
In other words, it’s dodgy as shit.
Could this be the race meet that Monz was talking about? Is Landon the organiser? Is this my invitation?
I shake my head. ‘No thanks.’ Chuckie gives another tug, and I squint through the window at Monique. Hurry up.
‘It’s forty grand,’ Landon says.
My attention snaps back to him. ‘Forty thousand dollars?’ Pretty sure my jaw might be on the floor.
‘If you win.’ He enunciates the word pointedly.
A thrill zips through me, loving the challenge in his words. ‘What’s the buy-in?’
‘Eight.’
Shit. Yet the return would give me enough side hustle cash to finally buy the old speedway. Then I could really stick it to Ma.
I chew the side of my cheek, running the numbers in my head.
I’d already ordered more NOS, but that won’t arrive till next week.
Not that I’d need it – I could’ve smoked him without draining a single canister.
I’ve replayed that race in my mind a hundred times and I’ll make sure my hands aren’t so trigger-happy next time. Or so distracted by a certain someone.
I’ve been saving up to buy the speedway for the past four years. Winning Landon’s race meet would finally secure that dream for me. But do I really want to race outside The Tropics?
Landon tilts his head. ‘So, you in?’
The door for Paradiso opens and Monique appears. Seeing my struggle with Chuckie, she hurries over and takes the records from under my arm. The scent of geranium wafts my way as her hair flips around. She gives Landon a cool look of appraisal before meeting my eyes. ‘You ready?’
‘Yeah.’ I pull on Chuckie’s leash. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I’ll be in touch with the details, skirt,’ Landon calls as we retreat, crossing the road toward the fountain.
When we’re on the other side of it, Monique leans in. ‘In touch about what?’
I stretch out my back as Chuckie finally relaxes.
Across the road, a woman with a trench coat sits at a bus shelter, her matching fedora tipped low as she watches on suspiciously.
I lower my voice so only Monique can hear.
‘You know those underground meets you were telling me about? I think it could be him running them.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Her brows pull together.
‘The winner takes home forty grand, Monz.’
‘But you have more than enough money till the next Tropics.’ Monique grips my arm. ‘Besides, I overheard Mr Nessic on the phone saying that Lucifer’s Dream could be cancelled! That’s the real tragedy.’
‘Monz—’ I protest.
‘Stop it.’ She cuts me off. ‘I know you have this thing about the old speedway, and I’m not here to shit on your dreams, but there’s no rush.
It’s not going anywhere, and the money will come, babe.
’ She pauses, regarding me with a look of tough love.
‘We’re gonna get the money, but we’re gonna get it at The Tropics, because that’s where X is in charge.
I breathe easier knowing he’s looking out for you. ’
I try to laugh. ‘I don’t need X to look after me.’
Monique pauses, the energy shifting into something else. When she chances a glance at me, there’s a sadness in her eyes. ‘I don’t think you get what it’s like.’
Confusion takes over at her serious tone. ‘Get what what’s like?’
She sighs like she’s explaining the most obvious and simple thing in the world to me, then her face softens.
‘I told myself I’d never tell you. Not since you started sneaking out to the blast furnaces after that awful night to teach yourself how to quick-shift.
I honestly thought it would stop there. But …
I worry about you every race, girl. You know I support you.
In anything. I always will. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy, seeing you risk your life every time you come to the races.
I’ll bet the cash, I’ll con the newbies, I’ll do whatever.
But it doesn’t mean I’m not clutching at my heart the moment you take off from the line.
It’s ten seconds of zero breathing. None.
Like no air intake at all. Not until you’re out of the car with every curl intact.
So, please, if you can do just one thing for me and just keep my anxiety focused on The Tropics … that would be great.’
She’s left me completely speechless. I didn’t know she felt this way.
‘Besides,’ Monique continues, with a little more flair back in her voice, ‘that dude seriously needs a trip to the salon. Like, hello? It’s called purple shampoo. And did you see his shoes? Who told him fringe bows were in?’
She pulls a disgusted face. Our eyes meet, and we burst into laughter. Monique links her arm through mine and stuffs my records into her absurdly huge tote bag.
We make our way to the fabric store. We browse aisles of colourful cloth as Monique fills me in on her new prospect, but I barely take in her words. I can’t stop thinking about Landon’s challenge.
I understand what Monz is saying. There’s risk in this.
But she can’t be anxious about something she doesn’t know is happening.
I’ve already beaten Landon once. I know I can do it again.