Chapter 23 Gianna
Gianna
PRESENT
‘I don’t know how you did it,’ Renny says as he pulls up beside the Hudson Hornet at the front gates, right next to the old Booker Bay Speedway sign.
I’d resprayed the Mustang panels and the paint needs time to cure, so Renny’s my chauffeur to Lucifer’s Dream. It’s strange to see the speedway grounds lit up for the first time in years. The track itself is in no condition to host the carnival, but the car park is a different story.
Mr Fernando and I dedicated all morning and some of the afternoon to cleaning up the weeds and scrap metal before the carnival stalls got the all-clear to set up. I’m exhausted.
‘Your pa helped,’ I admit, even though Mr Fernando did more than help. He has a close friendship with the mayor, who I knew would take some convincing.
The mayor argued that people would connect the prized carnival with street racing, and Mr Fernando persuasively explained how it showed a sense of reconciliation, followed by the importance of not losing the economic benefits from the carnival that Booker Bay relies on each year.
Besides, it’s also something where everyone can enjoy themselves.
There’s only so much sand and sea salt a person can take before they crave something else.
The mayor caved. Mr Fernando sorted all the paperwork and the stallholders didn’t waste any time setting up on the grounds, but the agreement came with a warning: absolutely no racing.
‘Pai’s good like that,’ Renny says.
I roll my eyes. ‘Then why do you give him such a hard time?’
‘The old man loves it.’ A smirk pulls at his lips as his phone vibrates.
He grabs it from the centre console and his face drops at whatever’s on the screen.
I tilt my head to get a better look, only seeing a flash of what looks like a GPS map before he hits the home button and the screen turns black.
‘Be careful tonight, yeah?’ He sucks air through his teeth, not looking up, his mood completely changed.
‘You’re not staying for the carnival?’
‘I just might be. Maybe I should come in and say hello to my Vermelhinha,’ he muses. ‘I bet she misses me.’
I cut him a look. ‘That is not a good idea. I don’t know what happened between you two, but Monz can’t even say your name.’
I pull the door handle, step out and pick a few stray Chuckie hairs from my skirt.
‘Remember what I said.’ Renny leans across to me. ‘Be careful tonight.’
‘Would you chill, Renny? It’s a carnival.’
After watching Renny drive off, I make my way to the concession line, smiling with the knowledge that I’m getting a percentage split from each entry fee. I’ll have this place back open in no time.
X is collecting cash at the ticket booth, a thin stream of smoke leaving the mouthpiece of his Scream mask. He calls me to the front of the line and lets me through.
‘Gia,’ he says, ‘Can’t have you waiting to get into your own show.’
‘Thanks again for doing this.’
He lifts a shoulder. ‘Collecting legal money’s a change, but I kinda like it.’
I smile, then pause and lean in to whisper, ‘Lose the spliff, X. There are kids here.’
‘Yes, boss.’
I give him a wink as I slip through the temporary turnstile. The carnival is teeming with tiny goblins, ghosts and skeletons running amok.
I think I see Landon in a small group, so I dash in the other direction, not having the time for one of our typically sweet interactions which I love so much. I should have given X a blacklist.
Walking into the car park – full of carnival rides, haunted houses and food trucks – feels like walking into The Lost Tropics. The place is pure dynamic energy. Even the familiar scent of oil wisps through, but this time, it’s from the deep-fried chips on a stick.
I spot Monique at one of the picnic tables by the food trucks. I head over, plopping down on the seat opposite her.
‘Hey Monz.’ I give her my biggest smile.
Maybe too big. She eyes me suspiciously, sending unease fluttering around in my chest. Dressed in green Spandex, her Poison Ivy outfit is perfect.
I’d found a carbon fibre mask in my closet that’s hanging around my neck now, and decided a few strips of black fabric on my usual black skirt, boots and a long-sleeved shirt would make me an assassin.
Or was it a ninja? Whatever I am, I grab a few of Monique’s fries.
They’re limp and chewy, making me wince.
‘These are cold,’ I complain.
‘They’re not mine,’ she deadpans.
‘Oh.’ My jaw drops, letting the mush fall back onto the paper plate. I push it aside and interlace my fingers in front of me. ‘I have to check in with the stallholders and make sure they’re okay, but we can go on a ride first. It’s tradition. Take your pick.’
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she pins me with a calculating glare. ‘What happened?’
It’s incredible, it really is, the way she always knows something’s up … or maybe Ryker is right and I am just a Little Suspect.
‘When?’ I twist a few of my rings, not wanting to meet her eyes.
‘Sometime between when I saw you last and now, because you’re doing that thing.’
‘What thing?’ I frown, wishing I had a glass of water to rid the powdery feeling of starch still lingering on my tongue. ‘Aren’t you proud of me? This whole thing would have been canned, and the entry cut will pay for practically all the renovations.’
‘I’m insanely proud of you. I knew you’d have this place sooner or later.
The pressing issue right now is that you’re doing the thing where you’re not looking at me and you’re talking too much, so you’re hiding something.
’ She sips her drink through a paper straw.
The cup matches her red nails. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened? Because it’s written all over your face. ’
Maybe I should just tell her everything.
She looks over my shoulder and gasps, which is quickly followed by the scent of bergamot, leather and bad fucking decisions. I can feel the energy radiating from him. The temperature skyrockets whenever he’s near.
‘Long time no see, Monique.’ Ryker straddles the bench beside me with a thud, looking hot as sin in his black leather jacket and sexy-messy hair. An amused grin crosses his lips as he gives me a look that sets me on fire.
Monique is gaping at him. ‘Long time no see?’ she echoes. ‘What the fuck are you doing here, Ryker? Oh, you remember Gia, don’t you?’ Her voice drips with sarcasm.
‘On what planet would I ever forget my Little Suspect?’ He squeezes my thigh. ‘We’ve already caught up.’
Her attention flicks to me and I feel the colour drain from my face.
Just like it did when Ryker asked me in my bedroom last night if I trusted him.
It felt like I was thrown back in time, with the same college boy looking down at me in the art room asking that very same question.
I was shocked when, despite everything, my answer hadn’t changed.
‘Oh? You’ve already caught up, have you?’ Monz rips me back into the moment.
Ryker gives an award-winning smile and reaches over me to drag the basket of fries toward him. He picks a few and tosses them into his trap, immediately wincing.
‘Gianna.’ He grimaces at me. ‘These are cold.’
I open my mouth, then hesitate. Instead I give a sly grin.
‘I ordered them ages ago. I didn’t think you’d be this late.’ I smile. ‘It’d be a shame for you to waste them, don’t you agree?’
I stand, gesturing for Monz to leave with a nod. I pat Ryker’s shoulder, feeling hard muscle ripple underneath his leather jacket. It’s cool to the touch, though I still feel plenty of heat.
‘Eat up,’ I urge him.
‘Where are you going? Quick bathroom break, maybe?’ He winks.
Asshole. The memory of what happened in my bathroom flashes through my mind.
Arousal simmers at the base of my spine.
I wonder if he knows how much he’s shifted my world on its axis, as if I’m hanging on the Black Point cliff edge with no way out.
Ignoring him, and the sensation, I turn to walk away.
‘Wait. I got something for you.’ He reaches inside his left pocket, pulls out a bright green package and throws it to me.
I catch the rustling paper. It’s a packet of Razzles. He beams, tossing another limp fry into his mouth.
How does he remember something like this?
I press my lips together. ‘Thanks.’
Monique’s still waiting for me. Her tote bag is unzipped and I slip the Razzles into it. We link arms and she leads us toward a queue.
‘When were you gonna tell me he was back?’ she snaps, shooting her gaze at him. Ryker waves with a teasing wiggle of his fingertips, and that stupid fucking smile. He reaches into his jacket, and I wonder what curveball’s coming next.
My breath stalls when he pulls out a black chrome face mask and slips it on.
‘What the fuck?’ I mumble.
My shock becomes a cascade of vitriol, but my step back toward him stalls. A mask shouldn’t set me off. It is Halloween, after all. There are plenty of masks … But why wear that one?
With resignation, I sigh. This isn’t a battle I’m going to fight right now. I turn back to Monz. ‘I didn’t think it was worth telling you.’
‘You didn’t think it was worth telling me your ex-boyfriend is back in town?’
‘He was never my boyfriend.’
‘Well, whatever he was.’ She glares at me as though utterly unconvinced of anything coming out of my mouth. I don’t blame her. ‘Are you okay? Is he back for you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I admit as she crosses her arms over her chest. ‘Would you stop looking at me like that?’
She’s silent and I feel the burn of her eyes as I avoid them. ‘You fucked him, didn’t you?’
My eyes bulge and I shoot her a glare. ‘No,’ I snarl. ‘I did not fuck him.’ I feel heat rise up my neck till it floods my cheeks. ‘I didn’t!’
She puffs out a breath and lets the silence torture me. The Monique Special. Sometimes I think she should be a detective or a police officer, because she’s so good at applying pressure till people snap.
People like me. ‘Okay, something did happen,’ I admit.
The images come flooding back, raising my blood pressure to dangerous levels. I bite my lip before sucking in a deep breath.