8. Eloise
8
ELOISE
TWO MONTHS LATER
My sisters barge into the house in a cloud of chaos.
Margot plants her hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked and lips pursed. “Louie, tell our sister that she simply cannot stay home from school because some asshole middle schooler was talking shit about where we live.”
I tear my gaze away from my laptop, hitting pause on my favorite baking competition show. “What’s going on, Vivie? Should I call Principal Heyward?”
“Oh my god, no . Don’t call her. That would make everything worse. God, you guys don’t understand anything,” Vivie says. She turns on her heel and stomps toward their bedroom at the end of the hall.
The incredulous sass she’s tossing out isn’t for the faint of heart. Some days, I honestly don’t understand where she’s learning half this shit. But then Margot scoffs under her breath, and I’m not confused anymore.
“Don’t even think about slamming that door, Vivienne,” I warn, pitching my voice so she can hear it over her purposely loud footfalls.
“Ugh,” she groans. But she doesn't slam her door, so I’m taking it as a win.
I close the lid on my laptop and cross the living room, meeting Margot in the adjacent kitchen. “What’s going on? Should we be worried?”
Margot pops her head out of the fridge, a can of caffeinated water in her grip. “That the next generation of boys are going to grow into a crop of pigtail-pulling entitled douchebags? Uh, yeah, Louie, we should all be worried about that.”
“Okay,” I drag the word out, shaking my head a little. I don’t know why I continue to be surprised by the shit that comes out of her mouth, but I am. “Not that I disagree, but I meant about Vivie. What happened?”
She pulls the tab; the carbonation fizzing loud enough I can hear it across the kitchen. “I already took care of it. Told that little punk if he doesn’t leave her alone, I’m going to go to his house and fill his bed with centipedes.”
My mouth falls open, shock stealing all of my words.
She tips her drink toward me. “Yeah, that’s kind of the expression he made too.”
“Margot. What the fuck?” My brows cave in, and I stare at my sister with that familiar feeling of parental concern. “Did you threaten a seventh grader, bro? Because one phone call can send Vivie back to whatever shithole Ma is camping out in. We stay on the right side of the law, remember?”
She rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her drink. “You literally get dirt on people for a living. I highly doubt that shit’s legal, but whatever. I’m not going to apologize for setting that punk on the straight and narrow when it comes to Vivie.”
I lean my ass against the counter behind me, folding my arms across my chest. “You should’ve let me handle it. Principal Heyward would’ve taken care of it.”
Margot shrugs, the picture of unaffected. “Her hands are tied. She’d never go against a trust fund kid, and definitely not for a voucher one.”
I sigh. “C’mon, Margot. Don’t start that again, yeah? You know she’s on a partial scholarship at Hartford Prep.” And I still pay almost twelve hundred dollars a month. It’s the most prestigious k-through-eight school within three counties, and thank god, it’s only thirty minutes from our house.
“Yeah, well, those kids are fucking assholes. You wouldn’t know.”
Her words aren’t intended to slice, but they do. I barely graduated high school, and that’s only because my counselor pulled a few favors with some teachers and let me make up some work. I never really did well in school anyway, always acutely aware of the money I could be making if I was working for those seven hours instead of sitting in a cold classroom, listening to someone talk at me.
“And look where you are now.” I lift both of my brows at her as if to say, look what that school did for you .
“Yeah, well, half those Hartford fucks are at Stanton Hill.” She waves her hand in the air, like she’s waving away this conversation. “But I don’t care. I can handle all of ’em, but Vivie? She’s not like me, and she’s not like you.”
Most people would bristle at that kind of comparison, but not me. It’s a fucking good thing that she’s not like me or Margot. Margot was old enough to remember how bad shit got with Ma, not all the details, but enough to know how things were. But Vivie wasn’t. And I thank the universe for that every day.
I’ve done my best to give her the most normal, boring life possible.
We blast Taylor Swift in the kitchen because we want to sing and dance, not because we’re trying to cover up the sounds of Ma and her friend getting fucked up in the other room.
“Anyway.” She drags the word out. Her gaze bounces around the kitchen, landing on everything but me.
My fearless sister is nervous about something, which makes me nervous.
“Just say it.” I lean my ass against the counter and fold my arms across my chest, bracing for impact.
Margot toys with her can, spinning it around on the counter next to her. “Well, see, the thing is, remember how you took my advice and did something spontaneous a couple of months ago?”
I never told her or anyone else the specifics of that night with Beau in Oak Creek.
That night felt like something that belonged to me and only me. It wasn’t a secret, but something I wanted to keep close. Something just for me. A reminder that sometimes magic can happen. Even if only for a fleeting moment under the stars, with a man hotter than sin.
I glare at the scuffed soles of my sneakers and wait her out.
She sighs. “Well, I was riding real high off the fact that you took my advice, so when this opportunity fell into my lap, I jumped on it. And I mean, I pounced on it, Louie.”
I shake my head as a thousand scenarios run through my head, each one worse than the one before it.
Margot reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She flattens it against the counter, her fingers smoothing over the creases before she slides it across the counter.
I glance up, preparing myself to school my expression, no matter what’s on the piece of paper.
Of all the possibilities running through my head, this never even came close to making the list.
Pale green paper with an illustrated blue octopus taking up one half of the flyer. I don’t even need to read any more to know what it is. Everyone knows what the blue octopus means.
It’s not a crew like Seven Pines. It’s not a gang either. More like a community. An underground racing community. I only knew of them when I saw an octopus flyer at Seven Pines’ garage a few years ago. One of the mechanics, Smitty, talked my ear off for damn near two hours about the Gauntlet. He had a cousin buy-in five years ago, made it all the way to the semifinals too. Then it turned ugly and quick. Friends turned on one another and sabotage ran rampant.
I’ve heard rumors of people training for years to be ready for the Gauntlet. They travel in from all over the region to qualify. It’s like their Super Bowl times ten. The way Smitty talked about it, the Gauntlet might as well be their holy grail. The payout is bigger, the stakes are higher, and the only rule is there are no rules.
And my sister just signed me up for it.
“I entered you in The Gauntlet.”
I can feel the blood drain out of my face, and I almost glance at the floor to make sure it’s not in a pool beneath my feet. I feel lightheaded and dizzy, like the one time I wasn’t paying attention, and smashed my head into Nate’s garage door as it was opening.
“Why.”
She jams her index finger into the paper. “It’s the Gauntlet, sis. The fucking Gauntlet .”
“What do you even know about that?”
She taps her fingernail on the counter, her lips pursing. “I know you’re the best goddamn driver in all of Seven Pines, and your talent is wasted as an amateur pornographer.”
“Jesus Christ. I am not a”—I lean forward and lower my voice—“pornographer, Margot.”
“You’re damn right you’re not. You’re the best motherfucking driver in all of Avalon Falls,” she shouts, like she’s hyping me up before a game or something.
I roll my eyes and force some of the anger to relax. I just realized I have an out. A definitive one. “You’re ridiculous, you know. And besides, it doesn’t even matter. I’m not paying the buy-in, so this entire conversation is moot.”
“Well,” she says, her voice high-pitched in the way that I already know I won’t like what she says next. “See, the thing is Lou Thorne, I already paid your buy-in.”
Three questions slam into my brain at the exact same time.
“Stop. Back up. Explain.”
Her mouth curves into a triumphant grin, and she leans forward, planting her elbows on the counter. “I entered you under Lou Thorne, because fuck the patriarchy, remember? Those assholes are vicious in the Gauntlet, especially those pre-qualifiers, so you gotta stay in your car until after you smoke their slow asses.”
Lou Thorne is the fake name I use when I have to book a motel room while working. Creeps are more inclined to leave me alone if they don’t know I’m a woman traveling alone.
“What?” It comes out as an exasperated gasp.
My sister is oblivious, chattering away like I didn’t say anything. “And the buy-in wasn’t even that bad. Only five Gs.”
My eyes feel like they’re bulging out of their sockets, shock stealing my voice. Disbelief is swift on its heels, and I clear my throat. “Where exactly did you get that kind of money? If you’re about to tell me that you dropped out of school without telling me, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Please, like your eagle-eyes wouldn’t notice if I had?”
I’m a little ashamed to admit that she’s wrong on that account. I’m not sure I would have. I’ve been preoccupied lately, my head stuck in the clouds, with a certain memory playing on repeat.
“Where, Margot?”
She blinks. “Nate.” She pauses. “Or maybe you’re sponsored by Seven Pines now? I’m honestly a little unsure. Once we got to The Alley, I kind of tuned Nate out, no offense. That man just talks and talks sometimes, ya know? Anyway,” she says with a sigh. “You’re paid up. No refunds, no take backs. Your pre-qualifier is in three days, sis.” She blows out a breath with a quick nod.
I clamp my lips shut, stuffing all the words I want to unleash behind my teeth. Glaring at my sister, I swipe the goddamn octopus flyer off the counter and turn on my heel.
“Watch Vivie,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Wait, where are you going?” she calls to my back.
“I’m going to find my ex-friend, Nate, and run him over with my car.”