Chapter 12 #2
“Bohnes, calling in a track favor. Mid-sex.” I start with that because Bastian is already going pale.
“Mid-sex? Bohnes interrupted you mid-sex?” Bastian looks over his shoulder at Widow, appreciating the lean, smooth ease of his gait.
A casual hunter. I believe him when he says if I were anyone else, I would’ve been dead.
I’d kill someone that stole my car, too.
No doubt in my mind. “How is Bohnes still alive?”
“How is Widow still alive, you mean,” Nisha corrects.
“Gets worse,” I murmur, waiting for Jennifer to move the Devil inside once both gates are opened.
There are ten times as many white spotlights as before.
Lots of random signs taped to shit that we ignore, like the one that says Private Property.
This was public property until recently, so what the fuck?
“If Widow and I have a baby, then I’m having another with Bohnes. ”
Nisha and Bastian both stop walking, so I keep going. I’ve got Joanne working as the grand marshal for the night. She sets up right away, scheduling the boys’ race and then taking names from the dozens of other Prescott rats that are already in line to sign up.
We won’t have time for all that before the cops get here.
We can have a little fun before then.
Cars are filling the parking lot behind me.
Some are moving their vehicles to form a circle of metal around the track, like wagons on the Oregon trail.
Pioneer shit, us and these old cars and this very risky practice.
Sure, it’ll keep cops away from the track if they somehow manage to find their way in here.
Also, if something goes wrong during a race… boom.
I grin as my friends rejoin me.
“You’ve lost your motherfuckin’ mind,” Nisha growls as Basti goes, “I get to be an uncle? I’m sort of excited about that.”
“It’s all up to Widow now,” I say dramatically, watching as the bleachers fill with overexcited spectators.
There’s a fuckboy fish happening between two of the picnic tables (girls dance, boys who want ‘em get out there and dance with them). “If he goes for it, then Bohnes does. If he doesn’t, no kids at all.”
“What about Ash and Alexei?” Bastian wonders. I flinch. We should probably talk about all that.
“It’s all up to me,” Widow says, like that’s that.
I…shit. Oh God. I could easily end up agreeing to four kids.
One each. They’re sharing me. It’s sort of like oh, this is the least I can do kinda thing.
Gross. Gross, gross, gross. “So relax. Hitting the track at four-thirty?” he asks, checking his phone.
He’s got the snipped chain around his neck now.
Oh. I’m actually thrilled that his arms are exposed, his breath cloudy in the frigid cold.
Icy track makes for fun races.
I can’t wait.
“Four-thirty,” I agree, not bothering to go any deeper into this conversation while we’re in public.
This is our private business. That’s it.
Nobody else’s. My best friends are the only ones I’m going to tell.
Well, them and Emma Jean. I’ve decided I want her to write it all down, my entire story.
Then I’ll figure out what parts to leave out and be done with it. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“Not enough time for a fuck in the woods?” Bohnes gives me a measuring look as he walks up on my right side, holding a sign with a broken post in his hand.
It’s muddy, the metal crinkled and rusted.
It’s the Nightmare sign, the one that started the culture and the meaning of that word at Prescott High.
“Too bad. How about this instead? I’ll clean it up and hang it in our house, as a wedding present. ”
My jaw drops as Basti slaps a hand over his mouth and Nisha curses under her breath.
“If you don’t want a child with me, I would never ask for one,” Ash whispers at the same time. Alexei is peering down at me, shivering as he processes the crowd and the dirt and the smell of exhaust. He says nothing—for now.
“I, uh.” I’m staring at Bohnes. Ash is standing weirdly close to me, and I like it.
I want him there, staring at me. I love being worshipped by these four dudes, NGL.
It’s heaven on earth. They’re all hot. They’re violent.
Deadly. It’s like owning four tigers but better.
They’re men and they’re mine and I get to fuck the shit out of them every goddamn day.
“The sign…that’s…how are you such a talented gift giver? Your skills blow me away.”
I reach to take the sign from Bohnes. He pulls it out of reach and tsks his tongue.
“I will clean and display this. You will wait to see it on our wall. Maybe I can use it to cover the hole that Widow punched this morning?” Bohnes does not bring any of this up accidentally.
“I’m going to fix it,” Widow says, agreeing with him it seems. “That was dumb. I should have punched you. But I got myself sorted out.” He’s narrow-eyed and pissed off. What a little shit.
I smirk.
“Get your asses on the track before you end up being late.” I pat Ash’s cheek and he leans into it, like the good boy that he is.
A dangerous dog that doesn’t need a leash.
I’ve got him on voice control, baby. Alexei will probably want a kid and that’s why he didn’t mention it.
He came from a loving family, of course he’d want to pass on that childhood to someone else.
Fuuuuck.
“I’ll see you after the race, my darling.” Alexei takes my hand in his, pressing his lips to my knuckles and shuddering all over as the disgust rages through him. His eyes are on mine, emerald with desire.
For the race tonight, Alexei is back in the L88. Bohnes and Widow, they…well, duh. Chevelle. Stingray. Ash has the Cobra which is pretty insane if you really think about it.
“After the police chase, most like,” I correct, aware that we’re going to end up in one by the end of the night. Just the way it usually is. The footage will be fun to play with though. I’ve got a decent online following already. My fans will love this.
“Either way.” Alexei kisses my hand again before releasing me. He climbs into his car with a disturbed look on his face, probably processing all of the things my hand touched before he kissed it. Like Widow’s cum. I mean, I washed it off, but it was all over me earlier. He knows that.
“Are you sure it’s safe for us to race and leave you here?” Ash asks, hesitating before getting in his own car.
He’s really going to be late. Bohnes has already chucked the dirty sign into his tarp-covered trunk—ah, always ready for a body or two, isn’t he—and headed down to the starting line. Widow, too. He’s foaming at the mouth for this.
“I’m sure.” I run my thumb along Ash’s lower lip and his eyes go half-lidded. “Are you going to win tonight, Ash?”
“I have no idea,” he replies honestly. That’s how I feel, too. No clue.
Here are my predictions: Alexei is good, but he’s used to more prissy tracks.
The filth here really gets to him and maybe it doesn’t affect his driving that much, but he’s competing against the best of the best so any handicap is detrimental.
Bohnes is the most ruthless, but the others know his dirty tricks by now.
Widow is improving at light speed, the one with the most unrealized talent.
Ash might’ve beaten me if Widow hadn’t interfered that one time.
He…he did beat…when I lost…
I shut the thought down.
It’s a toss-up. I ain’t makin’ bets.
“May the best man win.” I hold out my hand in the direction of the Cobra and Ash bows at me before taking off, his sword clanking as he runs across the rock-hard ground beneath his feet.
It’s a miracle I’m standing on this ice.
I exhale and then smile, reaching into my pocket and pulling out Alexis’ lighter. A trendy black clove cigarette.
Oh yeah.
“I’ll be shocked if they even get to finish the race,” Nisha says, and she’s right. Doesn’t matter. I walk up to the front of the bleachers and then a little further, to the fence. I curl my fingers through the metal and look through it at the four vehicles parked down below.
Purple. Black. Yellow with a black stripe. Blue and white.
I whistle before taking a drag off my cigarette. The crowd whistles, too. Cheers. People are making out back there. Smoking weed. Drinking from bottles inside of paper bags. Eating cold Wesley’s fries.
Just a normal night at the Prescott track.
The flag waves and off my boys go.
It makes me wet right from the start. I lean into the torn and rusted chain-link fencing, blowing smoke through the holes as I cling to it and watch the track with wide, hungry eyes.
Hell yeah. Four murderous psychos racing one another just to show me how badass they really are.
Trying to impress me. Roiling in dark magic.
It makes me so hot, I instantly regret not leaving time for us to have sex in the woods. I’d have loved that, trying to have an orgy trackside, able to be interrupted at any moment by corrupt cops owned by the mayor. Aww. We missed out.
Widow is bold from the start, taking lead with dangerous maneuvers that nearly send the Stingray skidding off the edge of the track.
The wagon ring of cars and all of the extra lights have added an element that I’ve never dealt with before.
If I were down there, I’d probably do the same as him.
Get a headstart and get away from Bohnes and his violent, unorthodox techniques.
It’s Widow’s only chance. If Bohnes catches up, the heavier build of the Chevelle will throw the Stingray into the parked cars of our classmates. It could be a deadly crash. I shrug off my heavy coat, tossing it to a girl who—
Oh.
I pause briefly to notice that it’s that blue-haired girl I beat the shit out of. What was her name? Something metaphorical and meaningful? True. Her name is True, and I kicked her ass when I was lying to myself. Great.