Chapter 10
10
FORD
P ulling up to the starting line, I roll my window down and look at Trent in the GTO next to me.
Trent smirks. “Are you ready, bitch?”
He revs the exhaust of his nine hundred horsepower ’69 GTO, drowning out my response. The smell of gasoline from the smoke floats like a cloud of dust in the light breeze. I look down the two-lane backroad we used to race as kids. There is no one out here, just us. After my cars were delivered, Trent was itching to race like a kid wanting his piece of cake.
I gave him a choice between the three cars I had shipped here from where they were parked at my house in Vegas, a mansion I bought just to have a place to hang out between races. “You think that clunker is going to beat me?” he taunts.
“Stop being a pussy and find out.”
I can hear the challenge in his voice, but he hasn’t heard me rev my car. I put the Lamborghini in neutral and press the gas. The deep, powerful sound drowns out the noise, causing the birds to fly away from the tree line. The roads mimic a medium-sized track hidden between massive trees. There is only one way in and one way out to these roads.
I look over at him and see the unease flicker across his features. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Not even with nine hundred horses.
“Let’s go,” I yell.
He revs the GTO. It trembles like a beast waiting to feast on the open road. His back tires squeal when they kiss the pavement to get traction.
I set the launch control by pressing down to click into Corsa mode. I press the ESC off. A siren wails, and I lean my head back on the seat.
“Fuck.” I look through my rearview mirror, recognizing the police cruiser, and sure enough, it’s Officer Mays.
I shut the car off and glance at Trent. A sadistic smirk plays on his lips, and he says, “I swear this guy loves cock.”
Officer Dickhead walks between the cars, looking at me and then at Trent. “Looks like you boys were going to break the law again,” Dickhead says with a smirk, the glare from the setting sun causing me to squint.
“You know stalking is illegal,” I tell him.
“I’m on duty,” he points out, straightening his shoulders with an air of authority.
I play dumb, looking around. “I don’t see how we are breaking the law.”
He points down the track. “You were about to race.”
“No, we weren’t,” Trent says after he shuts off his car.
Dickhead stares straight ahead like he is trying to read a sign. “You know, Keller, I’m surprised you hang out with the commoners.”
“Hey,” Trent sneers, his body halfway out, peering over the roof of his car, “who the fuck are you calling a commoner, pig? Why don’t you get your broke ass to the station and get off my dick.”
“Not my style, Trent,” he replies. “I don’t answer to trust fund pricks like you.”
“Jealous?” Trent says with a menacing smile.
“My personal business is not your concern, Keller,” Officer Dickhead says.
“Ah, I don’t buy that. A good-looking guy like you?” My hand, itching to punch him in the face. “I’m sure you’re answering calls all over town.” I get out, shut the door, and lean on my car, looking for a crack in his demeanor. I don’t buy the good cop bullshit.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he sneers.
“Don’t worry. Sooner or later, everything comes to light,” I say darkly.
“Don’t I know it? Isn’t that right, Trent?” he says, looking directly at me and making my blood boil.
“What’s that?” Trent says, acting like he didn’t hear.
Dickhead walks idly toward the back of my car, staring at the mufflers, and says, “Doesn’t everything come to light in this town?”
Trent drums his fingers over the roof of his car with a challenge in his gaze aimed right at Dickhead. “You want to hear a story, Mays?”
“Go ahead,” Dickhead says.
“When I was a kid, my father told me I could be anything I wanted. I said I wanted to be a cop or a fireman. This was before I was into cars. I wanted to help people. They kept putting posters up at school, telling people to give back to the community. How important it was not to break the law. One day, I told my father I wanted to be a cop when I grew up. He laughed at me. I asked him what was so funny. He said he would rather me be a thief than a police officer. I was initially confused and asked him why. He said there was no point in being a police officer when I had money.”
“I’m missing the point,” Mays says.
“There is no difference. A thief. A cop. It’s all the same. They both fuck people for money.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, Trent?”
He’s trying to say his silence can be bought… or it has been bought.
“Not at all. Are you trying to bust me for something, Officer? Are you trying to fuck me for money?” Trent says scornfully.
Dickhead gives me a bewildered little smile. “That depends. I could give you boys a citation for an improper start. See how you get off on that and have these cars impounded for being illegally modified.”
I suck my teeth. “That’s all you got? Seems to me this is about something else.”
I’m not sure what his deal is with Trent. It could be that Trent is an asshole with money who gets away with shit because of who his father is, but with me, it’s personal. This is about Dulce. What gets me is how he knew how I felt about her. He was hired about the same time I left town, and the first time I saw him was when he pulled me over as soon as I passed the welcome sign. Something doesn’t add up. It looks like he was waiting for me to come back. Like he was expecting me.
“What do you think, Keller?” Dickhead asks like he cares what I think.
I cross my arms. “I’m with Trent on this one. I think you fuck people for money.”
“No, I think you’re worried I’m going to get in the way of whatever the fuck brought you back or, better yet, who.”
My leg shakes, trying to calm the urge to beat the shit out of him.
“There is no law against that,” I point out.
“No, there isn’t, but I don’t trust you, Keller. I can honestly admit that I don’t like you.”
I chuckle sarcastically. “You could have fooled me.”
“I can see right through your pretty boy smile. You think you’re hot shit. All of you. That friend of yours—Chris, is it? He’s a real piece of work,” Dickhead says, placing his glasses on top of his head.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” I tell him. “I just came back into town.”
He looks at Trent. “What’s your business here?”
Trent glances at me.
“Cars,” I lie.
“I think you’re lying, Keller.”
“That’s a strong statement, Mays,” Trent says. “That type of statement can get you in trouble. A cop targeting a celebrity. You know that won’t fly in this town.”
“Last I heard, he isn’t the mayor’s favorite.” I can see the gleam in his eye when he continues, “Both of you, but especially you, Keller…” He pauses. “Weren’t you fucking his daughter?”
“I would be careful what you say next,” Trent says, shutting the driver’s side door.
“Or what? Are you threatening a police officer?” he warns, placing his hand on his gun.
Trent walks around, leans on the back of his car, and crosses his arms. “No, but our families will. When they hear you’re spreading things about people way above your pay grade. You can give us all the tickets you want. They will just get thrown out of court.”
“Because you have money?” Dickhead sneers, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a disdainful smirk.
“That’s right. Keep that in mind when you take out your notepad. Now go do some police work and leave the rich folks to play with their toys.”
“Alright,” Dickhead says a little too quickly. He starts to leave and comes back. “You know, you should really check on your friend Chris. He really looks like he’s going off the deep end.”
“He’s a big boy,” Trent says, making me frown.
I haven’t gone to visit Chris yet. My cars were supposed to be delivered on Monday but arrived today before the weekend. Why would Mays say that? Why would he bring up Chris? Something is not adding up.
“I think he should slow down.” Dickhead glances at me in warning. “He parties too much. Noise complaints. Rowdy behavior.”
“Ah, come on,” Trent says with a smile like they’re old friends. “You act like you are so much older than us. Like you didn’t have fun. What are you, twenty-six?”
“Twenty-eight,” he replies.
“You’re not that old,” I point out.
“Old enough,” Dickhead counters.
“Trying to settle down?” Trent asks, his grin widening like he gives a shit.
Mays smiles disarmingly and looks at me. “That’s the plan.”
Trent gives a short, derisive laugh. “Last I heard, you were dating that girl—” He snaps his fingers like he can’t remember her name, then raises his dark eyes to Mays. “Oh, yeah. Roxie. That was her name.”
I watch the color drain from Mays’s face. I guess someone needed their cock polished while he was being there for Dulce.
“See, Officer, I guess we all have secrets,” I say with a menacing smile.
Dickhead plays it off and checks his watch like he’s late for an appointment. “I gotta go,” he says.
“Hot date?” Trent says sharply.
Mays opens the door to his cruiser, looks at me directly, and says a little too easily, “It’s Friday night. You guys, be careful and stay out of trouble.” The way he looks at me before he gets in his cruiser causes something to sicken my gut and puts a sour taste in the back of my throat.
“Why do you think he backed off and left suddenly?” I ask Trent, watching the cloud of dust from the police car’s back tires as he drives off.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t trust that son of a bitch.”
Trent laughs. “That’s because you know he wants to fuck Dulce. He’s all over your ass because you’re a threat.”
“She turned me down,” I admit.
“You asked her out?”
“Yep.”
He burst out laughing.
“Dulce Webster turned down the great Ford Keller. This…” He holds his fingers toward a mock gesture like he is taking a picture. “Is a picture worth having. It should go down in history.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
He drops his hands. “What are you going to do? Go to Mick’s bar and drown your sorrows in some pussy?”
“No, asshole. I’m going to keep asking until she gives me a chance.”
I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. Something that almost seems like…fear? What does he have to be scared of?
He looks away, but I catch the same look before he slides into his car and fires it up.
After he drives off, I sit in mine, idling. The race is forgotten. Something happened after I left. Something I missed.
I should’ve never let her leave my car without telling her. I could have told her how I felt and what my plans were. She wouldn’t have left because of her grandmother, but we could have had something. I could have had something to live for, waiting at the finish line. If I could go back and change that moment, I would.
I called the number she gave me that day, but it was disconnected, or maybe she changed it. Either way, I wasn’t supposed to call. That was the point of me leaving.
I press the call button on the steering wheel. “Call Derek,” I say to the Bluetooth.
The phone rings for a few seconds. “What’s up? Everything good with the delivery?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not calling about that. I need a favor.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you still have that contact at Tiffany and Co?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to get me something and deliver it to this address.”
“You’re not going soft on me, are you?”
“I sent you the picture of what I need.”
“Fine, when do you need it by?”
“As soon as possible.”