25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
I t’s been a week since I met with TW Motorsports, but I’m not feeling any less shitty for deciding to leave S there is no way I would be able to hold him down on my own.
“Shelby, what the fuck are you doing? Get out of here, sweet thing. I don’t want you anywhere near this,” Wyatt says, picking himself up from the floor where Baldy had pushed him before I could get to them. He wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and straightens his glasses on his nose.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask in exasperation. The least he could do is kick this dude and make him stop fighting us.
“You better get the fuck off me right now, girlie, before I decide to hurt you, too. ”
“Shelby, let him up,” Henry says, already pulling the man up by his arm.
These guys are ungrateful. I exhale in a huff and let the man up, but not before digging my knee deeper into his spine. Once he’s standing, Henry reaches back and punches the man in the mouth, much like he just did to Wyatt.
“That’s for threatening my sister, asshole.” Henry flexes his hand and rubs his knuckles, but uses his height advantage and the fact that there are three of us against him to keep the man from retaliating.
The man massages his jaw and rotates his head side to side, cracking his neck. “That’s your one cheap shot, asshole. I see you again, we got problems.” He turns away from Henry and focuses his attention back on Wyatt. “You won’t be so lucky next time, Parker. You better have the money. I’ll make sure you won’t have your wonder twins around to help you.”
Wyatt stares silently at the man as blood pools on his cut lip. He gives a tight head nod of acknowledgement, and the man turns and heads down the hall away from us.
I grab Wyatt’s arm and drag him into my room, pushing him down onto the bed, and run into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. I come back to find Henry leaning against the wall as Wyatt stares down at his hands. I kneel in front of him and get him to meet my eyes quickly as I gently press the cloth to his mouth. His eyes close tightly as he grimaces, but doesn’t pull away.
“What’s going on?” I ask, using my other hand to cradle his jaw and force him to meet my eyes again. “Who was that? ”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about, sweetness. But thank you for stepping in. Just don’t ever do it again, okay? I would hate myself forever if you got hurt because of me.”
Wyatt’s voice is deep from strain and his face creased in worry. My mouth opens to retort, about ready to tell him I am the only one who gets to decide just when and how I intervene on behalf of my friends, when Henry cuts me off.
“That was Mike Alves, bro. I know what’s going on. You’re in some deep shit if he’s here for you.”
I look up at Henry quickly and frown. He shakes his head at me and tilts his chin at Wyatt.
“Who is Mike Alves?” I ask, turning back to Wyatt. He takes the cloth from my hand and straightens up a bit. I lean back on my heels in front of him, waiting on his answer.
“He’s nothing for you to worry about. I got this.”
“He’s a bad dude, and you should never get mixed up with him. He was big in the street racing community here in the Bay Area before you got into it, and now whenever he shows up, it’s not to race, but to collect money. He provides muscle for hire. If he’s messing with Wyatt now, it means your friend owes a lot of money to the wrong people, and they want it pretty bad.” My head swivels from Henry to Wyatt, who can’t meet my eyes.
“Is that true?”
Wyatt nods slightly. “It’s not that bad, I just have a little debt I have to answer for. I kind of bet on a few ADL competitions, and they haven’t turned out the way I thought they would.”
“What kind of bets were you making to have some crazy dude coming to beat you up?” I lean toward Wyatt, forcing him to answer me with the closeness of my presence alone .
He sighs deeply and looks troubled. When his sky blue eyes finally meet mine, there’s so much shame and pain that I feel compelled to pull him into my arms and crush him in a hug. He tentatively puts his arms around me and dips his head to my shoulder.
“I fucked up, sweet thing. I’m in trouble. I’m out twenty grand on some bets that went south.” His voice cracks painfully as the truth comes out.
I pull away from Wyatt and just barely refrain from shaking him by the shoulders. Trouble to Wyatt means twenty thousand dollars? I’d say that sounds like student loan debt, but the collection can’t be deferred and the sharks who come to get it want blood.
“What were you thinking?” I ask.
I get off my knees and sit beside Wyatt, who is now holding his head in his hands. I look up and plead with Henry silently, but he shrugs his shoulders and turns to sit in the desk chair.
“I thought after last week that Griff would get another overall win today. And maybe I had some bad luck for the last few races, too. It wasn’t supposed to get out of hand like this. A few grand here and there after winning some and then bam! I get my ass handed to me when the top four keep changing. I studied the drivers, the cars, the courses. I thought I knew what to expect.”
“You can’t predict winners based on past experiences, man. Every race is different. Each car can have gains and losses, the tracks provide different results. The drivers themselves can have off days, break a part or miss a shift, or come up against someone or some scenario that doesn’t work in their favor. That was so stupid!” I grab my head and squeeze, my heart racing with anxiety for him. “What are you going to do now? Do you have twenty grand lying around to pay off these bets?”
“Easy, Shell,” Henry says as I start to get worked up and Wyatt begins to close off from me.
“I don’t know. I don’t have the money. I was trying to win some of my losses back after the first couple of competitions. It just kept snowballing, and now I’m getting hunted down by Big Mike and his fists fucking hurt.” Wyatt pulls his hand across his face, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes.
“We have to tell Paul. He’ll know what to do. Maybe he can give you a loan or something,” I offer, reaching for my phone.
“You can’t tell Paul,” he says, instantly grabbing my wrist and pleading with wide eyes. “He’s already so over my shit and will see me as a liability now that we finally have sponsors on board. He doesn’t have the kind of money to help me out with this, anyway. He’s aware of...my gambling, and has told me that he won’t stand for recklessness in any manner from the team. You saw how close he was to letting Griffin go just because he couldn’t get along with you. He’s not above tough love, and would see keeping me on the team as enabling me.”
Every instance Wyatt has cavalierly bet about something rolls through my brain like a movie reel. The first night we met he was betting that I would out drift Griffin, without even knowing me. So many times he has bet five, ten, twenty bucks on something. I always thought he was using it as a figure of speech, not that anyone was taking his glib words seriously and taking the bet. It’s like his mouth would make a bet before his brain could figure out if it was a good idea. Obviously, someone took advantage of Wyatt’s habitual gambling, and now the ramifications are catching up with him .
I drop my head into my hands and think fast. I don’t know how to help him, but I know someone who might. I suck down my pride once Wyatt has gone back to his room and head into the bathroom with my cell. I pull up my texts and open a new one to Griffin. I tap my phone against my chin for a few moments, debating what to say. I doubt he wants to read anything from me.
Me: I know you hate me but please read this. Wyatt needs your help. He just got beat up at the hotel by some dude looking for money he’s lost on bad bets. I don’t know what to do. I need you...
I press send after staring at the text for a few moments in indecision. Once the text is sent, I have a mild heart attack of “OMFG, what did I just do” that has a sheen of sweat coating my skin as anxiety rides me. I wait two hours and still haven’t heard back from him. I guess he’s not reading texts from me, no matter what they say. I’ll have to figure out another way to get him to help. Maybe tomorrow I can humble myself even more and beg him in person. Maybe I can find another option before then.
I send Henry home and crawl into bed around eleven, even though I am not in the least bit ready to sleep. My brain is running a hundred miles an hour and I can’t figure out a way to help Wyatt pay for his losses. If Griffin doesn’t respond tomorrow, I have no choice but to tell Paul. We can’t have Wyatt getting beat up whenever he gets in over his head. As much as it hurts to know I would have a hand in possibly getting Wyatt kicked off the team, at least I know Paul would do everything in his power to get him help.