17. Audrey #2
“Send her down the right into Delancey. I’ll take on her underneath the bridge. We’re going back into the city.”
I speed there myself, drift around the corner, into Delancey Street; there I block the one-way, and wait. Waiting, being still, feels fundamentally wrong, and my body wants to move. It takes all my control.
Then Cass drifts around the corner.
Our eyes meet for one sec.
And then she is gone underneath the bridge and takes the lane on the opposite side of the bridge.
I speed the Mustang in reverse gear down the one-way.
Three of the tail she brought follow me, two her.
I slap the intercom. We’re driving on both sides of the bridge, and I can see her between the beams and parked construction vehicles.
“Cass,” I say, “Let them come close; keep the speed, not faster. I’ll drift in between you and the tail as we did it in our first race. Keep your speed, stay on the right; I need some space to get her around. Whatever happens, do not break.”
“You won’t make that,” she says. “That crossing is too tight.”
“Cass,” I say. “Shut up and do what I tell you.”
And for once in her life, she does what I tell her.
I can see her pulling to the right.
The cops following her are at roughly four car lengths distance.
It will be a fucking close call, but I am pumped enough with adrenaline right now to give it my best try.
I rip the wheel around; the Mustang breaks loose with its front. I use its horsepower to spin it 180 degrees as I cross under the bridge sideways with my chest compressing from the forceful movement.
Its ass swirls onto the road Cass is on; I almost hit her.
There is no thought or feeling left in me, except for focus. I pull the Mustang straight, and the moment I catch her, I press the red NOS button at the exact moment where the cops following her crash into the ones following me.
“You are completely insane,” she says in a tone of complete disbelief.
“I have been told, yes,” I say as more adrenaline flushes my system and my hands get sweaty. Luckily, I am still wearing the gloves from the climb; otherwise, it would be hard to steer.
I fucking pulled that off, I realize in my mind.
A laugh escapes me because I can’t believe it's actually worse.
“Let’s get lost; you’ll follow my lead this time,” I tell Cass.
“No, I won’t,” she says, and I’m close to losing my mind. “We’ll have to disappear. And I know where.”
I roll my eyes, but follow her.
She leads me to Harlem. There, she turns into a warehouse block and speeds into a massive brick wall warehouse through a rolling gate that closes behind us.
We come to a halt in the empty hall.
I breathe in and out for a second before I pull off the mask.
Holy shit.
Goosebumps appear on my arms.
We fucking did it. We got out. It was so fucking close because of her fucking stubbornness.
I am relieved we made it, but I am so fucking mad at her. Mad for her solo, mad for trying to make it about her, mad about her territorial peeing.
I am so mad at her that I jump out of the car and attack her.
Maybe I have lost my mind, maybe it’s the pumped-up adrenaline body, maybe it’s just her.
“You are such a territorial dumbfucker!” I shout at her as I push her back. She’s at my throat immediately.
“ME? You and your need to prove to everyone how wonderful you are—“
“I SAVED YOUR FUCKING ASS!!!” I roar so aggressively that spit flies from my mouth. I don’t know why and how, but she makes me aggressive on a level I can’t deal with.
“You meddled in my shit, and now we are stuck here because they shut the shit city down!!!!”
She pushes me back.
“They would have busted you five blocks further!”
“I would’ve been long gone if not for your fucking stunt,” she says, pressing her body into me and not backing off from my aggressiveness.
I purse my lips, close to saying a thing I will never unsay, and then I stop myself. Instead, my voice gets silent and dark.
“You are just too proud to acknowledge you need me.”
Whack.
She hits me full on in the temple.
I retaliate, and we get into a fight.
She hits me so hard once I sway slightly—I try to kick her in retaliation, but she grasps my leg and pulls me off balance.
I land on the dusty ground.
Spin round.
She jumps onto me, like a rider, and hits me again.
“You—“
Whack.
“Fuckin—“
Whack.
“Elitist—“
Whack.
But all I feel is her sitting on me.
Her ass pressing onto my lap.
My lips part.
I don’t fight her anymore, because the sensation in me freezes me. Those eyes with all the anger in them that glare at me—
“Fight!” she shouts.
But I can’t. Or rather, I don’t want to, because there is only that heated sensation spreading through me.
Whack.
She strikes me again so hard my face falls to the side.
A grin appears on my face as I bite my bottom lip and I just react.
I sit up, grasp her face—my lips land on hers, fired by the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Right now, there is nothing awkward about it anymore.
There is just this heat.
This desire.
Her hands grasp me.
Pulls me close.
My shirt falls to the ground.
She massages my breast.
I gasp.
And suddenly my mind turns off.
I kiss her neck.
She moans—a sound that shivers through my body.
She rolls her hips against mine.
I grasp around her ass, trail to the front under her hoodie, to her breasts—
Suddenly, she freezes.
I stop.
She lets go of me like electrocuted and hops off me, getting up with her hands stretched out in protection.
“What’s up?” I ask her as I grab my shirt, pull it back on, and get up too.
She shakes her head.
“I—“ she begins, stops. Shakes her head again, turns, and walks away.
“Stop!” I shout after her, but she doesn’t stop. The professional walk-awayer she labeled herself in action.
“Cass! You can’t walk away from this!” I shout. “You can’t walk away from what is real.”
But apparently, she can, because she walks without one glance back, leaving me standing between our cars in this empty warehouse.
I stare into the empty warehouse long after she is gone.
“Guys, it’s hitting the media,” says Jackson suddenly in my ear, and my soul almost leaves my body. I have completely forgotten the intercom was still on.
I dig my face into my hand, then I have to laugh because they have all listened to our little dispute without so much as a word. Cass will be as mad as she can be, and that thought brings me immense joy right now; it’s like getting back to her
I get out my phone to check what’s going on online.
Every major news outlet has it on.
“That’s fucking epic,” I say as I read the headlines and see the photo of our banners everywhere.
Activists attack Whitney-Morgan Bank
Banner on Whitney-Morgan Bank leads to website with insider information of Bank’s violations
Whitney-Morgan accused of Embezzlement, Insider Trading, and using loans for illegal actions
My phone rings.
“It’s happening,” I say with a wide grin as I see the number of the Bank’s chairman on my display. “Let the games begin.”