Chapter 9 Lewis #2
I blast off a quick message to the group chat and rub my eyes.
When I open them again, I spot my chauffeur sitting on a bench, staring into space and clutching a bottle of water, my dinner order propped up beside her.
For a second, I consider joining her. Bad idea.
I’m guessing there’s a reason why she wanted some space.
I twirl my phone around in my hand, watching her there under the streetlight.
When I first sidled up to her in the college parking lot to ask her about the Campus Drivers thing, I would never have guessed I’d end up in this total shit show with her.
I was expecting her to be basic—just another student. Boy, was I wrong.
She crumples up the plastic bottle and tosses it in the trash, and I can’t help but admire her shot. She brushes her hands down on her jeans and strides toward the car, holding out a grocery bag. I check out the goods.
“Vodka?”
“It was that or whiskey. And I hate whiskey.”
So she’s planning on drinking with me? I don’t have the balls to ask whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’m guessing I’ll find out soon enough.
When she pulls out, it suddenly dawns on me—we’re done road-tripping.
This is the part where shit gets real. To take my mind off it all, I launch into a stream of random questions about Brooklyn, and it seems like she’s in the same kind of mood, because she shoots back answers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Mind if I turn this up?” she asks, gesturing at the stereo.
“Go for it.”
A heavy bass line comes thumping through the speakers, and though I never usually like it this loud, right now it doesn’t bother me. It’s actually loosening me up.
“Here we are.”
I glance up. The landscape has shifted. We’ve left the main drag, and it’s all starting to feel Worthington-adjacent, when Amy stops for a bald guy with a tattooed head, winding down her window, sitting back as he bends down for a closer look.
“You lost, kid?”
“I’m looking for a good salon. Thought you might know of one.”
Do they know each other? Given how ripped he looks and the two heavies hovering behind him, I sure hope so. He sticks his head through the window and peers at us.
“You want in, babe? Earn it.”
He waggles his tongue at Amy. And that’s when she loses it. Gripping the guy in a headlock, she clamps her wrist down on his throat, forcing him to stoop lower, and I have no idea what the hell just happened.
“Thought I’d gone soft, Gaby?”
She pulls him deeper into the car, until his cheek is smooshed against the steering wheel.
“Worth a shot,” he growls, gasping for breath. “Who’s the guy?”
“Why?” Amy snorts. “You wanna kiss him, too?”
She shoots me a creepy look.
“I think you’re literally strangling him,” I say weakly.
“Oh!”
She lets go of him, and he staggers away from the car, spluttering.
“Nice to have you back, Hitman.” Gaby laughs. “Should keep all the little jerks in check. Want me to give ’em a heads-up?”
She shakes her head. “Let them think they’re gonna have a good night.”
“You know how to talk to me.” He turns to a guy across the street. “She’s good to go!”
Amy rolls up her window, nodding at passersby as we crawl along the road.
“Friend of yours?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can.
“Something like that.”
People are drifting by on either side of us, heading up the sidewalks in tight knots.
“What exactly is going on here?”
“Just old friends reconnecting—with a little light entertainment thrown in to keep things interesting.”
“Races, you mean. With stolen cars.”
“Never say never.”
“Just my luck.”
“Sorry.” She shrugs, and though I know she means it, something’s bugging me.
“Feels like you know your way around.”
“I don’t steal cars, if that’s what you mean,” she snaps.
“Yeah, I got that part—I meant this kind of get-together.”
“Back when I used to live here, sure. But I left all this behind me once I skipped town.”
“And why did you skip town?”
“None of your business.”
She’s a tough nut to crack. We’re not friends, so it makes sense that she’s not down for spilling. Still, though… I wish she’d give me just a little more.
“So, are the cops cool with this sort of thing, or do I need to call my dad and let him know that his only son is probably going to jail?”
“Don’t freak out! They don’t usually come up this way, and Gaby’s got backup, anyway,” she says. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. Never seen a single blue light.”
Since she was a kid? How does that even happen? I’m trying to picture a younger Amy, but I’m struggling. She’s way too much of a badass to have ever been a child.
I turn back to the window, my eyes peeled for a glimpse of the Dodge, my muscles primed to leap out of the car at the first sight of it. I’d imagined a bunch of different ways this place would feel—it’s not as shady as I’d expected, but there are way more people.
Amy clears her throat, her eyes locked on the road.
“Listen up, Conley. This is how it’s gonna go.
Once we’re out there with the others, all you need to do is remember one simple rule—you don’t exist.” She glances at me.
“You don’t speak. You don’t ask questions.
You don’t go around looking for something.
And whatever you do, you don’t stare. Nobody knows who you are—but they will know you’re with me.
You stick to that vibe, everything will be fine.
If anyone tries to talk to you, do your best to keep quiet.
The less you say, the better our chances. ”
She pauses. Then, because apparently all that wasn’t enough, adds, “And whatever I say, you just let me roll with it. You do not get involved—I mean it.”
I sigh. “Sounds intense. You want me to wear a bag over my head, too, or am I okay showing my face?”
“I considered it.”
I shoot her a look. “Why am I not sure you’re joking?”
She doesn’t reply.
Feels weird to be the passenger for once, but I have to admit—Amy’s a better driver than I ever gave her credit for. Somewhere along the way, I start to relax.
The streets fly by, the crowds thickening the deeper we go, the buzz intensifying.
When we finally stop, she twists to face me. “Don’t forget what I said, okay? If your car is here, I need to be able to count on you.” She pauses, studying me. “Can I count on you, Conley?”
I don’t love the way her question lands in my chest, but I recover fast.
“Yes, Your Honor. You can rely on me to be the perfect man-pet.”
“Amazing. Then let’s do this.”
My pulse starts to race. She tilts the rearview mirror toward her, pulls on a black beanie, and finger-combs her bangs, before dabbing on a little wine-red lipstick.
Why can’t I stop staring at her damn red lips?
“What’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly.
She frowns at me before sliding out of the car, and I take a deep breath in before stepping out behind her. I recognize this energy. It feels just like that split second before a game I know will be tough.
“So, w—”
“Hitman!”
I whip around. A mountain of a man is shoving his way through the crowd, zeroing in on Amy.
“Rolly!” She stretches out a fist. “Looking good, buddy.”
“Good to see you again! You’re way paler than when I last saw you. Doesn’t look like Ohio’s treating you too good.”
Rolly’s eyes slide over to me, and when he tosses me a “hey,” I put Amy’s wisdom into practice, grunting in response. I’m pretty sure I just saw her stifle a smirk.
“Rachel here?”
He shakes his head. “She stayed home. She’s about to pop any day now.”
“Oh my God, congrats!” Amy gasps. “I had no idea! Bet she’s pissed she can’t join us.”
“She’s a monster right now.” He raises his eyebrows at Amy. “You just here for kicks?”
She smiles. “I was in the area—thought I’d swing by. I need to hit the road, but hug Rachel for me, and good luck with it all. Babies are intense.”
“Nice catching up with you. I’d tell you to say hi to your sis from me, but she hates me, so…”
“I’m gonna tell her anyway. Just to piss her off.”
We start to walk, Amy returning quick waves as we go, the music growing louder the closer we get to the prime spot.
“How come everyone’s treating you like royalty?” I ask.
“I grew up here.”
“Were you in a gang, or something?”
She stops in her tracks.
“Yeah,” she says, looking me dead in the eye. “The Raccoons. We killed, you know, raccoons and pinned their tails to our foreheads. So, now you know I’ve got a past, shut the hell up, keep your eyes open, and get ready for kickoff.”
I can’t help but laugh, and I catch the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
We step into the throng, me shadowing her, feeling every bit the impostor I am, though I know I can pull this off. I’m in a pissy mood, which is probably helping my game face.
When a group of girls call out to Amy, I turn, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that these are hustlers. Once they’re done flapping over Queen Amy’s great homecoming, they float off into the night, and I elbow her in the side.
“So, you whore me out to Gaby but you keep me on a leash around those girls? Disgrace, dude!”
“All those girls have sucked Gaby off at least twice. You sure you’re interested?” She cocks an eyebrow at me. “I mean, just say the word…”
“Eww.”
“You’re welcome, Lewis.”
I shift on my feet. “We’ve been walking around for ages. Now what?”
She fiddles with her beanie, scanning the crowd. “Now… we dance.”
I nearly choke on my spit, and, following her gaze, I realize with horror that she didn’t mean that figuratively at all. Around us, people are chilling—swigging beer and moving to the beat in twos and threes. Slowly, she starts to sway in front of me.
I frown. “Is this part of the master plan?”
“No,” she says lightly. “It’s just that ever since I first met you, I’ve been dying to twerk for you. The time just feels right. Now, start shaking your ass—and shake it like you mean it, Conley.”