4. Something Borrowed #2
A night out drinking and being able to sleep in sounded like a plan I would miss my baby terribly, though, but I needed the rest.
“I’ll see Mrs. Jean.”
She shooed me to the exit and I laughed the whole way.
“Too bad, we’re not answering. Save a life and then go win that prize money. I want a coach bag for my birthday, and I'd like you and Canada to go half on it. I saw it on TikTok.”
“I’ll get you the bag and the wallet even if I don’t win. Find something else for Canada to buy.”
“Same thing but in another color. I’m a simple old lady.”
Before I could get out the door completely, I ran back past Mrs. Jean to kiss my baby again, then headed off to work.
Today was originally my day off since I had the race, but I’d been called in for an emergency surgery.
I didn’t want to say no, even though I couldn’t stand the surgical team, but I loved the work.
I loved my job and the patients, but the staff was terrible.
Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and technically, I was employed under false pretenses, which was a federal offense and could cost me my license.
The county hospital was so busy that they had never even asked for a license.
I had the skills, and that was all that mattered.
Joining the Hellcat Barbies was a completely random occurrence.
I’d been in town for a month and was still waiting to hear back from the county.
Canada and I were at the local fair when I was approached by Aubree, a pretty and paid YouTuber, who drove a purple car nearly identical to mine.
She saw my car and invited me to join the crew.
When they explained that I could get paid for racing, I was all ears.
Street racing was illegal and something I’d never done before, but I was spending money and hadn’t been making any.
I figured it couldn’t be hard since we wore helmets and the car was already fast. What I saw as a way to make quick money turned into one of the highlights of my life.
I loved what the Hellcat Barbies represented and thought a group of women with nice cars racing and giving back was cool, so I decided to join.
I lost my first few races, but by the third race, and after taking some advice from the ladies, I came out a winner and earned an extra five thousand dollars.
We mostly raced men who loved to see us coming but hated to see the tailpipes of our cars when we left them in the dust. I’d won more races than I’d lost and was having a great time doing it.
When I found out I was pregnant, it was two days before a race, and I was devastated that I had to cancel.
By then, I had been working for a few months, but I had grown accustomed to the extra money and the rush I got from being on the track.
Hell, we’d even raced on the streets. The ladies had been supportive and excited when I revealed my pregnancy and even threw me a baby shower at Aubree’s house. They were truly a Godsend.
I had limited time with my work schedule and growing belly, but I made time for the Hellcat Barbies.
Canada didn’t have a Hellcat, but she was cool with one of the girls and was always with us.
Hence, the reason she was pressing me about the race.
It was my first one post-baby and the pot was large.
She’d lose her shit if she found out I was going into work, especially since she knew how easily surgery could run over, but the doctor assured me that I would only be needed for four hours, and this particular doctor I somewhat respected.
I’d never been a racer, but that money turned my ass into a speed demon.
My 'why the hell not' had become a semi-addiction and a form of therapy all in one. It brought me peace and more cash to stack, and my baby and I could use every bit we got. Plus, the car was already fast; there had been plenty of times when I had to watch myself so I wouldn’t get pulled over.
Barely tap the gas, and the car would fly down the road.
Pulling up at the hospital, I said a prayer, kissed my phone's screen because my baby's one-day-old picture was there, and then went into Orange County Medical to start my shift. As soon as I clocked out, I was in Hellcat Barbie mode.
“That’s my biihhhtch! I told you you’d win!”
Canada smiled as she took my picture. Grabbing my necklace, I rubbed it across my lips before tucking it back in my shirt.
I was a few thousand dollars richer and had a trophy to go with it.
Today, I was racing a girl who was part of a Mustang car club.
She was the first person I’d raced, and she had beaten me badly.
When I pulled up and saw that she and I would be in a rematch, I just knew it was over.
Racing her hadn’t been hard; it was actually easy because she focused so much on trying to race dirty that I out-drove her.
She thought she was going to get to me, but all she did was make me concentrate harder and pump my adrenaline to the max.
I’d practiced, I’d raced, but I’d never gone as fast as I had just a moment ago.
“Do another pose! What the-”
Someone blocked my view, being rude as hell and interrupting my pictures.
My day had been good. I’d gotten off before noon like the doctor promised and had now won my race.
I wasn't up for anyone screwing up my day and was about to tell the person to get on when my body suddenly tensed up like I had Tourette's.
The blood began to pound in my temples, my mouth went dry, and the trophy I’d been hiding fell to the ground with a clank.
Anxiety surged through me, but my vagina wasn’t on the same page with the rest of my body.
She was drenched, as if she weren’t still a little sore from childbirth that happened over ninety days ago.
He was still fine. Still with that golden hair, still cut up, but this time he wasn’t in slacks and basketball shorts.
He was dressed entirely in Rick Owens, and his jewelry was replaced with pieces that were even more expensive than the last one.
“Ima ask you a question and you bet not tell me no.”
His look was menacing, and his stance threatening.
One year ago, his demand that I not tell him no was the reason I hadn’t left the bar after selling him the ring and why I ended my day in bed with him, all the while receiving a parting gift: our child.
Our child, which he couldn’t deny even with Stevie Wonder’s eyes, so I blinked, bracing myself for the question I knew he was about to ask.
He’d seen the sticker. How could he not?
It was as big as day on my car and one I’d forgotten to remove before the race.
The gun in his hand couldn’t be missed, and even though the thought of a man approaching me with a gun over the past 12 months frightened me, I wasn’t afraid of the weapon at all.
Maybe because he was carrying it, or perhaps because I was still in a haze from not only the race but from seeing him.
He wouldn’t hurt me. I knew it. I felt it.
“Did you have my fucking baby?”
“Oh shit,” I heard Canada groan behind me.
My throat felt like it was about to close as he looked down at me with those dark eyes that had a golden sparkle.
They shone even brighter in the sun. My baby, like everything else on Yak, had inherited those eyes, too.
My child was a mirror image of the man in front of me, with none of my features in sight.
A crowd was starting to gather, and even though these women had become my family, there were also strangers present since it was a public event.
Running my hand through my hair, which had grown even longer and fuller because of the prenatal vitamins I was still taking—since they worked wonders for my milk supply—I shot Canada a look.
She was asking me if I was good with my eyes, and I nodded in response.
I appreciated the fact that she had my back but also didn’t interfere.
I’d been the one to do Yak wrong. Not only had I stolen his car, but I’d also stolen the ring back that I sold to him.
Hell, I’d also stolen his sperm too, even though I didn’t remember the sex but very well remembered how every hole in my body was aching.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Get in the car.”
“Yak-”
“Get in the fucking car, Saskia!” he boomed.
“Now hold up now,” Canada spoke up.
“Nah, ain’t no hold up. Let my nephew handle his baby mama how he see fit.”
A man resembling many of Yak’s features appeared in the crowd, with his eyes fixed on Canada.
My friend was tough as hell. Honestly, all of my friends were.
There had been plenty of outings where we had to check a bitch or a nigga.
They had definitely aided in toughening my skin.
Canada’s bronze skin had darkened a bit in the sun, and I preferred it at this hue.
She did too, since she hadn’t needed to self-tan during the hot months.
She was wearing denim Amiri shorts with a graphic tee tied under her bust, revealing her toned belly.
On her feet were a pair of Amiri shoes that matched her graphic tee.
Her hair was braided into a knotless boho bob, which I also loved.
She looked like a bad bitch to the untrained eye, but deep down, she was a pitbull.
“Who the fuck are you?” She frowned at the guy.
“Could be your ticket out of this town. You gone be lonely as fuck when my nephew bring your girl down south. You ain’t gotta miss out though. I can change ya life too, baby.”
She drew her head back, clearly not feeling his weak ass game or impressed by his flashy stature or good looks.
“With that big ass ring on your finger, it ain’t shit you can do for me but kiss my ass.”
“And that’s exactly what I'm tryna do, baby. Fuck wit ya boy.”
“Saskia.” Yak broke the gaze I had on my friend.