Side Show: Lust & Chrome duet
Page 1
SIDE SHOW
Gigi Birtie
Contents
FROM THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Acknowledgments
Copyright ©️ Gigi Birtie
All rights reserved.
Edited by Andrea Clark
Cover design by Maria/steamydesign.com
Interior Formatting by Maria/steamydesigns.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at www.GigiBirtie.com
Dedicated to my Grandma G and my Grandma C who read me romance novels as bedtime stories and always encouraged my reading and writing addictions. I miss them dearly! Also to Stephanie just because I can and because you too have been a driving force in this adventure!!
FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Kick Ass Readers,
It had come to my attention by my amazing editor that possibly there might be a few things that you may not know about when reading my book. Not all people are into the classic car culture or motorcycle culture and that’s okay! I just want you in the know when you come across a few things. Don’t worry it’s just a few.
So, in reference of having a car bagged or also known as air bagged that means that there are air bags are hooked up to the suspension of the car. It allows the whole car to raise and lower. Giving it a different stance, most car enthusiasts do like to do this their cars. Also, hydraulics do that as well, but it is not as smooth and those are used more in lowrider competitions of how high can you make your classic car bounce from the front end. Usually not wireless so it has to be controlled from the door.
Also racing for pinks is not racing for Pink’s hot dogs lol but for pink slips. If you race for pinks it means you’re putting up your car as the bet. When most cars are over 30,000 to a cool million it’s a big deal. Of course, there is always some jalopy looking car that can fool you from the outside but under the hood could be a big deal with a high-end engine or just everything new under the hood to a new chassis, which believe me those things get costly fast!!
Now if I missed anything else please feel free to contact me and I would be more than happy to get you in the know!! My everyday is photographing and writing about classic cars for many major publications so I do know a thing or two. Also, if I don’t know I will easily find out!!
Thank you so much and enjoy Side Show!!!
Xoxo
Gigi Birtie
Chapter 1
The smell of burnt rubber fills the air along with thick clouds of smoke. People are spread out in a large circle blocking all traffic with their cars while they stand beside them yelling and screaming for more. I can't resist giving them what they showed up for. I can't just drive away without spinning a few more brodies in this impromptu daytime side show. There's just something about leaving my mark on the city streets that gives me satisfaction unlike anything else. With my tally of hundreds of round brownies that I've left all over the Bay Area, it's almost like leaving gritty city art work behind for many to love or hate.
Seeing the time on my dash I realized I need to get out of here before OPD shows up and causes me to be late. I have a meeting with a family friend about hanging some of my photography in his coffee shop. I need my work to be seen more, even if people don't take the time to really look at my photos.
With one last go around I see a gap to leave and hightail it out of there, leaving everyone in my dense cloud of smoke. I have twenty minutes to get to my meeting, so I use this time to reflect on how things have been going while being stuck in traffic.
My senior year in high school is only a few months in and sadly, this hasn't been my year to find love or even a hot one-night stand. It was looking like me, Sloane Nova Cates, was still going to have my boyfriend, the Je Joue rabbit vibrator for just a bit longer.
It's not like I'm an ugly girl. Matter of fact, I was probably one of the better-looking broads in the whole Bay Area. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. This isn't some small town in the middle of nowhere, no this was a heavily populated area where beautiful women were everywhere. Even with having long, light caramel brown hair with strands of blond naturally highlighted as though it's been kissed by the California sun, bright electric blue eyes, full pink lips, and a fit yet curvy figure that I know most men and some women would drop to their knees to worship every inch of me, yet it still didn't make me stand out amongst the all the gorgeous women that saturated the Bay.
I thought this year could possibly be different, with my very serious and menacing brother off at college. Somehow the touch my sister and I'll kill you threat was still strongly in effect. It was well known and reiterated on almost a daily basis. Of course, my pops didn't seem to mind. He backed my brother on his overly crazy stance of me not having a dating life. What father wouldn't want that for their daughter?
Sadly, this over the top cock blocking happened after the incident with Taze, my first boyfriend freshman year. My brother made sure no one would ever touch me after that debacle. It never got out what did go down, but it was one of the most terrifying events in my life. So, terrifying that to this day, I still wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare, fearing Taze will come sniffing back around to cause more trouble and follow through with his threats.
Even though my over protective brother, Reese, killed my dating life, I was appreciative for his protection and keeping me safe the way he had.
Reese is easy to be afraid of. He is tall with strikingly beautiful, yet hard features. He has such lustrous brown hair and these chocolate brown eyes that could just pierce you on the spot. Of course, his athletic body of rock hard muscles are what most guys fear and many girls go crazy for.
I had one friend who dated him for a week. She said it was his charming wit that drew her in, but I rolled my eyes at that. I was sure they weren’t having any in-depth conversations while he fucked her in the boy’s bathroom at school, but who knows. In any case though, he had the “it” factor going for him.
Even though Reese was at college playing football, he was still here in the Bay Area, but living at the dorms this year and damn it if I didn't see him everywhere.
As if Reese was listening to my thoughts, his name pops up on the screen on my dash since my phone is connected through Bluetooth. This maybe an old classic car but there are some touches of modern technology throughout.
“Hey, what's up Reese?”
“What the fuck, Sloane?”
“Reese what's your malfunction today?” I ask with a jokingly tone to keep this conversation light.
“I just saw that stupid show you were giving up on the hill! How many times have I told you doing side shows are dangerous and extremely stupid.”
Busted!
There's such a huge debate on these side shows. Now the ones I have attend aren't as crazy as some that I've have heard about. I personally just love seeing what my car can do, not causing problems or disrespecting anyone, but all side shows are clumped into one hot mess and there is no avoiding the lectures no matter how you try to spin it.
“I know Reese, you don't like them, so why do you keep going to them?” I laugh to myself on this, because it is a known fact that Reese and some of his buddies, when not at football practice, they'll go and try to find the action.
“I wasn't looking for a show, I was leaving our house, when I saw you acting the fool.”
“I was just having some fun and checking my suspension.”
“Bullshit, Sloane. When are you going to grow up already? I'm tired of always having to look out for you.”
My heart sank hearing Reese so frustrated, my cheeks warm, and tears fill my eyes. He is always the last person I want to let down or cause any frustrations to.
“I'll try not to worry you anymore Reese, but maybe you can let me make my own mistakes in life along with finding love and heartache for once.. It's okay to take a step back you did a great job in raising me.” I can say I'll try to make smarter choices in life, but that's going to be easier said than done.
I hear him grunt over my speakers.
“You're right Sloane, we’ve both need to lighten up. I'll ease up a bit. It's time right?” It’s time I said in my head as soon as I heard the words I've been waiting to hear for years now. “Well good luck with Mr. Cutter, tell him I said hey and that I’ll see him at next week’s game. Are you still planning on coming too?”
“Hell yeah, I'll be there! Okay, I'm here at The Pit so check ya later Reese.”
This is the most progress I've ever had with my overbearing brother! All the times when Reese found some guy talking to me, they were instantly uncomfortable upon seeing my brother. The end result was always the same. No matter who it was, they would flee the scene and never look back.
It's not like we don't have parents. Our father is a good man, but he is a workaholic. With him being gone weeks on end, it left Reese and me, to raise each other. It wasn't easy growing up with our mother already remarried and living her life without us. All we wanted, as kids, was for one of our parents to step forward, so we could just be kids. The love was there, but we rarely talked, except for my brother and me. That was an everyday occurrence.
As I walk in, I go straight back to the office and step right in taking a seat across from my father’s best friend.
Mr. Cutter is the owner of the local coffee shop in town called The Java Pit. He is well-known for being very generous and has a laid-back lifestyle. You would never know he’s a multi-millionaire or a man of responsibility. He owns over seven varying businesses in the Bay Area alone. One more successful than the next. Looking at him you'd feel like he emulated Tom Selleck’s style from Magnum PI, the only thing missing was the signature mustache.
“Sloane, I won't dispute your photography is more than stunning to grace our walls here at The Pit, maybe even at some of my other shops, but I was wondering if I can't interest you in working here part-time as well? I can work with your school schedule. I'm desperate.” Mr. Cutter says starting right off with what he wants.
I sat there a bit stunned. However, the more I thought about it the more it made sense. Film was expensive, and so were parts and tires for my car, the way I went through them. I didn't like asking my father for the money to get what I needed. I had that independent woman attitude going on most days. I decided that even though I didn't need a job, it would be nice to have one, to help pass the time until I go off to college myself. With Reese off at college and having the house to myself, I had to admit; I was bored.
“Alright Mr. Cutter, I'll give it a try, but if it interferes with my schooling or grades then I will have to leave.” I go to stand and shake his hand adding to my statement as I quickly think, “Also, I can only work part-time and not every weekend, or it's a deal breaker.” I say with my head held high and my eyes fixed on him showing I mean business. It's my senior year. The last thing I want is to be overly committed to a coffee shop during the last of my carefree days.
“That's more than fair, Sloane. Bring in your art work when you can but sooner the better and hang them on the walls where you see fit. Would you like to start tonight with Maisely?” He asks with hopeful eyes. I look down to see what I’m wearing to make sure it’s something I don’t mind getting dirty. I'm glad I came dressed for comfort. I have on my loose-fitting bell bottom jeans that sit low on my hips, a thick brown belt, and a belly shirt with long sleeves.
After agreeing to start training tonight, Mr. Cutter quickly shows me around and introduces me to Maisely. She's a short girl with red dreadlocks and brown eyes. Because of my tall height, everyone seems short to me. She is very bubbly with a fake air about her. I can already tell that I won’t like her. She is trying too hard and it comes off as fake. I am quiet and not much for conversation. When I reach my hand out, Maisely instantly pulls me in for a hug instead. This throws me off and I end up pushing her away.
“Look if I wanted a hug I wouldn't have extended my hand for a hand shake. Do not touch me.” I didn't mean to say that as aggressive as I did, but I really didn't like people in my personal bubble.
Maisely visibly shrinks back quietly apologizing.
“Well this is getting off to a great start.” Mr. Cutter laughs out sarcastically. “Well, Maisely, this is Sloane Cates. I'm going to need you to train her the next couple of days, and once that's complete you will move to the day shift.”
Maisely lights back up and thanks Mr. Cutter for the opportunity, as they smile at each other.
“Sorry again, about invading your space, Sloane. I'm just glad Mr. Cutter finally hired some help.” She smiles at me like I know what she means.
“Ummm okay. That's fine. I just don't like people I don't know touching me or people I know for that matter.” I have to add that last bit to ensure she knows it wouldn't be okay to hug me again.
“Won't happen again, I promise!” Maisely says. “The night shift is extremely slow around here. If you like to read I highly recommend bringing a book or magazine when you come to work.”
I look around and realize it's just her and myself with just an older gentleman sitting in the corner reading the paper while drinking an espresso.
Fancy.
I’m not there very long, but it turns out Maisely is a very good teacher. I learn that the mornings are busy, and tips are good, hence why Maisely is so excited to make the switch. She is in college and has books and other expenses to pay for. She attends the same college as my brother, but I didn’t mention that to her. By the end of the night, I can make every drink on the menu and have mastered the foam heart; at times it looks more like a shamrock blob. I laugh at myself every time it happens.
As the night comes to an end, I’m shown how to clean the shop and lock up. As we walk to our cars I’m secretly hoping she isn’t parked anywhere close to me, so I don’t have to endure even a few more minutes of her constant chatter.
As my luck would have it, we are parked right next to each other. She stops short as I’m pulling out my keys.
“Is this your car?” She squeals.
I roll my eyes knowing she doesn’t understand all the hard work I put into restoring my 1972 Oldsmobile 442 for the last 5 years, well before I could even drive the damn thing. All she sees is the killer paint job of greens and black with flake and pearl that sparkles even under the street lights. My buddy Roland gets the credit for all of that. Hell, the 442 was dubbed the complete escape
machine. It’s that for me, but that’s something most people don’t know anything about. I certainly didn't just restore your typical muscle car; no, I went above and beyond. I use it many nights doing side shows up in the Oakland hills and to race guys at a secret strip by the airport. This car and my photography were my way to escape.
“Yep, this is mine.” I say in a flat tone. I don't like to get all fan girl over stupid shit with people I never plan on being friends with in the first place.
Maisely starts jumping up and down like a kangaroo and screaming like a monkey. I take a step back, unsure what to expect next.
“You!!!! OMG!!!!! I can't believe I’ve been working with THE 442 Sloane this whole time!! Or otherwise known as Sultry Sloane!” She looks me up and down with wide eyes judging for herself. “You know you're the talk of the whole east bay right?” Maisely squeals out.
Thrown off by her knowledge of what people call me in the car circuits and her over the top enthusiasm, I take another step back but closer to my car this time.
“How do you know all this? I've never seen you at the shows or races.” I question her.
“I’ve only been twice because the last-minute side shows are the hardest to get to at a moment’s notice, but this guy I’m seeing knows all about you. Well his best friend does and of course they told me everything there was to know about you! I almost feel like I've known you all my life.”