“Yeah, I saw the cop. I hope they let Ryan off with a warning—he couldn’t have gotten up too much speed by the time they pulled him.”
“I hope he gets a ticket,” he muttered. “That’s what he gets for encouraging you.”
“Be nice,” I scolded. But he gave a merciless laugh, and I knew he was hoping that it was a big, fat ticket.
“Don’t race my car, anymore,” he added. “But, you did a good job—just don’t do it again.”
“I’ll be good,” I replied sweetly as I pulled into the movie theater parking lot.
He reached for the keys, but I clenched them in my hand, “Nope. All night, remember?”
“No racing, remember.” He looked serious and then he smiled. “Come on, Danica Patrick. Let’s go get our tickets.”
Kevin, Carlie, and a few others were in line when we walked inside. We got our tickets and then Evan insisted that we couldn’t see a movie without popcorn. He was at the concession counter about to finish up, and I was seated in the lobby when Ryan, Jewels, Nate, and Natasha came through the doors.
Jewels spotted me and dashed over, grabbing my arm. “You got to drive his car?” she squealed, though she knew the answer because she’d seen me. “That was so cool the way you took off the first time.”
“Did Ryan get a ticket? Is he mad?” I figured it was better to get these answers before Evan came back.
Jewels gave a big smile and shook her head, “Nah, I talked the cop out of it.”
“How did you do that?” I said, stifling a laugh.
“I told the officer, ‘Oh please don’t be mad at him, I just asked him if he’d show me how to make the tires smoke,’” and then she gave this really fake bat-your-lashes thing and put a sweet smile on her face.
“That worked?” I asked in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. The speed limit was forty-five and Ryan had only hit fifty when he saw the cop. But the cop said he could give him a ticket for an ‘uncontrolled start’ or something like that, so I begged for forgiveness; it worked. And, I don’t think he’s mad actually,” she added. “Although he says he could have beat you if he’d known what you were going to do on the first stretch.”
“Jewels, I could have taken him the second time too, but I saw the cop.”
She giggled. “I believe you. Just don’t tell Ryan that. I don’t want that sizzling male ego to be too damaged by my best friend.”
Evan made it to where I was sitting, carrying two bottled waters and a medium popcorn. “Hey, Jewels,” he acknowledged her, but then looked to me. “Let’s go ahead and get our seats before the good ones are all gone.”
Ryan and the others had just come around the corner, and I realized that he was trying to get me moving before they got to where we were. “All right, see you inside, Jewels. Bye.”
We went down the long hallway to the appropriate theater number and slipped quietly through the door. The room was already darkened as the previews played. He turned and started up the stairs to the upper rows of seats. I was a sit-in-the-center kind of girl, but evidently he liked the very top row. I asked him why so high when we settled in our comfortable chairs. He seemed mildly annoyed that I hadn’t figured that part out, then he tapped the wall behind our heads and simply said there’d be no ‘jerk’ sitting behind us. I translated jerk into Ryan.
It didn’t take long for the whole group to migrate toward the upper rows. The movie began and the theater became darker than before. Not long after the opening credits and the boy meets girl part, the killer axed off one of her friends. I jumped unintentionally—why did I agree to watch this? Yikes! There went another teenager. I hadn’t realized the grip I had on the arm rest until Evan pried my hand free and put it in his. Only for a moment, my mind was distracted from the flying body parts on screen as he held my hand and gently stroked my forearm with his fingers. It was warm and safe and almost melodic enough to make me drift into comfort. NUTS! A kid had been gutted on screen.
Thirty minutes later I was so wound up that I felt like one of those Halloween cats with its back arched, claws out, and every hair standing up on its body. That was when I realized I was nearly in Evan’s lap. Every time the hero or heroine would back up near a dark place in an alley or hallway, I’d duck my face against his neck and grip his shoulder. Once or twice, I thought I heard him chuckle—I don’t know how he could have found anything funny in all of this!
Finally the climactic scene arrived. Would she live? Would he save her in time? I knew the answers in my head, but my nerves were unconvinced. It appeared he was getting into the scene as well because at this point he had both his arms wrapped around me and my head rested against his cheek. Aah! Finally the killer was down, surely to vanish before the end scene, but I didn’t care. The pair had survived the onslaught and he finally told her he loved her—kiss—missing killer—the end. Whew! I could finally take a breath and relax.
“You can let me go now,” I whispered as the credits rolled.
There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t budge.
I pushed myself gently out of his embrace and that was when I saw it. In all the gripping, clawing and fright, I had pushed the sleeve of his tee-shirt almost to the top of his shoulder. I hadn’t meant to expose the scar that he was so sensitive about, but I gasped when I saw it. I’d never seen a bullet wound, but I knew that’s what it had to be.
Quickly, he pulled down the sleeve and gave me a steely look.
I wanted to say I was sorry and that I hadn’t done it on purpose, but the words wouldn’t form.
Everyone trudged out to the lobby. It was a few minutes after nine and they were making plans. The mall was open until ten, but by the time we would arrive there, it wouldn’t be long before we’d have to leave. Someone suggested pizza, but after all the blood and guts earlier, there weren’t many interested in that idea. Then it was down to billiards at Cooties, bowling at the AMF, or cruise out to the beach for a campfire. The whole campfire thing sounded just a little too romantic for my taste, but it seemed to interest everyone else.
Skeeter, one of the boys in our group, had a key for the West Beach park gate. His mother was a park ranger, and he was privileged to have it as long as he never took people out there that did stupid things like drinking or vandalizing park property. “We can’t get loud,” he warned.
“I don’t want to go,” I whispered to Evan.
He was still looking a little gruff over the business of me seeing his scar. “Why not? It’s early. What time did your…” he pause and dropped his voice lower so that he wouldn’t be heard. “…friends say you have to be home?”
It stung a little hearing him say it that way. He was reminding me of my secrets, the same way I had reminded him about the secret he kept under his sleeve. The difference was that mine was completely unintentional.
“I—I don’t have a set time.”
“Good, then you can go to the beach. Don’t worry, Leese,” he spoke, quieter than before, “With all your friends around, you’ll be safe.” And he just stared at me with those unnerving eyes.
I wondered, though my face felt expressionless, why he said it that way? Once again he was making me afraid of him.
“Leese,” Jewels called over the lobby noise, “Are you guys in?”
“Yeah, I guess. But just for a little while.”
Five vehicles, practically in train formation, headed out toward the bridge. I was in the back of the line. My fleeting joy over driving his sports car had evaporated, and I wasn’t about to get near Ryan at the front of the line because I knew there would be another challenge.
He seemed pleased that I wasn’t enjoying the drive as much as the one on the way to the theater. He looked relaxed in the seat as he stared out the window watching the bridge lights go by. I studied him in the moments that I knew he wasn’t looking. Matt had been right, he could have easily passed for someone in their twenties, not just because of the well developed sinuous sinew that ran from his necklin
e to his finger tips and places I hadn’t seen, but only were alluded to beneath his form fitted clothes, but also by his maturity. The other guys his age were usually more immature and less deliberate. There was something about him that was very deliberate, almost the point of being driven, and it seemed to be staying close to me.
My hand reached up for his stereo system. He didn’t notice the movement at first until I switched the controls from navigation to show the stereo options.
“You know how to work that?”
I ignored the question and was getting ready to search for my kind of music when I remembered I could bring up the previously played songs on one of these. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that it was the Natalie Grant song Perfect People that I had sung Wednesday night. I was ready to replay it when his hand stopped mine.
“Don’t.”
“But you must have liked it…” I started to rebut.
“I wanted to compare you to the original, that’s all.”
I moved further down the previously played list, surprised that he had played the other song I had sung as well. Then I hit Evan’s music. He hadn’t lied to me. It was all heavy metal. I recognized a lot of them. I flicked to what was most recent just before my music and clicked play. Welcome to the Jungle, by Guns n’ Roses began to pump through the Bose sound system like shock waves through water.
A smile curled onto his face.
I pushed the button for the windows to roll down, letting the salted air in and the music out. The list read like a bad boys dream. There was Paranoid by Black Sabbath (which had been played numerous times), Smells like Teen Spirit by Nirvana, Enter The Sandman by Metallica,…
“Ah,” escaped my lips before I could stop it.
His brow furrowed as he looked at me, “What?”
“One of my favorites,” I exclaimed.
I could tell by the look on his face that there was no way he figured I’d have found something in his playlist that was one of my favorites. He looked at the screen, “Twilight Zone by Golden Earring? I don’t believe that.”
“Oh yes, Baby,” I said with an almost iniquitous change in tone. “This song reminds me of eight minutes of shear heaven.” I hit the play button and gave it more volume. I knew every word and I could see it stunned him. I dropped the gears and pulled into the passing lane.
His eyes got bigger as he realized that I was getting ready to take the lead from Ryan. “Leeeese!” came the warning, but it was too late as we flew passed the line of cars.
I just kept singing, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel. I knew where we were headed and I left the pack in the dust. I weaved through the tight streets and headed for the dead end at the beach. The look on his face changed as he listened and watched my facial expressions. The big finish was coming and I was charged like a bolt of lightning to do something I hadn’t done in almost two years. Daytona was back in my mind like some happy drug. The final approach to the park ended in a large round cul-de-sac turn around just before the big iron bar that blocked the visitors from entering at night. I could see on approach that the circle was empty. I dropped the shifter one more time, looked at Evan and said, “Hold on.”
He didn’t have time to rebut or tell me no, all he could do was grip the door with one hand and brace against the dash with the other. It was brake, shift, steer and we spun three-hundred and sixty degrees into the circle.
“Wow!” I practically screamed out as the smoke and dust began to clear.
“What is wrong with you? You could have killed us both!” He had my right arm in a grip so hard that it was painful, but I still managed to reach over with my left and turn off the music.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I was saying about the power of his hold, but yet I was trying to laugh too, “I’m sorry, but I’ve done it before—at Daytona.”
He let go, realizing he’d put a nasty red mark on my skin. “Daytona?”
“Yeah, you know the race track.” I said rubbing my arm. “I told you my family had money…” I let it drift off hoping he’d get an idea of what I was talking about. “I was allowed to drive for the length of one song. Twilight Zone is eight minutes long—it was what I picked.”
“This isn’t Daytona,” he growled.
Just then the headlights of the other cars came into view as they filed into the circle. I was still trying to get the mark to disappear from my skin while Skeeter was unlocking the gate.
He reached over, all the anger had dissipated from his eyes as he gently stroked my upper arm. “I’m really sorry about that.” His voice was so low and choked that I could barely hear him.
I gave a braver-than-I-felt smile and replied that it was okay, but I’d need my jacket to cover it up.
He reached behind the seat and handed it to me, apologizing once more.
“I guess I deserved it,” I muttered.
“No,” he said, his hand turning my face toward him. “You didn’t deserve to get hurt.” He let a little grin come out from behind the pain filled expression. “I—I just wish you’d have mentioned your weakness for fast cars and bad music, before I convinced you to drive.”
The gate was open and everyone drove down the winding shell road, through the dark tangle of pines that led to the beach area. We parked next to the pavilion as Skeeter unlocked the rental shack and pulled out beach chairs for everyone. Evan, Nate, and Ryan gathered pieces of wood and tossed them into the big round fire pit and, after a short while, we had a nice crackling blaze.
Some sat around the fire while others wandered down to the water’s edge. It was just a little bit nippy in the March air, so my jacket actually felt good and the fire was a perfect complement to the night. Ryan and Jewels were into a pretty deep conversation so I didn’t have any worries about him and Evan causing friction. Kev and Carlie were beside us, Kevin having vaulted into an explanation about the special effects from the movie. Evan looked over and asked if I’d like to walk to the water. There were other people there so I felt it was safe. Once we were far enough away, he asked me what I’d driven on the speedway. I grinned and looked down at my feet trudging through the sand.
“Your VW isn’t your first car, is it?” He sounded fairly sure of my answer.
Now I had to decide how much to say. I’d told him my family had money, but I never said how much. I knew his family must also have money, simply because most teenagers don’t have a brand new forty-five-thousand dollar car to drive, so would it matter to him? “I’ll tell you, but on one condition.” I stopped walking and looked up, my hair getting tousled by the wind. He took both hands and tucked the fluttering strands behind my ears.
“What?”
“You’re getting information about me, but I know almost nothing about you.”
The smile slowly faded from his face, “There isn’t much to tell.” He turned and continued walking toward the water.
“I still want to know more about you.”
He rubbed the hidden scar on his arm. “You may not like what you hear. Tell me about your car—your real car.”
I was assuming that was as close to a yes as I was going to get. We reached the place where the loose sand became compacted and I lowered myself to sit with my knees drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. He followed suit, putting himself hip to hip with me.
“Before I turned old enough to get my restricted, my mom bought me a Jaguar—so I could learn how to drive,” I added.
He let out something that sounded like a half laugh, “Nice first car to learn in.”
“Yeah, but it was an automatic and the kind of driving school I attended…” I let my words fall into nothingness.
“Not your average driving school, I take it?”
“No, not at all. And, if I was going to learn how to do some of the more—more challenging moves, I needed a manual transmission and a faster car.”
“Daddy to the rescue, right? You talked your dad into something sportier than what your mother bought?”
“No—Dad thought I was
too young to have a car. So I bought myself a Porsche 911.”
He got a funny look on his face as he stared at me. “That explains your driving.”
“I wanted to at least see what it could do.”
“At least,” he mused.
“So my driving instructor got special permission for me to try it out on the speedway. There was nothing going on there so I had some privacy. Tony said I could try my favorite moves and then I could run it flat-out on the track, but only for the length of one…”
“Song,” he finished for me. “So how fast did it go?”
I was trying my best to be humble at that moment, but I could remember the thrill of nearly unchecked speed. “I ran mostly about one-fifty, one-sixty, but I got it up to one-ninety before I lost my nerve.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said rather nonchalantly.
“It’s the truth! I really did run on Daytona,” I insisted
“Oh, I believe that. I can’t believe you lost your nerve.”
“I’m not a big risk taker…” I started to say, when he burst into laughter and rolled back on to the sand.
“What?” I stretched out on the sand as well, rolling to my side to face him. It was cold and slightly damp, but it was worth it to get a good view of the genuine happy look on his face.
“You are not a risk taker? I saw the speedometer in town and I just went three-sixty with you on a sand covered beach parking lot, and…” He went quiet.
“And, what?” I prodded.
He reached up and touched my arm where he’d tried to snap it off earlier. Even though the touch was soft, my arm was still painful, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. “You’re here with me,” he answered.
“So you’re saying you are a big risk?” I pried. It was time to find out more about the guy who was magnetizing my heart, drawing me to his steel façade.
I reached over and touched the scarred shoulder through his tee-shirt. I thought I felt him shudder under my fingers. “I didn’t realize I’d guessed this right that day at gym—I just hope I was wrong about it being a girl you were stalking.”
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