“Lexi’s here,” Colton corrected him before he could finish his sentence.
Dean appeared around the corner. He looked the same as he had the day he’d strolled into Roy’s office: thirty-something, medium build, wavy brown hair. “Oh.” His expression softened. “Hello, Lexi.” He pulled his hand out of his dark jean pocket and held it out to me. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Dean Grant.”
No, we hadn’t. Roy hadn’t had the decency to introduce me to the man who was going to rip me out of the only home I’d known for the past eight years and whisk me away for an entire NASCAR racing season, all because I knew how to turn a stupid wrench.
I looked down at his waiting hand, and then up at his face. “I know who you are.” Jerk.
Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like I had the perfect life with Roy in that hellhole I called home. Dean had seen the fresh handprint-shaped bruise on my arm the day he’d toured the shop—now a faded yellow, unrecognizable mark hidden under my sleeve—but still. I’d managed fine on my own. I knew how to deal with Roy’s temper, and I only had to put up with it until November. In her will, Mama had left me the old cottage by the lake—the one we’d lived in before she’d married that scumbag—and it would finally be mine on my eighteenth birthday. All I had to do was prove that I intended on graduating high school, which I did.
Colton dropped my luggage in the middle of the aisle and grazed my arm on his way to the bar fridge. The contact made my temples throb again, this time causing a tool to rattle on the workbench behind Dean.
Oh, come on. Not again. Lex, get a grip.
I clenched my fists and worked at regaining control while trying to keep my face expressionless.
Dean took back his hand, rocked onto his heels, and looked past me at Colton, oblivious to my struggles. “Move her bag over there, will ya?” He nodded to a corner between the workbench and the door. “I’ll come see you before Link’s practice.”
Colton swallowed as he tightened the cap of a water bottle he’d taken from the fridge. “Sure thing, boss.” He moved the suitcase, flashed me another grin, and then left the way we’d come.
Dean put his hand on my shoulder and pointed toward the next room. “Let’s go chat in my office, shall we?” I flinched and gave him a sharp stare. I didn’t like being touched, not without good reason. He pulled his hand away awkwardly, clearing his throat as he did so, and gestured for me to go in before him.
I slipped my backpack off my shoulders, dropped it on the floor, and sat in one of the two upholstered office chairs facing his desk. The room was gray and dull; not one picture or poster hung on the walls. The only dab of color came from the large green and yellow sponsor calendar that lay on his desk. Talk about boring.
Dean rounded the desk and pulled back the chair on the other side. “I hope you had a pleasant trip.”
He meant the cramped, two-hour bus ride from Kissimmee to the Daytona International Credentials Office a few blocks from here, where he hadn’t even had the decency to pick me up himself.
“Fine.”
“Good.” He smoothed out his yellow satin tie and sat.
I lowered my gaze, fiddling with the credentials badge hanging from my neck as I fought to keep my emotions in check. I didn’t want to “accidentally” launch every metallic object in this room at his head, although knowing I could if I wanted to helped me relax. I forced myself not to smile at the idea of whacking him in the face with a stapler.
“Now, I know being here may seem somewhat odd to you. It’s not exactly an ethical way of negotiating a sponsorship deal with your stepfather’s business. But, after seeing you work from his office window, I couldn’t refuse his offer.”
Yeah, I’m sure he hadn’t missed the part where Roy had stormed down from his second story office to yell his brains out at me when the transmission I’d been removing fell and almost smashed my face in. I’d managed to deflect it to the floor with my ability, but Roy hadn’t noticed that, and neither had Dean. He’d been too busy watching Roy scream at me for almost ruining the part his customer was picking up later that afternoon.
Dean stared at my not-so-pleased expression and sighed. “Look, Lexi, I realize you probably don’t think much of me now, and I’m not going to force you to stay—”
“Like I have a choice,” I mumbled, slouching deeper into my chair.
“Yes, you do.”
I glanced up. “I do?” Hope began to stir, but then fear reared its ugly head. How could I go home now? Roy would beat the crap out of me for screwing up his deal. And, to be honest, did I seriously want to go back there?
Running away wasn’t an option if I wanted to graduate or inherit the cottage, so that didn’t leave me with many choices.
Dean narrowed his eyes, as if trying to figure out what was going on in my head. “Give me three days. Give me until Sunday’s race to prove you’ll fit in here, to show you what this new life has to offer, and then you can give me an answer on whether you want to stay or go. If you decide this isn’t for you, I’ll drive you home myself.”
“What about your contract with Roy?”
He threaded his fingers together and leaned his forearms on the desk. “I’ll honor my commitment to him for the remainder of the season.”
Was this guy for real? Would he seriously let Roy’s East Coast Salvage’s name stay on as a sponsor if I walked away? He was nuts. Sponsorship ads weren’t cheap. That much I knew.
“Do we have a deal?” Dean stretched his open hand across his desk.
His eyes held a sincere promise, but this whole thing still seemed fishy to me. Something told me there was another reason I was here and it had nothing to do with my mechanical skills. But what did I have to lose? Worst case, I’d be back home in three days.
I firmly planted my hand in his and nodded.
“Deal.”
chapter two
I followed Dean through the infield down to the drivers’ lot where I’d be staying for the weekend. People circled and stared like vultures nearing a fresh kill. Some even whispered as we passed by. I didn’t belong here, and they all knew it. I gripped my backpack tighter and hoped that once Dean showed me to my room, I could have some alone time to calm my agitated nerves and my cursed senses. If I was going to function, I needed to get a grip on my emotions before I completely lost it.
Dean ushered me through the side door of a large, dark gray motor coach with green decorative swirls along its side. My eyes widened and wandered around the luxurious space, looking at the hardwood crown moldings and matching cabinet doors, the speckled granite countertops, and the black, polished floors that sparkled at my feet. Dean took the lead again and moved toward the back of the bus, passing two beige leather sofas before entering another room where he swung my suitcase onto the queen-sized bed centered against the back wall. “So … what do you think?”
I followed him in, taking slow and steady steps toward the bed. I needed time to digest the elegance that surrounded me. I mean … this was a bus. A freakin’ bus. From the outside, I’d never expected it to look so spacious and rich.
“It’s huge.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Dean chuckled. “Yes, well. This is the master bedroom. I thought you’d appreciate having your own space when at the tracks. You even have your own bathroom right through that door.” He pointed to a narrow sliding door behind him.
I blinked rapidly to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. “I get my own bathroom?” I slid my backpack off my shoulders and dropped it on the bed.
Dean nodded. “Colton and I are set up on the bunk beds at the other end. We share another bathroom up there.”
I stared in awe at the room: the dark brown, built-in nightstands, the long dresser, the tipped out wardrobe that sat empty, begging me to fill it. I opened the bathroom door and gasped at its sheer size with crisp, white walls, a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and a stand-up shower in the corner. This was too much. My musty corner loft roo
m above the garage back home would only have filled half this space, if that.
The shock wore off, and Dean’s words sunk in. “Wait, Colton sleeps here too?” A static spark ignited in my head.
“He sure does. I gotta pamper my drivers.” He tilted his head slightly. “That, and his parents preferred that he stay with me until he turns twenty-one. It’s a condition they set when I took him on last year, but you didn’t hear it from me. Colton doesn’t like to advertise it.”
“Huh.” So not only would I be working with Colton, I’d be sharing a living space with him for the whole weekend. The low hum of pulsating currents in my head didn’t seem to like that idea much.
“I left you a few t-shirts and ball caps in the first drawer over in that dresser with our team logos on them. I recommend you wear them on race day, but I’ll leave that up to you. And if you follow me into the kitchen, I have a few more things I want to give you.”
More things? He did realize I worked for him, not the other way around, right?
Dean pulled out a large bag from a compartment under the seat of the eating area and motioned for me to sit.
“From what I gather, you’ve been doing your schooling through online independent studies. Correct?”
I nodded and shifted awkwardly. “It’s a long story, I—”
He waved his hand. “No need to explain. It’s actually a relief that I didn’t have to pull you out of school.” I bit my lip. He proceeded to pull out a black Toshiba laptop from a zipped protective casing and set it down in front of me. “I just want to make sure you don’t neglect your school work while you’re with us.” I stared at it. A squeal lodged itself in my throat—this gift was too good to be true. “It’s not new, but I had it reformatted and made sure you’d have all the software you need.”
Who cared if it wasn’t new? Anything was better than the old piece of shit computer I had at home that would greet me with the blue screen of death the second I attempted to surf the web and run MS Word at the same time.
My lip twitched, wanting to smile, but I suppressed it. I couldn’t accept this gift, not when I had every intention of leaving Sunday.
“Sir, I appreciate what you’re doing, but—”
“It’s Dean. And consider the laptop a loan if it makes you feel more comfortable.” Before I could respond, he pulled out a small wallet-sized case. “This is so we can reach you when we need to. Colton tells me it’s the phone to have. He set it up for you. Added music and apps he thought you might like.” He opened the case and placed a brand new iPhone on the table next to the laptop.
I picked it up, my hand trembling. I’d never had a cell phone before, nor had I ever had the need for one, but I’d wanted one so bad. My eyes itched. I took a conscious breath and set the phone back on the table. “Dean, I—”
Dean’s finger shot up and stopped me. “Oh, and I almost forgot …” he reached into his back pocket. “This should be enough to get you started.” He held out a folded envelope. I shot him a glance and then looked down at his hand. He pushed the envelope toward me. I took it, opened it, and pulled out a stack of twenty-dollar bills. A web of emotions spun in my throat and fed the curse, now pulsating hard in my temples. I dropped the bills on the table as if they’d bitten me and balled my hands together in my lap.
Get a grip, Lex. You’re stronger than this.
“Is something wrong?” Dean asked, looking puzzled.
“Why are you doing this?”
Dean slipped his hands in his pockets. “Did you actually think me cruel enough not to pay you?”
Okay. Now I really didn’t understand. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”
“With Roy, yes. But with you, it doesn’t have to be.” I looked down at the money.
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to pay you in cash—under the table, so to speak. Two hundred per week sound good?”
“Two hundred per—” My throat stopped functioning and pressure built in the back of my eyes. I’d never been paid for working at the Salvage Yard, nor had I ever gotten an allowance. Roy would show up now and then with a hand-me-down bag of clothes he’d picked up from God knows where, and if my luck aligned with the planets just right, he’d bring home a movie rental as a treat, but that was the extent of his kindness and fulfillment of stepfatherly duties. The only time Roy ever put money in my hand was for me to run his errands at the supermarket next door.
The Blackberry clipped to Dean’s belt chirped. In a quick one-handed sweep, he unclipped it, thumbed the keys, and read the screen. “Ah, hell.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clipping the phone back at his waist. “I hate to do this to you, but I have to go. The CEO of Guardian Auto Insurance decided to swing by unannounced. I need to clear my schedule and go schmooze the man if we want to keep him on as our main sponsor for the full season. Are you okay here?”
I batted my lids to dry the moisture building along my lashes and nodded. I was on the verge of crumbling—which was totally unlike me—and I didn’t like it one bit.
The side door burst open, and Colton ran inside. “Dean, Mr. Langdon’s—”
“I know. Jimmy just texted me,” Dean told him.
My stomach fluttered when Colton’s eyes shifted to me and didn’t look away. I tried my best to look sane and not disturbed by the forces churning inside my head. I thought I’d imagined it before, but now I knew for sure that Colton had a strong effect on me, one that warmed my insides but also kept me teetering on the edge of going magnetically insane. It didn’t help that Dean’s gift giving had thrown my emotions all out of whack. I didn’t know if I could control it much longer.
Dean glanced at his watch. “Link’s practice is in forty-five minutes. Lexi, if you want you can meet me at the hauler later to get a feel for what we do around here.”
I broke eye contact with Colton and looked back at the items in front of me. My energy was draining fast, and the pressure kept building. I couldn’t remember the last time my head pounded and throbbed this bad. “I’d like to stay here and unpack … if that’s okay.”
“Alright …” Concern crept across Dean’s face, dueling with his obvious sense of obligation, but he concealed it with a smile. “I’ll see you later, then.” He hesitated, and then turned to Colton. “Come on, kid. We can’t make the man wait.”
Colton followed Dean out and threw me a smile and a wink before closing the door behind him.
That did it.
My head exploded with pain. I threw myself over the phone and laptop to prevent them from moving, but the coffee machine and a few other objects on the counter levitated and swirled up above my head. Cupboard doors began to open and slam shut thanks to their spring-loaded hinges.
My first day of high school flashed in front of my eyes. It was all happening again.
I covered my ears and ran to the bathroom, trying to escape the clanging metal and vibrating walls, but the chaos followed. Why me? Why did I have to suffer with this curse?
I knew why. It was thanks to the father I didn’t remember and the stupid unexplained condition he passed onto me at birth, the one that caused my iron levels to fluctuate with my emotions and allowed my body to store it all without symptoms.
But I could live with that—and I had, for fourteen years. No one but my mother knew I could sense every metal object around me the second I walked into a room, more so if my emotions were heightened. Essentially, I was a human metal detector. But what Mama failed to explain to me was why my father felt the need to take his own life only days after surviving a power line accident when I was two, or why she kept me locked inside the house during electrical storms.
I understood when I’d survived my own life-altering encounter with high voltage the night of her funeral. My emotions had been at their highest, my iron level through the roof, when lightning had struck. I found out that night what had driven my father to end his life. And now the curse was mine to bear.
For three years now, I’d been dealing with this new manifestation of my abilit
y, this new control I had over metal objects as if they were an extension of my body. I thought I’d finally mastered it—but then again, who can say for sure when emotions play a role?
A tight-fisted knot ached behind my ribcage. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t stay here. I had to leave on Sunday before someone figured out what I could do, before they shipped me off to some institute or research facility. But did I really want to go back to face Roy and his rage?
I leaned against the wall and faced the long mirror in front of me. My usual storm grey eyes stared back at me, blood red and panicked from the intensity of uncontrolled magnetic currents flowing through me like a triple shot of caffeine. My eyes burned and tingled like pins and needles. They’d done the same that first day of high school, and every other time I’d lost control after that until I’d learned to contain it.
I wasn’t doing a good job of it now, though.
I squeezed my eyes shut and sank to the floor, rocking myself back and forth to calm my mind. Mama did that with me when I got upset as a kid. If only she were here now to take me into her arms, rock me, and tell me everything would be okay. But things weren’t okay. Every metal-hinged door flung open and slammed shut, over and over. I kept my hands over my ears to muffle the noise and prayed the shower door didn’t shatter. The walls around me shook as if a hurricane was blowing through the lot outside. My lungs burned and ached. I wanted to scream.
Oh, God, make it stop. Make it stop.
I hugged my legs tight to my chest, put my head down, and forced myself to concentrate on something, anything other than the chaos around me. Imagining my mother’s face was the only thing that worked in the past. That calmed me when this new ability first manifested, but as time went on, the details of her features, her smile, even the feel of her skin faded from my memory. I relied on pictures that contained some—not all—of the details my memory had lost, but it wasn’t the same. Besides, I hadn’t needed to be calmed in over two years. Why was this happening now?
Magnetic Shift Page 2
