“Well, the way I see it, you don’t have much of a choice.” He moved toward me. “I hate you.”
“Hate me all you want, but you’re late, and I’m your only option, so let’s get a move on.” A sly grin spread across his face as he helped me with the protective gear and buckled the helmet strap under my chin. He sat on the bike and motioned for me to get on behind him while he fastened his own helmet then reached back, grabbed both of my arms, and wrapped them around his waist.
“Now, just relax and let yourself lean when I lean, okay?” I gave him a nervous nod. “Alright, let’s go do this thing.”
The engine wound to life and my chest filled with butterflies.
What if I accidentally let go? What if I fell? God, what had I gotten myself into? Colton threw back the kickstand with the heel of his left boot, flicked his right wrist to rev the engine, and took off.
I squealed and closed my eyes, hoping that if I couldn’t see anything, I could pretend it wasn’t happening, but the high-pitched whine of the bike’s engine, the pressure of the wind around me, and the feel of Colton’s hard abs through his jacket kept bringing me back to reality. A slight throb tapped at my temples, but nothing threatening, thank God. I molded myself against his back and forced myself to open my eyes. This wasn’t so bad. Not as scary as I thought it’d be. Actually, it was kind of fun. I decided to let myself relax and enjoy the experience.
We made it to the shop in record time, regaining the minutes I’d lost that morning. Most racing shops were out in Mooresville—Race City, Colton called it—but DSG Racing’s glass and concrete complex was based out of Atlanta.
I followed Colton through the main entrance and into a huge high-ceilinged lobby. Colton approached the large reception desk near the back wall. “Hi, Becky, is Dean free?” Colton asked the dainty woman behind the desk.
“Good morning, Mr. Tayler. Yes, his meeting ended twenty minutes ago. He should be in his office now. I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Becky, this is Lexi. Do you have her building pass ready yet?”
“Ah, yes, the new recruit.” She turned and pulled out a plastic key card attached to a retractable clip from a drawer behind her and placed it on the counter. “Glad to have you aboard, Miss Adams.”
“Thanks.” I took the pass and clipped it to my pant pocket as I followed Colton into the elevator.
We got off on the fifth floor. Colton walked me to Dean’s office at the end of the hall. “Welcome to DSG Racing,” Dean said with pride, greeting us at the door. “What do you think?”
He had a massive office with a large oak desk and a big picture window overlooking the park across the street behind it. Wall-to-wall shelving full of awards, trophies, and framed certificates lined the wall to my right. Behind me, framed pictures of the crews and cars at various tracks hung over the love seat. To my left a large window overlooked the shop below, where the crews, technicians, and specialists were busy building and testing the ProNation and Cup series race cars.
“Impressive,” I said, gawking down at the shop.
“You ready to get started?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Well, let’s get at ’er, then.” Dean showed me the way back down to the shop. Assembly lines ran along both sides of the arena-sized warehouse. Crews down the left side worked on Colton’s 129 Angel cars—I do mean cars, plural—and on the right, the 396 Watson’s Steel and Lumber ProNation car. Link’s car. It was like looking into mirror after mirror after mirror. The cars lined both sides, all tweaked with the specifications for different tracks: restrictor plated, not restrictor plated, short tracks, long tracks. In front of them, the car Colton drove last weekend sat on blocks, hood open and motorless.
“Is something wrong with it?” I pointed.
“Oh, no, we always strip the motor out to test the engine after every weekend.” Dean pointed to a room on the far end. “We test the engine’s horsepower output to see how much it’s lost throughout the race.”
“Wow, I never realized how much work needed to be done post-race.” I watched as swarms of workers analyzed data and tinkered with parts.
“Colton,” a crew member called out to him.
“Stewart, hey!” Colton looked back. “I’ll catch you two later.”
Dean waved him off, and Colton headed to fist bump and man-hug some of his crew members.
“What will I be doing?” I asked Dean, eager to get to work.
“Well, since dismantling things seemed to be your specialty, I thought I’d set you up over here.”
I followed him to a back room that housed rows and rows of aluminum shelving full of car parts.
“What is all this? Looks like the stock rooms back home.”
“Well, it’s sort of the same thing, only these don’t all work. These are salvaged parts from wrecked cars and malfunctioning ones that still have usable parts attached to them, but we never had the manpower to assign someone to dismantle them.”
I gawked at each row of shelves as he led me to the front of the room. “So, it’s like an auto parts graveyard?”
“Yeah.” Dean chuckled. “Basically.”
A large stainless steel counter stretched along the wall ahead. It had three sinks and racks of open-front bins fixed to the wall above them.
“So, your job will be to dismantle these completely, clean every part—nuts, bolts, everything—and put them in the proper bins. The large parts can go on these shelves over here”—he pointed to some empty shelves off to the side—“to be analyzed by the techs to see what’s good and what will get tossed. You up for it?”
My lips crept into a smile. “Hell, yeah!”
I longed for the peaceful distraction that came with working with my hands, the release of pent-up emotions and pressure from the iron levels in my system in small controlled doses when no one was watching. It’s how I’d been able to stay in control back home. There were far too many witnesses on the other side of that wall, but I was confident that the work would keep me calm and give me back some balance.
“Good. All the solvents you need are behind the cabinet doors under the counter, and everything else is in the large toolbox at the other end there. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks.”
Dean turned back toward the doorway. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my office for most of the day. Don’t be shy.”
“I won’t,” I called back as he disappeared around the corner. Alone at last.
I took a deep breath and eagerly raided the toolbox for tools I needed but wouldn’t use, laying them on the counter next to where I’d be working. I filled four buckets and all the sinks with solvents, oil, and brake cleaner, and got to work.
This was where my ability didn’t feel so much like a curse. When away from curious and prying eyes, it had its advantages. My fingers hovered and twirled over bolts and nuts, unscrewing them with ease, and levitated them into the solvents, oils, and bins with a flick of my hand. I had a one-girl disassembly line going, all while keeping my ears peeled in case someone came to check up on me. I couldn’t let anyone see my mechanical version of the magic mop and water bucket scene from Disney’s Fantasia.
I lost track of time and almost didn’t hear the heavy footsteps coming in behind me. In a panic, I reeled back my magnetic hold and let the handful of bolts that were currently making their way to the bucket fall to the counter. I cringed at the loud noise, but ignored the mess and dove for the socket wrench. I pretended to struggle with a nut on the starter I had in front of me. I had just enough time to take a quick glance down at my reflection in the stainless steel countertop to make sure my eyes weren’t bloodshot and red before the footsteps got too close. I never could figure out how much time or energy it took for my eyes to change.
“Looks like you’ve got a good rhythm going,” Colton said, leaning against the rack closest to me. “Dean was right, you’re good at this.”
“Thanks.” I put the soc
ket wrench down and lifted my goggles over my head.
“You should probably wear gloves, though.” He pointed at my grease-covered hands.
“I can never get the hang of working with gloves. Can’t get a proper grip with them on.”
“I know what you mean.” He pushed off the rack and moved closer. “You ready to break for lunch?”
“Is it lunchtime already?”
He nodded. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Most of the guys are ordering in, but I thought we could go to the diner next door. What do you say?”
My mind screamed no, but my heart thumped hell, yes.
“Sure, why not?” My lips spoke before I could stop them. Traitors. I was going to have to watch out for that in the future.
“Wash up and meet me out front.”
The Park Side Diner overflowed with various industrial park employees, but we found a booth near the back corner. It felt a little too intimate for my taste, but I didn’t have much of a choice. The waitress took our orders and returned with our food not fifteen minutes later.
“So, you ever thought of going to school to be a licensed mechanic or technician?” Colton asked, taking the first bite of his club sandwich.
“Never really thought much about anything after high school. The plan was to wait until I turned eighteen, and then move the hell out of Roy’s place and into the cottage Mama left for me. Besides, I could never afford it.” I sliced into my fish and chips and shoveled the first forkful into my mouth.
“How about now, though? You could probably save up enough throughout the season for one semester and get a loan for the rest. Dean told me you were fast-tracking your studies. You could probably get into college by next fall.”
“Fast-tracking only gets me graduated one semester ahead of time, meaning I’ll be done in January. I doubt I’d be able to get in then. Like I said, I never gave it much thought.”
“You could come back and work for Dean.”
I cut up another piece of my fish. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
A quick flash of disappointment shifted into a puzzled look. “Why not?”
I had to have imagined it—as if he cared whether I came back or disappeared after this season.
“Dean hired me out of pity. If I was certified, I’d want to be hired on skill alone.”
Colton took another bite of his club and wiped his fingers with a napkin. “Dean didn’t hire you out of pity.”
“Yeah? What else would you call it? Don’t think I’m not grateful, but I don’t know if the racing world is all that safe for me.”
“What makes it any less safe for you than it is for me?”
Shoot. Bad choice of words. I stabbed a few fries in the small cup of ketchup on the edge of my plate. “Never mind. Can we talk about something else?”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
I tossed the fries onto my plate, unable to eat another bite. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Okay, fine. I just wanted to get to know you better, that’s all.”
I leaned back from the table, away from him, and folded my arms. “Don’t you get it? There’s nothing to get to know. I’m an abused little girl without much of a life or a future. I’m a statistic. Now, can we drop it?” I looked away, unable to stare at the hurt on his face while he ate the rest of his lunch in silence. I forced a few morsels down, paid for my meal, and returned to my job without as much as a “see you later.”
To avoid another confrontation with Colton, I rode back to the house with Dean and immediately jumped in the shower. Afterwards, I returned to the kitchen and sat down for dinner with Dean, Lorna, and Annabelle, who fidgeted endlessly in her booster seat. Lorna placed a serving of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and salad in front of me. Everything smelled so yummy, my taste buds couldn’t wait to savor the flavors of a home-cooked meal. It had been so long. I looked over at the empty place setting next to me. “Where’s Colton?”
“Cotton,” Annabelle gleefully shrieked.
I giggled, still finding it adorable that she couldn’t pronounce his name right.
Lorna reached for the butter at the center of the table. “Friends of his from town picked him up a half hour ago while you were in the shower.”
“Oh.” It’s not like I planned to apologize. I still thought I should leave things the way they were, but his absence rankled. It wasn’t his fault I’d been born a magnetic freak. I wasn’t being fair by taking out my frustrations on him. Ah, crap. Maybe I did owe him an apology.
Later that night, I sat outside at the bottom of his stairs and waited for him. By then, my urge to fix the situation was all I could think about. Colton had been nothing but nice to me, and I’d shit all over it. I’d even brought him a peace offering—a piece of leftover cheesecake Lorna had made for dessert. Time passed, and darkness fell. I looked up at the stars in the clear night’s sky. They shined brighter then I’d ever seen them. Mama used to love looking up at the stars on warm summer nights. I always thought it so boring to spend hours just looking up at the sky, but now I cherished the memory of those moments I had with her.
Bright headlights pulled into the driveway and interrupted my thoughts. Music blared from the yellow Scion’s open windows. The driver stepped out and stood behind his open door, laughing at something. A tall brunette climbed out of the passenger seat and folded the seat forward. Colton stepped out from the back seat of the two-door coupe.
“It was a blast hanging out with you again. We should do it more often,” the driver said to him.
“Yeah, man, but it’s the busy season, you know that.”
“It’s good to have you back in town.”
“It’s good to be back.”
The girl wrapped her arms around Colton’s neck and pecked him on the cheek. “We should all go to the movies next week.” She looked at him as if by all, she meant just the two of them. But then she added, “Maybe we could finally meet this Lexi chick.”
I stiffened at the sound of my name, realizing they couldn’t see me sitting in the shadows.
“Nah, don’t count on it.” Colton slid his hands into his back pockets and hunched his shoulders. “She … kinda doesn’t like to talk much. I don’t really think she’s the type that would enjoy hanging with us, if you catch my drift?”
My jaw swung open. What? I clamped my mouth shut, analyzed my surroundings, and flung a discarded decking screw I sensed on the ground near the front veranda at the back of his leg.
“Ouch, what the hell was that?”
“What?” the girl asked, backing away from him.
Colton reached down, picked up the screw, and rubbed the long scratch down his calf.
“This”—he held out the screw to show her—“freakin’ thing scratched me.”
“Aww, poor baby,” she said, giving him another kiss on the cheek.
I looked away for a second to control myself from sending anything else flying—this time at her head. Was I jealous? No. Couldn’t be. I was too mad at Colton to be jealous … right?
“Anyway,” the driver said, “give us a call if you’re free next week.”
“Will do.”
The guy got back in his car. The girl gave him the seductive “call me” gesture while mouthing the words, then got back in the car and shut the door. Colton waved as they drove off, and then walked toward the stairs. He froze when he saw me, his face dropping as if fifteen daggers were pointed directly at him. A tear rolled down my cheek. I hadn’t realized my eyes had welled with them. I stood and stepped toward him.
“Lexi! What are you …?” He bit his lip, likely realizing what I’d overheard, and knew he needed to come up with some lame excuse.
“Here.” I held out the Saran-wrapped plate and fork.
He glanced at it, but made no attempt to take it from me.
“What’s this?”
“I saved you a piece of cake to apologize for earlier today, but f
or some odd reason, I don’t feel very apologetic at the moment. You know … because I ‘don’t like to talk much.’” I mimicked his faint drawl. “Or maybe it’s because I just learned that you don’t think I’m good enough to meet your friends.”
“Lexi, that’s not what I … I can explain.”
“Please do. I’d really like to see you squirm your way out of this one.” I kept my expression stern, but I couldn’t get my face to stop throbbing.
He just stared at me, his lips twitching as if trying to form words.
“That’s what I thought.” I stormed past him, shoving the plate in his hands as I did so, and headed back to the house.
“Lexi, wait!”
I closed the door behind me and didn’t look back.
chapter nine
Today we were flying out to Phoenix. I’d managed to avoid Colton like the plague all day yesterday and most of the morning, but he wasn’t making it easy. He even had the nerve to try to corner me at breakfast, but I’d successfully snaked passed him and locked myself in my room.
When it came time to leave, I climbed into the back of Dean’s crew cab pickup truck, giving Colton the front seat. No way was I going to let him stare at the back of my head for the entire ride.
“Okay, you two.” Dean hoisted himself into the driver’s seat in front of me and pulled his door shut. “What’s up with the silent treatment?”
I leaned my head against the window. “It’s nothing, Dean. I promise. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Colton looked back at me. Our eyes met. His gaze tugged at my emotions, but the hurtful words he’d said about me still lingered in the back of my mind. Not once had he tried to apologize. All he kept trying to do was explain why he’d said them. Explain what, exactly? Clearly, he’d meant every word. Why had he been so nice if he didn’t consider me the type of girl he could introduce to his friends? I mean, I may be a freak, but he didn’t know that. What was it about me that was so not their type?
I looked away and stared out at the scenery passing by my window. Dean didn’t pry or try to make small talk, and I was grateful.
Magnetic Shift Page 8
