by Alex van Tol
A few minutes pass without us talking, and then he offers me another beer. I say no.
“What do you mean, no?” he asks.
I’m careful to choose the right words. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m accusing him of anything. “I mean,” I say slowly, “if I drink any more, I won’t be able to drive.”
“Sure you will,” he says, moving to stand in front of me. “You’ll just go faster.” His tone is playful. He grins and slides his hands down to my butt.
Wow.
He’s not at all the same guy I saw a few minutes ago. He presses himself against me and nuzzles my neck.
I can’t help it. I smile.
Then he kisses me. It’s not like Dmitri’s kiss, not by a long shot, but I find my body responding to him of its own accord. I like feeling his hands around my hips, his rough stubble on my chin. No butterflies with this guy. Instead, my stomach sends out a warning signal.
Danger.
I ignore it. Give me the danger. I’ll take it. I’m no lightweight.
Unbidden, the words pop into my brain.
I bite my lip against sudden tears.
I grab Cody’s butt and press into him. I pull him closer. He kisses me hard, liking my body language.
But when he moves to put his hands under my shirt, something in my core shifts. I feel sick, nauseated.
I put my hands over his to stop them. I think as fast as my beer-fuzzed brain will let me. I don’t want to offend or embarrass him, so I think about my words.
“Not here,” I say, nodding toward the others. I fake a smile and punch him lightly on the chest to soften my message.
I catch something in his eyes, and the signals in my gut go all weird. I don’t understand what I want. My heart is beating fast.
I want him to kiss me again. I want to be stupid.
Danger.
I lean forward again, but he just laughs.
“Let’s go.”
“Go?” I parrot.
“Yeah, let’s race.”
I blink. “What? Right now? I can’t drive like this.” If I’m not over the limit, then I’m definitely close to it. And I’m not even legal yet.
Cody stares at me for a moment, then shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He drops his hands and steps away from me. I watch as he takes a pull on the beer that’s in his hand. I can feel the chill coming off him.
I suddenly feel empty.
I stick around for a while and try to talk with him. But his answers get shorter and shorter. I go to talk with the other guys, but it’s obvious they don’t want to have much to do with me if Cody’s mad.
I’m angry that I’m making a mess of everything. Including my own brain.
I watch one more race, standing alone by Cody’s car.
Almost everybody has been eliminated from tonight’s showdown. Cody and Bibs will be the last race of the night.
Cody doesn’t even acknowledge me as he climbs into his seat and starts the engine.
Stumbling a bit from the beer, I leave.
Chapter Eleven
I shouldn’t go back down there. I feel stupid and small and embarrassed after last week’s disagreement with Cody. But I still want to race.
And—damn it—I want to see Cody. I feel like I disappointed him last week.
I take a few beers from the fridge and leave the house around midnight. Dad’s out at some meeting. I’m nervous about how Cody will treat me when I show up, so I pop the top on one of the bottles. It’ll take the edge off. That, and a bit of music. And maybe a smoke.
The early summer air feels warm on my face as I drive down to the stage. I park on the shoulder and wait. I take a wet wipe out of the packet I bought earlier in the week and scrub my fingers so Cody can’t smell the cigarette.
My mixed messages start up again. Maybe he won’t show up tonight. Maybe that would be a good thing. The guy’s got to take a day off every now and then, right?
Right.
I feel a mixture of fear and excitement when he pulls up. First car of the night.
He kills the engine and climbs out. Motions for me to do the same. And, like a robot, I do. He doesn’t even say hello, just grabs the back of my neck and presses his mouth against mine. My air leaves me in a sharp gasp and he leans into me against the side of my car, pressing his pelvis into me. I tip my head back, and he pushes his hands into my hair.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against my throat. “I missed you.” A shiver works its way from the bottom of my spine all the way out to my fingertips. His hands find their way under my shirt. I don’t try to stop him this time.
I’m no lightweight.
I lean into Cody, wanting to please him. He unbuttons my jeans and slips his hand inside, rough. But I can live with it. He likes it.
And that makes me happy.
I hardly notice when another car pulls up. But Cody does. He pulls back suddenly, leaving me to yank my shirt down over my unbuttoned pants in the glare of the other car’s headlights.
I turn my back. My hands shake as I quickly zip my jeans and button them. My face burns. Shame prickles in my throat.
Isn’t this what you wanted, Jenessa?
My head’s spinning, and I’ve only had one beer.
Cody goes around to the passenger side of his car and pulls out his cooler of beer. He throws one in my direction. I forget about trying to straighten my shirt and grab for the bottle. I don’t want it to hit the ground. Who knows how mad he’d be if I let that happen.
He laughs.
The night has begun.
Chapter Twelve
“Hey, Jenessa. How’s by you?”
My heart stops when I hear Dmitri’s voice. I didn’t check the caller id before picking up. I was assuming it’d be a telemarketer.
I figured Dmitri had given up on me. It’s been weeks since that night we parked. Weeks since I turned into a blubbering idiot in front of him.
“I’m…good,” I say. “Busy.” I pause. “Midterms and all.”
Dmitri laughs. The sound of it loosens something inside me. Releases a tightness in my chest that I didn’t even know was there.
“Yeah,” he says. “Exams suck. Studying hard?”
I pause. I bite my tongue against a sudden desire to tell him how sorry I am for blowing him off.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m almost through them now though.”
“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Maybe we can get out to the track yet.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Why does he have to be so goddamned friendly?
I glance at the clock. I’m due out at the stage in half an hour. Cody’s expecting me. I don’t want to be late.
The tightness returns.
I close my eyes and rub them with one hand. “Maybe,” I answer.
I know I’m blowing Dmitri off again. It’s so rude. I’m angry with myself. With him for calling me. For making me be mean to him.
I want to throw something.
I force myself to take a deep breath. “Dmitri,” I say.
He doesn’t wait for me. “I haven’t seen you around much,” he says. His voice is quieter, serious. “Actually, I haven’t seen you around at all.”
The doorbell rings. Probably the wilderness people raising funds again for that pipeline ban. I grab a twenty-dollar bill off the counter.
Oil baron to the rescue, I think, and almost smile.
I swipe my hair back behind my shoulder and walk toward the front entrance.
“You still drinking Americanos?” Dmitri’s asking me.
Weird question. “Uhmm…,” I say, opening the door.
And there he is. Standing right in front of me, on my doorstep. Smiling, his phone up to his ear.
The phone slips right out of my hand. It bounces off my leg and lands on the rug.
Dmitri closes his phone and slides it into his pocket. Looks at the money in my hand.
“Oh. You don’t have to pay me for it,” he says. He winks and holds out one of the two cups he’s hold
ing. “It’s on me. Extra hot, just like you take it.”
I smile. But then I remember that I’m not supposed to want to see him. My smile morphs into a weird sort of grimace.
I reach for the cup to save him from looking dumb. His fingers brush mine, and I end up snatching the cup from his hand.
My next words make me seem like even more of a bitch.
“Listen,” I say. “I gotta run. I’m sorry. I have to be somewhere in a few minutes.”
God, you haven’t even said hello. Or thanked him for the coffee. Could you maybe be just a little bit ruder?
A shadow of disappointment crosses Dmitri’s face, but his recovery is gracious. “Need a lift?”
I glance over his shoulder at the Camaro parked at the end of my driveway. My tummy does a little loopy thing when I see it. I think about driving with Dmitri. Kissing him.
Bawling my eyes out in front of him.
Telling him everything.
I look back at him. “No. I’ll be needing my own car tonight.” My tone is sharper than I mean it to be, but maybe it’s just as well. I just want him to go away and forget about me.
So that I can forget about him.
Dmitri’s face doesn’t register any emotion. “You’re racing,” he says. It’s not a question.
“Maybe I am.”
He looks away for a second, then back at me. “That’s dangerous stuff, Jenessa. I told you, people get killed doing that.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes his mistake.
I swallow.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He looks down. “I’m sorry. I just…I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Pretty hard not to with the idiots who’re running that show,” he says.
“I know those guys.”
My eyes narrow. He never told me that before.
And it bothers me that he’s dissing Cody and his friends.
It also bothers me that he’s right.
My mixed-up feelings make me even angrier. “I happen to like them,” I say. “What, did they kick you out or something?”
He shakes his head.
“Said you were too wholesome, maybe?” I snap.
Dmitri stares at me.
“Oh, I know,” I say, tilting my head to the side and looking at him. “You were too chicken to run with them, weren’t you, Dmitri?” Boy, I’m on a roll now. Jackknife Jenessa, right in your face. “Little too safety-oriented, should we say?”
This finally punctures his cool veneer. Anger flickers in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak. His eyes meet mine and hold me there for a few seconds. Then he looks down at the cup in his hands. He releases a long breath.
When he looks back at me, his eyes are almost calm.
“Right,” he says. “Well, have a good night then.”
I watch, my throat aching, as he walks down the driveway and gets into his car.
Don’t go, Dmitri. Come back.
The words are in my head, but I can’t get them into my mouth.
I’m sorry.
He starts the Camaro up. Steers it out of the cul-de-sac without looking back. I wait for the sound of his engine to disappear before closing the door.
I jam my feet into my flip-flops and grab a hoodie. Snatch my keys off the hook.
I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror for a long time. Then I give it the finger.
And then I throw my extra-hot Americano at it.
I slam the door behind me, leaving the coffee to drip like dark tears.
Chapter Thirteen
A couple of weeks later, I’ve raced a few times. Tires squealing, engines throbbing, hands sweating on the wheel. I take on the whole gang, one by one, and even though they dust me every time, I have fun. The guys are generous with their encouragement.
Most of them.
I’m standing with Cody on a warm night in May, pleasantly buzzed off a few beers. I’m trying not to think about the fact that Dmitri had suggested I go to the track with him this weekend to kick off the drag season.
We’re late getting started tonight. Everyone’s enjoying themselves, talking and drinking. Cody’s running his hand up and down my back under my shirt. He’s in a good mood tonight.
He tosses his empty into the cooler and looks at me, his eyes glittering. “You’re up,” he grins. “First race tonight.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No way,” I say, pointing to my stomach. “Too many beers in this belly. I gotta wait awhile.”
He ignores my words. Instead, he leans over and puts his mouth to my ear. His breath tickles when he whispers, “Let’s show these pussies what you’re really made of. Just me and you. Pull it out and show them how kick-ass you are.”
I feel a glow that he thinks I’m good. But I don’t want to race right now. I’m drunk.
I smile and turn to kiss him. “Don’t want a DUI, thanks,” I tease.
He pulls back and looks around. “I don’t see any pigs here. Do you?”
I glance around us. A few cars have passed, but that was a while ago. No one’s on the road now. The lookout would have signaled, anyway, if he’d seen cops.
“Nope. No pigs.” But I still don’t want to get behind the wheel.
And I have a feeling he isn’t going to make it easy for me.
I scramble for a way to handle this before it gets heavy. “You go, babe. I want to watch you race Rishad now that he’s turbocharged his engine.” I lay on a bit of flattery to sweeten my rejection. “You’ll still punk his ass.”
Cody stiffens, and I know the conversation’s headed the wrong way. He raises his voice. “I said, I don’t see any cops,” he says. He addresses the group standing over Rishad’s car. “Any of you guys see any police out here tonight? Huh?” He squeals loudly, startling me. “See any pigs?”
“No pigs, boss,” says Mark quickly. “We’re clear.”
Cody looks back at me. His mouth is turned up at one corner. His voice is soft. My stomach twists. I don’t like it when he talks this way. Usually it means something is about to happen. Last week he talked like this just before he pushed me. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, except I was standing on the edge of the shoulder, where the ditch dropped off behind me. So when he shoved me, I lost my balance and fell backward and hit my head. It wasn’t so bad. I only got a couple of scratches from the rocks. And my goose egg was mostly gone by the next morning. It took me a second to get up after he’d pushed me though, and I could see that made him angrier. It took a bit of work to chill him out again.
He’s been in a good space for most of the night tonight. I don’t want to mess it up by arguing.
So I nod. “No police?” I fake a smile. “Then you’re on, big guy.”
Danger.
As I get behind the wheel, I send up a silent prayer. I kick off my flip-flops and throw them into the backseat. Cody pulls up to the line beside me. Revs his engine. He grins at me, and I force another smile. Bibs gives the signal, and we take off, squealing and roaring. As soon as the car’s in motion, I relax. This isn’t so bad, after all. Alcohol or no, I know what I’m doing. I’ll never win against Cody, but that’s no reason I can’t give him a run for his money.
When I hit third gear, I look over to find him grinning. I stick my tongue out at him and punch it, jumping forward and putting a car length between us. Then more.
I glance in the rearview mirror to check Cody’s position. My heart drops.
Flashing red and blue. Where did they come from? What the hell was the lookout doing?
I watch in horror as the police cruiser roars up and out of the ditch in a spray of rocks, dirt…and branches. Camouflage. They were waiting for this.
Instinctively, I downshift and jam the pedal to the floor.
I’m no lightweight.
I laugh crazily. I glance in the mirror again, terrorized and yet supercharged. Sharpened.
But I feel sick at what I see next. Cody’s d
ropped back. Way back. I watch, unbelieving, as he kills his lights and turns around so he’s heading the other way. Back in the direction we came from. My breath sticks in my throat.
The prick’s leaving me out here to deal with this on my own.
I hammer. I’ve never driven so fast in my life. But I’ve never been chased. either. If I was thinking straight, I’d have stopped as soon as I saw the cop car and taken the rap. But I’m not thinking straight. And it’s too late to stop now.
I don’t know where I’m going. I just need to get away.
My pulse races as I fly down the empty highway. The cop’s turned on his siren now. I can hear it over the wind and the engine. It fills my ears and pumps my body full of adrenaline. My hands are slick on the wheel. I want to look and see how fast I’m going, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the road. If I get caught, I’m done. Not only am I speeding, but I’ve been drinking. And I’m only sixteen.
My father will kill me. He’ll take my car away.
Then I’ll die for sure.
Exit signs whip past. I make a split-second decision, tearing off the main highway and onto a ramp. I let off the gas and downshift before I hit the curve, forcing the engine to slow the wheels. My tires shriek as we squall around the corner. I fishtail coming out of the turn. I let off the gas for a second to get the tires back under me.
There’s another exit up ahead, and I gun for it. The cops are still behind me, but the ramp slowed them down. I charge toward the next set of ramps and peel myself off onto a smaller road. Yellow dotted lines flash past.
Juice it, baby. Go.
The car responds, growling as I punch through the gears, trying to put as much distance as I can between me and the squad car.
I don’t know how long I drive like this. The road narrows. No more yellow lines. Just black asphalt.
My rearview tells me the cops have let it go. They don’t want some stupid kid killing herself just because they gave chase. They usually back off if they can’t catch their target. That way, they don’t cause any accidents.
Innocent people get killed.
Something inside me cracks when I hear Dmitri’s words. My eyes blur, and I take a big breath.
