Dangerous Curves
Page 5
Not that his reasons mattered. She wouldn’t have any part of this scheme to fix the unfixable. Sellars was broken. Why, only Sellars knew. Why, Lacy didn’t give a shit. But for sure, she wouldn’t be participating.
“You may have to cut your aunt some slack on the fees, Miss Gabby.” Sellars stepped beside Gabby and draped her arm across her shoulder. “She just turned down a babysitting job. A six-figure babysitting job. Five big ones, to be exact.”
“She did?” Gabby’s brow creased.
“She sure did.” Sellars gave a firm nod.
Lacy cocked her head, freezing her poker face. Her heart somersaulted.
“Before you say another word,” Gabby tapped the swear jar harder, “I insist someone show me the money.”
The fact that she’d just turned down a job that would pay her bills for life, or that could put her little project into motion, wasn’t what rubbed her the wrong way.
It was Sellars’s gesture that set Lacy on edge. That little “This is my buddy right here” gesture. Gabby was a smart kid. Smart-assed and extremely opinionated. The fact that she’d taken up with such a worthless human being didn’t sit well in the pit of her stomach.
Not to mention that the sound five hundred thousand dollars made rolling off Sellars’s tongue, had goose bumps threatening under her skin.
“I guess that means your aunt won’t be able to buy herself a brand new attitude,” Sellars added with a smirk.
Gabby’s eyes widened and she thrust the jar toward Lacy. “I’m going to get so rich this month.” She sucked her teeth together, slowly drew her cheeks back, and gave the signature Gabby smile.
Normally, that smile would be contagious. Normally, Lacy would burst into a laughing fit at how Gabby could break a mad spell with that corny smile. Not this time. Not with her mind replaying the dollar figure. Not with Sellars’s arm draped around Gabby’s shoulder like they were pals. As if Gabby could adore such a dimwit. And not with anger taking root. Not a fat fucking chance.
The laugh came out of Lacy’s mouth before she knew it had formed.
“Gabby, you need to go upstairs!” Billy said, his sights locked on Lacy.
“Daddy! I’m about to earn enough money to buy all my Christmas presents in a single hour. I can’t leave yet.”
“Now, Gabby.” He pointed toward the stairs.
Lacy continued to laugh, hearing the evil sound echoing back on her ears.
Gabby huffed and shoved the jar into Sellars’s hands. “Make sure she pays up. Your Christmas present depends on it. Understand?” She dropped off the stool and hugged Lacy, which silenced the laughter even though the anger was still bubbling. “I love you past infinity, Aunt Lacy. But I expect money to be in that jar when I get up in the morning. We’re going to spend the weekend with Grandma, and you know how much shopping she can do in a single day.”
Gabby raced up the stairs while Lacy leveled her gaze on Sellars.
She started counting backward from ten, a lesson Gabby promised would solve some of Lacy’s quick-tongued responses. As always, it was utter failure.
Ten…ni—
“Money can’t buy a new fucking attitude anymore than it can buy you a goddamn conscious. You may have pulled the wool over that precious baby’s eyes”—Lacy jabbed her finger toward the staircase where Gabby had just disappeared—“but you sure as fuck can’t pull it over mine.” Lacy took several steps toward Sellars, regretting the decision as soon as she saw that smirk transform into a heated smile. “And with the devil as my witness, if you even so much as put a fucking frown on her face, I will track you down like a rabid dog, yank that shit you call a head clean off your shoulders, and pull your blackened heart out through your fucking throat. Bank on that!”
Sellars’s smile widened as she slowly pushed the swear jar toward Lacy. “I have no idea how much those f-bombs are worth, but I think you just bought us all Christmas presents.”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay, you two.” Billy took a timid step toward them. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Lacy tagged a death glare on him. “Oh, now you found your fucking tongue? Couldn’t you have found it hours ago when you told me you had a little photography job for me?”
“That’s no way to talk to your best friend.” Sellars mockingly tapped the lid. “But Gabby will appreciate it.”
Lacy jerked the jar from Sellars’s grasp. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like back to hell where you came from?”
“I think hell is where you came from. Didn’t you say the devil was your witness?” Sellars winked.
Lacy stepped forward, teeth grinding, unsure exactly why she was so pissed off or why she felt the need to lash out. So what if Sellars liked sabotaging her own career? So what if she liked stirring the pot with the other racers because she couldn’t keep her dick in her pants? What did it matter to Lacy what Sellars did with her life?
Because she’d made a little girl, her little girl, her Gabby, her little smart-ass twin, adore her. That’s why. And she was mad at Billy for allowing it. Inviting it.
Billy stepped forward and defensively held up his hands. “Stop. Both of you. Just stop!”
“Little late for that, wouldn’t you say?” Lacy backed a step away from Sellars, hating that she liked the way Sellars smelled.
She had a musky scent to her. And she smelled like gasoline. She reminded Lacy of a past she could never have again. Being in the pit with the race car drivers and their crews. The aroma of oil and fuel all around her. Snapping their pics and adoring their fun banter. She missed those days. Missed being able to support Billy.
Now, all she could do was sneak a few paragraphs from the tabloids in a grocery store checkout line, grab a few minutes of the news, before those horrible images of death snaked their way inside.
Why did she have to be the one? The one to capture someone’s death. Doug’s death, of all people? To be accused of selling those photos to the highest bidder, as if she could ever stoop so low.
She’d loved that man. Adored his wife and children.
“I think you need to hear her out, Lacy,” Billy said, yanking Lacy out of the memories.
“I don’t need to hear a single word to know this bitch is a worthless cause.” Lacy swung her gaze back on Sellars. “We both know no dollar amount will fix her. Her career crashed and burned in a fucking smoke-filled nightclub with another racer’s wife on the tip of that tongue.”
Sellars offered a smile that sent heat gathering between Lacy’s thighs. “You know, I’m standing right here. You don’t have to say her like I can’t hear you.” She cocked her head and gave a wink. “And don’t fret, sexy. There’s enough of me to go around if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Over my dead, goddamn body.”
Sellars winked again and Lacy resisted rushing at her. She’d never disliked someone so much in her life. Dislike that was running a dangerous parallel path alongside twisted need. Her crotch was a wet mess while her mind was screaming obscenities.
“Sellars, can you please just explain it to her?” Billy pleaded.
Lacy crossed her arms. Truth was, she wanted to hear this answer. She needed to know who thought Sellars was worth five hundred grand. Someone wanted to save her and was willing to pay a pretty penny to see that she didn’t self-destruct. The answer should be interesting. Also, if she was going to be honest with herself, she needed that money. That chunk of cash would help her quit the dead-end career she’d shoved herself into, would give her the funds to pack up and move to Pittsburgh where she knew she belonged, and put her close to this beloved family.
“Please. Waste some more of my time.” Lacy arched a brow.
“Okay. My sponsor wants to pay you to follow me around to events, snap some bullcrap photos, and then tag them to social media in hopes of revamping my fan base.”
“Pfft. As if you ever had a fan base.”
“Lacy,” Billy warned her.
Sellars shrugged. “
What can I say? Some people like my drama.”
“So what’s the catch?” Lacy looked between them. “You’re not worth that kind of money. Especially since your dumbass has already nosedived tonight. Didn’t we pick you up from jail?”
Sellars looked away. “I’m sure my sponsor will take care of it. He always does.”
Lacy cut her gaze to Billy who shook his head, warning her once again. Sucked that she couldn’t be warned out of bad behavior either.
“So no accountability for your actions. That explains a lot.”
“To save from more arguing,” Billy said, “why don’t you go with Sellars to the sponsor meeting in the morning and then make a decision.”
“I don’t see the point, but sure. I have some old friends to visit in town anyway.” Lacy grabbed her bag and took a step toward the stairs.
“Wrong way, sexy.” Sellars walked around her. “The spare room is mine for now.”
Lacy swung around to stare at Billy who looked like someone trapped in the headlight of an oncoming train. “You’re going to stick me in the man cave? Why can’t you stick her ass down there so she can come and go with her trashy sluts at will?”
“Speaking of trashy. Are those your dental floss thongs in the dresser?” Sellars took in a deliberate deep breath, then she winked and started up the stairs. “See you at sunrise, ice princess.”
Once again, Lacy was left to fume. She turned a shocked glare on Billy.
“Kip Sellars? The spiraling out of control, fuck everything on two legs, famous street racing thug, NASCAR rookie everyone loves to hate because she likes their wives, a lot? Think you could have given me a heads-up?”
Billy gave her that pitiful frown that used to melt girls’ hearts, then shrugged. “I love you.”
“Screw you.” Lacy snatched the handle of her luggage and headed for the basement.
“I love you!” Billy blurted.
Lacy flipped him a bird over her shoulder. “Sit and spin, assface.”
“You love me and you know it,” Billy said as she reached the basement door.
“Of course I do. It’s the only reason you’re still breathing.” Lacy turned the handle of the basement door.
“You’ll take the job, won’t you?” Billy asked before she started down the steps.
“Of course I’ll take the job. How else will I buy myself a new attitude?”
Lacy heard the loud clap of his hand as she slammed the door behind her.
Chapter Five
Lacy stepped out of the man cave and found the great room and kitchen empty. Perfect. She needed coffee before she had to face Sellars once again. Before she had to endure that delicious spice one more time. Before she had to endure that “you have met your match” smirk that seemed to be a permanent expression on Sellars’s face.
Fact was, she hadn’t met too many people who could take her, let alone match her. And positively none had ever attempted to one-up her. Sellars was proving she wasn’t going to lie down and allow Lacy to walk all over her, although walking on her wasn’t quite what she’d envisioned half the night in her fitful sleep.
She admired that about Sellars. That she wouldn’t let anyone get the upper hand. Though that trait wasn’t going to make Lacy play nice. Not even the notion of being paid handsomely would make her alter her extreme dislike for Kip Sellars.
But the money sure would make her tolerate just a little bit more. She’d tossed and turned all night, dollar figures and plans and the possibility of a new beginning that would bloom from this paycheck, dancing in her mind. Excitement had overruled her need for sleep.
To take that excitement to another level, she’d started texting Patrick, her best gay friend on the opposite side of the map, at two in the morning to vent about Sellars and to tell him that their pet project could possibly be taken to another level if everything fell into place. That is, if she didn’t kill Sellars first.
She’d met Patrick at one of the many homeless shelters in LA and soon learned that they shared the same interest in the homeless. In their well-being. Of making sure they got a hot meal several times a week. They visited the shelters often to just hang out, talk to them, to treat them like they weren’t walking the streets looking for a handout because something in their life had knocked them to their knees. Her passion for photography had quickly come into play, starting by capturing them in their surroundings, later by letting them be the photographer by taking the disposable cameras she and Patrick provided to those interested.
She’d been shocked at what they brought back, what she and Patrick developed. The heart, the center of their world. Their hiding spots. Their raw, unfiltered lives. The lives that no one could ever imagine. Beneath bridges, in abandoned buildings, in makeshift houses constructed of cardboard, sometimes tents or tarps, they were hidden in plain sight.
Lacy and Patrick had been so moved, so in awe of their pictures, they’d handed out more cameras. She even paid them for their troubles and now, two years later, they had photo albums full, more framed in their homes, with so many more she would love to show the world.
The money to babysit a misfit could make the project happen. Those remarkable photos could adorn art galleries across the world, drawing in the funds needed to broaden the plans. This project could go global. Could help so many who truly wanted to make a change, who couldn’t seem to catch a break.
With a mug of coffee in her hand, Lacy pulled herself onto a stool, determined to play nice today. If she had to bite her tongue to get that money, she would find a way.
Actually, that had been Patrick’s demand. For Lacy to play nice. Which he knew was a job all by itself.
Something caught her attention, and she turned to find a white sock dancing around the wall of the stairs, spinning like a Terrible Towel at a Steelers football game.
She couldn’t help but smile at Billy’s silly call for a truce. God, how she loved that man.
“There better be diamond earrings in that sock if you want to be forgiven this soon.”
Billy stuck his head around the wall. “You hate diamonds and all things that glitter.”
“Yeah. True.” She gave him a wink of forgiveness.
He descended the stairs at the same time the front door opened and Sellars stepped inside. Lacy’s anger spiked for a split second and then slowly turned to that unfamiliar emotion of hatred and balled up need as she took in Sellars’s sweaty face and neck, black smudge marks on her cheeks and hands, and dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and too tight T-shirt. Her hair was a dark, sexy mess. No wonder mature women with name-branded husbands had been unable to turn down such a delicious invitation.
Footsteps vibrated down the stairs, and two seconds later, Gabby vaulted over the bottom rail. “Neither of you are allowed to speak to each other until you pay the swear jar!” She looked between them, jar out like a homeless person’s cup. “My shopping trip is paid for after last night’s blowout. Thank you, Aunt Lacy. So today I’ll work on a complete new wardrobe. Mine is getting a little out of style,” she ended with a grin.
Lacy couldn’t take her eyes off Sellars. The fact that she was so turned on twisted her mood even more sour. There wasn’t a single thing she wanted to admire about this train wreck. Not even that tight body. Or that slick skin. Or those lean legs. Or the six-pack detailed through the fabric of her shirt.
Nothing. Not a fucking thing. But damn if she could spread the emotions apart.
“Give me ten minutes to shower off this grunge and we’ll be on our way.” Sellars darted up the stairs.
“That’s it?” Gabby asked. “Did you guys kiss and make up after I went to bed?” She thrust the jar out to Lacy.
Lacy dug in the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a twenty. She folded it and shoved it into the slot of the lid. “Not a fat fucking chance in hell, you beautiful soul, you.”
“Whew. Thought I was going to have to dip into my savings.” Gabby strolled into the kitchen and pulled a box of cereal out of the cabinet.
“You ready?” Sellars dangled the keys. “My car was delivered this morning from the impound lot.”
“Let me guess.” Lacy took a long sip of her coffee, trying to breathe back the triggered hot flash, hating that her insides were clamped tight, and set the mug on the counter. She slid off the stool to stare up into those eyes. “Some kind of slick muscle car.” With a casual inspection, she let her gaze drop down Sellars’s body. Her insides tightened again. “No doubt, a classic pony, likely a Camaro, some old sleek super sport, probably a convertible, because a piece of—”
“Swear jar!” Gabby said.
Without looking away, Lacy dug into her pants pocket and pulled out another bill. She tossed it onto the counter and stuck her hand back into the pocket.
“—shit like you thinks a car is nothing more than a pussy magnet. An egotistical dickweed like you would drive nothing other than something that would draw all the attention her way.” Lacy withdrew another bill and slapped it on the counter, her anger notching as Sellars’s brow arched with humor. “So let’s get one thing straight, fuckface. Cars don’t turn me on.” She took another step toward Sellars, dug another bill out of her pocket, and tossed it with the others. “And women who drive them, disgust the ever loving need to fuck right out of me.”
Sellars looked over at Billy, then slowly cut her sights to Gabby before landing looking back to Lacy. “In Pittsburgh, when someone dangles the keys, it means they’re offering to be the chauffeur. Sorry if you confused the shiny round metal for a proposal,” she bent down and whispered, “there’s only one reason I get on bended knee.” She winked, then turned and started for the front door. “I’ll be in the car waiting.”