by Anne Hansen
Plus it felt disloyal to my father and my car.
“Your father is obviously a fine man,” Red says, approval in his voice and the raise of his brows. “But the real question is, did he teach you how to drive it?”
“I learned to drive on my ma’s old Corolla when I was about ten,” I tell him. “I’ve been driving since I could sit behind the wheel.”
When he looks at me, his eyes twinkle. “Oh, I’m sure you have. But you’ve been driving cars with all the fancy bells and whistles, all the factory set computer chip bullshit. This is a hemi, man. Do you have any idea how to handle this gorgeous piece of machinery?”
I open my mouth to answer, but he interrupts me. “I know the answer from the look on your face. Bet you have a real hard time handling all kinds of beautiful things. I’m willing to bet that’s why Keira isn’t here helping you herself. Alright, alright, lose the tough guy scowl and give her a call.”
“Keira?” I’ve faced cops, jail time, criminal behavior that runs the full spectrum, but none of it made me feel like I was losing my mind the way facing Keira does.
“Yeah, Keira.” He holds his hand out, palm down. “About yay tall, long dark hair, big blue eyes, way too good to waste her time with the likes of two dogs like us. Good thing that girl was born with a heart of gold. Dial her up.”
“She…we’ve had a rough…we’re—”
“Dammit, son, if you’re looking for easy and nice, look somewhere else. This whole thing is gonna be tough and terrible. You want to win it, we need her. Now dial her up and let’s get a move on.” Before I can protest again, a big, shiny truck pulls up and a huge guy with a neck the size of one of my thighs gets out.
“Dude, call her,” Leo hisses. “These guys are no joke. That’s Louie Marsal. He’s like an engine guru. If he works on your car, you’re gonna be golden. You need to listen to Red. Call her. Now.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise and hang up the phone.
Damn.
I’m not supposed to go anywhere near Red or Vin. As ridiculous as my father’s rules are, I’m trying hard to respect them. Things have been extra strained between my father and me, and I don’t want it that way. I figured Red might want to see me, but I hoped it would be in a few days, when Dad finally had a chance to settle down and be more reasonable.
As it is, Dad is home, he’s going to ask where I’m headed, and I don’t feel like lying.
I also don’t feel like arguing.
I run a brush through my hair, put on a fresh coat of lipstick, grab my jacket, and walk out to the dining room. Even though Dad’s boss sent everyone home to relax and think about the deal they might get offered, Dad has spreadsheets and graphs littered all over the table. He’s not good at just sitting back and letting things happen. He likes to keep hyper busy and forge his own destiny.
He actually likes to forge the destiny of everyone he cares about. Which is why I’m standing in front of him, about to defy one of his well-intentioned but stupid rules.
“Dad, I need to talk to you.”
“Going out, hon?” he asks, looking up over his glasses distractedly. “Are Lily and David doing that whole Rocky Horror Picture Show thing at the Marvel Theater downtown?”
“Actually they are,” I say, blushing when I remember the teeny tiny outfit David made me try on in hopes it would convince me to come with him and Lily. It was fun wearing it in Lily’s room, but the idea of prancing around in front of an entire audience made my blood run cold. Lily and David were extremely disappointed, but there was just no way.
“Well, bring some toast and a water pistol. Oh and here.” Dad hands me a folded up Wall Street Journal and winks. “David and Lily will fill you in.”
I hand the paper back to him. “Thank you, but I’m not going to the theater.”
“No?” Dad takes his glasses off and leans back like he’s preparing for a battle.
“Red would like me to come by and offer a hand.” I hold my breath. There are so many things about this Dad won’t approve of, and I can’t say I’m shocked. Racing is never exactly safe, and Red likes to push the limits.
Pushing the limits is the only way to feel truly alive. It’s like I can hear Mom’s voice in the room, clear and loud.
“We’ve talked about this, Keira.” Dad looks down at his paperwork like he’s done discussing the matter, but there’s a distractedness to the way he shuffles through things. “I’m sorry you don’t agree, but this isn’t up for discussion.”
I take a huge breath and forge on.
“You’re right. I don’t agree.” I wait for Dad to look up. “I know you don’t approve of things in my life, just like you didn’t always approve of things in Mom’s. But it’s my life, Dad. I never want to disrespect you, but I can’t back down on this one.”
He stands up and shakes his head. “I’m setting parameters because I care about you. Your safety means everything to me. That’s why the answer is ‘no,’ and I’m not budging on that.”
“No offense, Dad, but you can’t tell me that.” I walk to the door, feeling like my feet are weighed down with lead.
“Keira, I’m not kidding,” Dad says, raising his voice.
I hold my hand on the doorknob and turn. “I’m not either. This is important. The people who asked for my help care about me as much as you do. I can’t let them down. I’m sorry. I really am. But I’m going.”
“Your mother would not approve,” he says, his voice hard and sharp as the blade of a knife.
I press one hand to the painted door and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. “You’re wrong. I know Mom would be proud of me,” I say, hoping it’s the truth. “And it hurts that you’d use her against me like that.”
“Keira—”
I try to block out the look of anger and disappointment that shadows my father’s face as I walk away from him, openly defying his rules for the first time in my life. I guess that makes me a rebel. It doesn’t feel nearly as cool as the movies make it out to be.
I head to my truck, my hand shaking so badly I can hardly fit the key in the lock.
I wish things had been easier. I wish it didn’t come down to choosing Vin and Red over my father, but that was his call, and it was manipulative.
I love my father, but I have to make decisions I can live with, and that means trusting my gut.
Which is something I haven’t done in a long time and need to start doing again.
***
“We’ve got Louie working the metal, and I can give Vin all the training I’ve got in my magic sack, but I don’t know how he is mentally.”
Red has taken me aside and talks as quietly as he’s capable of. It would be easy for Vin to overhear if it wasn’t for the screech and grind of the mechanics in Louie’s shop, who are giving Vin’s sleek white Mustang a total once-over.
“I think he’s fine,” I say, trying not to look at Vin for the thousandth time. He’s standing across the room in a dark gray t-shirt and dark jeans, a black hoodie unzipped, the hood up, and a pair of combat boots. He looks a little tough and a whole lot sexy. I want him in a way I’ve never wanted anything else before. “You know he was a car thief. He’s used to high stress.”
“That’s just the problem.” Red runs both hands through his wiry hair. “He’s overthinking every damn thing. It’s like his mind is going a thousand directions all at once, and it’s getting in the way of his driving. Plus that, I’m not sure he knows how to love it.”
“How to love it?” I ask, grinning. “Red, Vin loves cars. And who doesn’t love going fast?”
He chuckles. “Makes no sense to a kid like you, cause you got racing in your blood. But some don’t go for speed. Some prefer control. You gotta ride the line between keeping your head on and letting your gut take over. I never saw anyone ride it better than you. See if you can inspire him.”
“I may just be a bigger distraction,” I warn.
Red shrugs. “I’ve seen him race a few runs, and I know where I c
an take him. But I can only do as well as the raw goods I’m given. If we want him to drive the best he can—and you know even that may not be good enough—we need to up our game. That means we need you, Keira.”
I nod, and Vin’s green eyes laser in on me from across the room. It feels like he sucks the breath out of my lungs with one long, hot look.
“Okay.”
“By the way, how’d you get your old man’s permission?” Red asks with a little too much glee in his voice.
“We’ve agreed to disagree,” I tell him.
I hope. I’m not sure what my father’s going to say when I walk back into the apartment, but I can’t focus on that right now.
The impish grin fades off Red’s face. “If you need to go ahead back home, I can help Vin. I don’t want to mess things up between you and your dad. I know he doesn’t have a particular fondness for me, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Man’s got more caution than I think is necessary…but most people would say I should be more careful than I am.”
“No, Red, it’s fine,” I reassure him. “My father and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately, and I needed to draw the line somewhere. I might as well stop putting off the inevitable. What do you want me to do?”
“Test run would be a good idea, I think,” Red suggests.
I look over at his Mustang, the hood popped and pieces of motor lying on Louie’s shop floor. “Um, I don’t think anyone will be driving that for a while.”
“Good thing I brought something nice and fast you can use while we wait on the Mustang.” Red points, and I feel my throat go dry.
A 1968 Dodge Dart. Fast as hell, sleek, and jet black.
“Mom had a soft spot for Darts,” I sigh, running my fingers over the paint, smooth as glass and polished to a high shine. “It was our dream cruising car. We were going to make a road trip to the Pacific after I graduated high school, and she wanted to rent one.”
I look up and see Vin’s moved closer, close enough he can overhear my sad little tale. It’s one thing to reminisce with Red. He was there when my mother was born and he stood at her graveside when she died; he’s family. I’m not ready to open up like that to Vin again.
I snap back to business. “Red, if I popped this hood would I see—”
“Darlin,’ you know what you’d see,” Red says, puffing his chest up with pride.
I lift the hood and draw a breath in. “Hemi,” I whisper.
“Mighta been your mama’s favorite word in the world,” Red says. “And I’m sure it was one of your first words.”
I close the hood and crook my finger at Vin. “Let’s drive.”
“Right now?” he asks, but I’m already opening the door, sliding into the black leather driver’s set, circling my fingers around the wheel.
“Right now,” I say before I slam the door shut. Vin jogs to the passenger side and gets in.
“Where to?” he asks.
“You must know some stretches where we can drive fast without getting caught.”
“Follow 37 West till you get to 35 South. Take it all the way to a community called Piper’s Point. It’s a development that was in the process of being built when the last hurricane hit. There’s a good stretch of asphalt that didn’t get washed away.” I can feel him watching me as I pull out.
I roll my window down a few inches. “You mind? I know it’s a little cool tonight.”
“I’m okay if you are.” He rolls his down too. “Some fresh air is probably a good idea for us.”
I’m not sure what he means. That we need to clear the air? That we need the dry equivalent of a cold shower when we’re confined in a small space together? I decide not to ask. It’s too complicated to figure out, and we have other things to focus on right now.
“You doing okay in pre-calc?” Vin asks, his eyes trained on the side window.
I’m thrown by that question. “Not exactly. How about you? Doing alright with Hemingway?”
“I like it less than Gatsby, but I understand it more, if that makes sense.” When I don’t say anything right away, he explains, “The whole guy with this things he’s gotta get done, even if things get crazy? I get that. Makes me glad I’m not a fisherman.”
I laugh. “I hear that. Well, if you need help…”
What? What exactly am I offering?
“Same goes for you.” He clears his throat. “I still have ninth free. And I’m willing to come by your place if you need.” He rushes to add, “Just for studying,” when I turn my head to glance at him.
“Thanks.”
We both keep our mouths shut until I pull in at the shell development far from any other houses. This was clearly going to be a super exclusive community. The framework and stilts that didn’t get washed away by gale force winds are huge. These would have been gorgeous homes, right by the crash of the ocean waves, so beautiful, but so dangerous when the storms roll in.
As it is, there are no homes—there’s just the black strip of road, clear across the flat land and perfect for speed.
“Red says you’re having problems?” I hold tight to the steering wheel.
“You raced with your mom?” Vin asks.
I bite my bottom lip hard. It’s not easy being behind the wheel of this car, Red’s car, knowing how much my mother would have loved it. It’s even harder knowing my father may be sitting at home furious with me. I’m doing this to help Vin because he helped me when I needed it.
But I need to establish some boundaries. I wish I didn’t, but I do, to protect myself.
“Let’s just say I know my way behind the wheel of a fast car.” I look over at him. “Red says you’re doing okay handling the mechanics, but you’re having a, uh, mental block?”
“Mental block?” he scoffs, crossing his arms. “I don’t have a mental block.”
“Okay. So what’s the problem?” I look over at him and try to ignore the fact that he looks so damn good sitting there, it’s tempting, out here, alone in the moonlight…
“There is no problem. I’m doing fine,” Vin insists.
Like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.
I feel my temper simmer. “Right. Well, your time isn’t good enough to impress Red. That’s doesn’t necessarily mean it’s awful; Red’s not that easy to impress. But if it’s not good enough for Red, I’m willing to bet it’s not good enough to win.” I watch him purse his lips, waiting for him to tell me what’s up. When he doesn’t, I shake my head. “Look, I argued with my father to come out here tonight.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that.” He uncrosses his arms. For a single second, I think he’s going to reach out and touch me, and my entire body tingles with anticipation.
But he stays on his side of the car.
“Well I did. And I don’t regret it, but I need you to work with me.”
I roll down the window the rest of the way and look at the stars speckling the night sky. I breathe the air deep because, yes, I need the fresh air. I also need something else to focus on.
Something that’s not my seriously good-looking ex.
“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong. I think about everything that could happen, everything that’s going on. I feel like I don’t miss a single detail.” He shrugs. “It’s exactly what I did when I sto—when I worked for Gio.”
“And there’s your problem.” I nod for him to get out of the car. He does and we both walk to the edge of the road, to the place where this development got started but never finished. “Do you feel that?”
“What?” he asks.
The wind blows against us both, so strong it nearly knocks us back. “That.”
“The wind?”
“Yes, Vin, the wind. Put your arms out.” I watch and wait until he does it. “Close your eyes.” I sigh. “Close them!” I double-check before I go on. “Now let go. Let the wind move around you. Feel its power. Be aware.”
For a few long minutes, we just stand, the wind whipping and flying around us. Finally Vin looks
sideways at me and smiles, and my heart skitters around in my chest like a chased rabbit
. “Okay, sensei. I am aware of the wind. Are you gonna make me catch a fly with chopsticks too?”
“No.” I grin back at him, then close my eyes and put my hands out at my sides. “I’m going to remind you that you can’t get trapped in your own head. You have to be strong, mentally, to race, but there’s an element that’s totally unpredictable. Tons of races come down to luck. And heart. And guts. You can’t plan your race. You have to feel it.”
“How do you do that?” He steps closer and his body blocks the wind. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it’s as intense as standing next to a roaring campfire.
I swallow hard and try to keep my cool. “Ah. See, there’s the problem. You can only feel it when you let go.”
He shrugs. “Sounds easy enough.”
He takes a step toward me.
Another.
I back up quickly, almost stumbling over an uneven piece of pavement. Vin catches me under my arm, and the feel of his hands on my body makes chills course through me.
“Careful,” he says, catching me close until I regain balance.
“Thanks,” I murmur, pulling away. “So, right. You think letting go will be ‘easy enough.’ Let’s see if you’re right,” I say, channeling all the badass swagger I have in me as I saunter—carefully—back to the car.
Vin follows and we stand near the hood. “You want me to drive?”
I nod.
“You want to time me?”
I shake my head.
He raises his dark eyebrows. “Really?”
“Forget the stopwatch. Forget the finish line. Forget everything except how you feel handling this gorgeous, powerful machine. We’ll start there, okay?” I walk around to the passenger side and look over the roof at him.
His face is serious, his green eyes sparking. “Shouldn’t be that hard. Basically sums up the way I feel when I’m alone with you.”
I’m frozen with my hand on the door handle, my blood pumping so hard I can hear it whooshing in my ears. Maybe some girls would be deeply offended to be compared to a Dodge Dart, but I’m not some girls.
