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18
It’s easy to fall into our routine. Me and Tommy under my hood, Ha
“You used to love the loud muffler shit, too, ya know,” I tease Tommy.
“Pfft, yeah. When I was twelve.”
My friend circles the Supra as I drop the hood, his eyes set on a line of cars about a hundred yards down the road. I step in next to him and nod.
“Rookies,” I say.
“That’s what I thought, too,” he answers.
There are four of them, probably friends who grew up watching the Fast & Furious movies so they think they know shit about racing. Definitely punks from money because their rides are tricked out like mad with custom wraps and high-dollar wheels and shit. Nothing so far says fast to me, especially the drivers.
My friend is reaching for his wallet, a sign that he smells a sucker the same way I do. Tommy doesn’t like the money part of this game, but when it’s easy . . . like this? It seems foolish not to invest.
I wipe my hands clean from the little tune-up work we just finished and trek across the street to welcome the new guys. Ha
I’m go My eyes on my targets, I reach out as Ha “You find your guy?” Ha “Sure did,” I say through a smug grin. I move my focus to her and she lifts up on her toes to brush our noses together, wrinkling hers and bunching up her lips in the cutest way. I’m sure Tommy is catching this little show and wants to punch me again, but he’s gotta prefer his sister being with me over one of these douchebags. “I’m go She drops her sunglasses on her nose and slinks her hand around my chest, then bicep, as she walks around me. I swear, those denim shorts did not show off that much of her ass cheeks this morning. I’m hypnotized by them as she walks back toward her car, the only thing to break me out of it Tommy’s firm palm flat on my chest as he pushes me a few steps back. “All right, that’s enough. I can only be so cool with this. Besides, you need to save that focus for sundown. We got some bets to make,” Tommy says. I spin until I’m walking in sync with him, acutely aware of the tightness in my jeans, an aftereffect of his sister’s sexy-as-hell exit. I roll my shoulders while we walk to shake off the tingles left from her hand, and shove my hands in my pockets as we approach our targets. I know a few people out here. It’s hard not to run into regulars when you race this circuit. But we all follow a code —nobody jacks with anyone else’s game. Everyone has something going. Like Jimmy, the guy with the Dodge Challenger who I’ve beaten so many times he flat out refuses to race me. We make eye contact as I pass, and I catch the slight tick in his lip, a flash of a smile that lets me know he’s already made a bet with one of these rich dudes. As far as they know, though? None of us know each other. We’re all just a bunch of gearheads who want to drive fast. I’m headed right for the guy who watched me kiss Ha “Hey, guys,” I greet them, plastering a toothy smile on my face that makes me feel like such a fraud. Tommy shakes beside me with a short, silent laugh and coughs to cover it. He’s always had a hard time keeping a straight face when I play the part of a sucker. I’m going to have to change it up a little this time, only because my mark saw me kiss Ha “What’s up?” The guy I’ve picked out lifts his chin to acknowledge me, then pushes up from leaning on the hood of his car. His eyes flick over my shoulder, probably to Ha “I’m Dustin. Mind if I check out your rides?” I hold my open palm out, same stupid grin on my face. My mark closes the distance, squinting as he sizes me up. I’m about an inch taller than he is, which I bet he hates, so I slouch to make it less evident. He takes my hand and I let him go ahead and squeeze just a little harder, waiting for the flicker in his eyes when I know I’ve got him. He holds it back, longer than I expect. I have to give it to him, but it comes when our handshake ends. “Your girl over there. She’s . . . something,” he says. I pass him and move toward his car, mashing my molars together. “She’s my sister,” Tommy grunts, and I’m glad he stepped in so I don’t have to. “She’s hot,” one of the assholes says, laughing at his boldness. My chest fires up and I’m willing to drop this charade now for the pleasure of punching him. “Yeah, but she’s a real bitch,” Tommy says. I laugh to myself, my face turned away from the new guys. Tommy is both pretending and being honest. They love each other, but like siblings who spent a lot of time together growing up. Sometimes, he legit thinks his sister is a bitch. I wonder if he knows the things she calls him. “That’s a pretty sick wrap job,” I say, ru “Yeah, had to do something to show off the two-point-four liter twin turbo the right way.” He rattles off probably the only thing he knows about his car. And I bet among his friends, it’s celebrated and awed over, as if he’s some bad-ass because he bought a stock car that goes fast. And it is fast. But not fast enough to beat me. “Siiiiiick,” I say, exaggerating my response to the point that I catch Tommy again trying to stifle his laughter. “I know, right?” the guy says, popping his hood for me to take a look. What an idiot. If he was playing me, he wouldn’t give me access to the inside of his ride. Tommy moves in next to me and we both glaze over, our suspicion confirmed. “Nice,” Tommy drones. The guy doesn’t catch the hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Real nice,” I add on, just to layer it thick. Tommy and I briefly make eye contact as we back away from the engine. It’s been awhile since he set something up with me. Out at the Straights, drivers pony up because that’s how it’s done. It’s a respect thing. We’re all upfront, and most of the people who race up north are serious about the craft. Racing me on the Straights has become a sort of honor, and a lot of the drivers have side bets going about their times or how close they can come, so they make cash even if they lose.