Page 6 of Full Throttled

I reach Nevada soon, too soon if you ask me. I feel like I need more time to come to terms with where my life is right now and the decisions that I’ve made, but one look in my wallet tells me that it doesn’t matter. I don’t have the money to stay anywhere. I’ll barely have enough to cover the remaining gas to get me to Los Angeles. I sigh and continue down the lonely highway. I sing along in my head, since the radio in my car doesn’t work. This trip has been a quiet one, which is both a blessing and a curse.

As the skyline of Los Angeles breaks into my view, I feel my heart jump into my throat. This is it. There’s literally no turning back now, even if I wanted to. I’m out of money and almost out of gas. However, the sun is sitting just above the ocean, the way I always liked it. I take a deep breath as I pull farther into town. I’m praying my car makes it all the way to the clubhouse because if not, I’m screwed. I don’t have anyone’s phone numbers anymore.

Deleting Zayde and Drake’s numbers was the hardest thing I had to do, aside from leaving them behind. The first few months after I left Los Angeles with Gregg had been better than even I had expected, but after that, things quickly began to spiral out of control. When the downward spiral first started, I reached out to both Zayde and Drake, thinking that the version of Gregg I had left with would return. It was a naïve thought, but I was also much younger then. Zayde and Drake kept me levelheaded and that sliver of hope alive in my heart, but then about a year later, they started to question me about things. I knew what I had to do. It killed that last sliver of hope, but it was necessary. At the time, I felt as if I could never return to Los Angeles so keeping in contact with them was never going to work. When I deleted their numbers, it shredded a piece of my heart. Of course, I found out deleting their numbers was only half the battle. They still had mine and Drake, being the good guy, was persistent in trying to keep in contact with me. Eventually, I had to change my number all together.

I somehowmanagedto reach the clubhouse. I’m shocked to see that the parking lot is pretty empty with the exception of a few cars and one motorcycle. I’ve never seen this place be so empty unless the club was on a ride. Crap, what if they are on a ride? What will I do then? I slap my palm against my forehead. I clearly didn’t think this plan all the way through. There’s only one way to find out. I give myself a quick pep talk while trying to adjust my dirty hair and clothes, but it’s really no use. I look like the mess that I am just like my life. I sigh and get out of the car. As I approach the converted warehouse, I can’t help but think about the fact that nothing has really changed and would it have killed my dad to paint the damn place? The little angry fire burns in my gut and I have to try and extinguish it before it consumes me, because right now, I need him. That thought alone tastes like acid in my mouth.

Memories from my past flood as I get closer and closer to the door. I still remember the first time Drake got on a motorcycle. It was here, in this parking lot. I remember sitting on these steps and wondering if the good southern boy should really be on a motorcycle? Then I laughed because I knew the answer was no, and that his mom would flip, but seeing that smile on his face was enough to silence all my thoughts. He had a megawatt smile that caused dimples on his cheeks and heated every inch of my body. At the time, I wouldn’t admit it, but I was in some way drawn or attracted to Drake, but I knew he’d never stand up to my father and that right there would be the downfall of that attraction.

I look over my shoulder at that spot where I watched Drake become more and more skilled on a bike and instantly, I wonder where he is now? I’m sure he’s probably some computer programmeror something fancy like that, a tall, broad guy opens the door. His eyes are the first thing I notice because the blue is so light that they look like ice. His medium brown hair is thick and pushed back. His incredibly strong jaw is covered in stubble and he hasa setof lips that any girl would be jealous of. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees me, but he quickly gives me a lopsided smile. I expected it to be cocky but it’s actually friendly. “Can I help you?” he asks. His voice is deep and smooth.

I quickly notice that his leather cut is new and “prospect” is embroiled over the heart of his chest. “I need to see Zayde.”

He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, but remains where he is, blocking the entrance. “He’s not in at the moment. Maybe, you can try again in a few days.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m his sister, so even if he’s shacked up back there with some random chick, just go get him.” My hands instantly go to my hips and I have to fight the memory of Zayde and Drake teasing me about it being my ‘I mean business stance’.

At first, the guy looks even more surprised before he chuckles and scratches at the stubble on his jaw. “Look Sweetheart, I don’t know whatyourgame is, but you aren’t getting in here. You’re not one of the Sinner girls and Zayde isn’t here.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m the damn original Sinner girl. I started that shit. Just call Zayde or go get him!”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll call someone. Just chill girl.” He pulls out his phone and dials someone. I can’t make out the voice on the other end of the phone. I listen to the one-sided conversation for a minute before the guy, whose name I now know is Wilder, turns around and asks my name. He hangs up the phone and gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get into any kind of trouble. Come on in. You can wait here for him to get here.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, as I walk past him and into my past.Opposite ofthe outside,everythinghasbeen upgradedon the inside. In the far back corner are a few arcade games and a pinball machine that have been collected throughout the years. An air hockey and two pool tables sit not too far away from them. A huge flat screen TV is mounted on the wall directly in front of me with a monster of a stereo system. A couch and a handful of mix match chairs surround that. On the other side of the room is the bar which looks fully stocked. The lighting is still too dark for my liking.I cross the room and take a seat on one of the stools while I wait for my brother to arrive.

Wilder walks around the other side of the bar, looking completely uncomfortable. I sit in silence while Wilder cleans up around the back half of the bar. The door opens and the voice that I hear causes my heart to stop completely. I’d know that voice anywhere. Yes, it's deeper, older, richer in sound, but it’s still his. That heatpricks at myskin again. When I turn around, I think I’ve lost my mind. There’s no way that is Drake James. He looks like he just walked out of a tattooed bad boy magazine or something;do those even exist? If they do, sign me up!

Wilder disappears out the door, leaving just Drake and I alone with our history packed into this now shrinking room. My eyes take in this tall, muscled figure that used to be my lanky best friend. His strawberryblondehair is cut short to his head and seems to be pulled in every direction. His blue eyes shine just like I remember and a thick layer of stubble covers his jaw, but I can see the peak of those dimples when he gives me half a smile. None of that has changed much but it’s the colorful ink that fills his arms, hands and even his neck. He’s nothing like I remember and my heart races at the thought and possibilities that this new Drake could bring. My eyes meet his once more and he says, “It’s been a long time, Zo.”

I give him a small smile, but it’s the best one I have these days. “I guess it has been.”

Drake seems timid as he approaches me so maybe not that much has changed after all. “So, how have you been?” he asks, as he takes a seat on the stool next to me.

His cologne fills my nose and causes me to take a much deeper breath that I had intended to. I shrug and try to play down the fact that my life is in shambles at the moment. “You know, just living the dream.”

Drake nods his head slowly, a look crosses his features and I’m afraid to try and pinpoint what it could mean. “Must have been some dream if you couldn’t even bother to return a call or text.”

I sigh heavily. I knew that Zayde would give me the ten realms of hell for disappearing, but I honestly hadn’t expected it from Drake. He was always so nice and considerate. “Drake…”

“Oh no, I forgot you changed your number, so that you didn’t have to even be bothered by us,” his tone is slightly harsh, but I hear the hurt underneath and it shreds another piece of my beat up heart to know that I caused that sound. Silence, awkward and uncomfortable, falls between us. Finally, he rubs his hands over his face.

“Where is everyone else?” I finally ask, once I can find my voice and stop staring at the boy who was my best friend, but is now a stranger.

“They’re on a ride.” The look in his eyes tells me it’s not just any ride.

I nod. “So, you joined Sons of Sin, huh?”

He smirks. “Yeah, one of the best decisions I ever made.”

“I never thought I’d see the day that little Drake James was wearing a leather cut and riding a bike,” I tease him, with a nudge of his shoulder.

He chuckles. “Yeah.”

“So, where is Zayde? Is he like running around with a Sinner girl oris he on the ride with the rest of them?” I ask, adding a little laugh even though the idea of my brother lowering his standards to a Sinner girl makes me sick. Back in the day being a Sinner girl was awesome. We were basically the Sons of Sins groupies, but now I hate the idea.

Drake looks uncomfortable and shifts in his seat. His eyes meet mine. “I have to tell you something and I hate for it to be the first thing we have to discuss, but it is.”

I already know by the tone in his voice that I’m not going to like whatever it is that he has to say to me. My heart pounds in my chest. “Is Zayde okay? Did something happen to him?” The burn in my eyes lets me know the tears are coming. I can’t even begin to deal with something being wrong or even worse when it comes to Zayde. It’s been so long…

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