Page 60 of Furious
There are twice, maybe three times, the number of people of last week’s race. Girls in skimpy clothes are dancing around offering shots to the people who are waiting in line by a stand near the hangar where Dave is taking bets.
“How the fuck did Dave make it here so quickly?” I frown.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he didn’t have to go get his bag with his helmet and racing suit.” Lev says. “But that’s the least of my fucking worries. That stupid motherfucker got too greedy and brought in more people than last time.”
He’s right. I even see several people I recognize. “Isn’t that Ward Crawford, the starting quarterback of our football team?”
Lev nods. “Yeah, he’s also the president of the Greek Council. And that’s Candace, the Zeta president, right next to Angela.”
Tension causes my stomach to plummet. “The only good thing is that not all the Zetas are here. I don’t see Heather.” Or Zara.
Lev clasps my shoulder as we look at the circus right in front of us. “Yeah. I’m glad Zara isn’t here. At least if we get caught, she is going to stay out of trouble.”
ZARA
I need to remember never to say that I have a headache and I need to go home just to get rid of Heather.
She’s too much of a good friend to just make sure I get into my Uber and wave me off to go back to the party.
She was determined to come home with me, worried that Mom and Scott were out to dinner and I would be alone.
In the end, I had to tell her that I just wanted to take some painkillers and go to bed and I wouldn’t be good company if she came with me. Even then, my grumpy tone was barely a deterrent.
Having my bike hidden in Scott’s garage isn’t ideal. It’s just lucky that his engagements as mayor mean that he and Mom rarely have any time to Netflix and chill at home in the evenings.
But I don’t have any other choice. I can’t leave Dad’s old Ducati in the woods. It would be just a matter of time before someone steals it or damages it. Leaving it in the hangar underCal’s watchful eyes isn’t a choice, either. Not only because I don’t trust him not to tamper with it—and I don’t. Mostly because I can’t be around him if I don’t want to be recognized. It would be only a matter of time before I slipped and the whole ruse would be up.
I can’t watch over Chance and Lev if Cal knows I’m here. Besides, I missed riding and racing is the best way to do it. Nothing beats the sense of freedom when you’re on your bike going at two hundred miles per hour.
“Good luck, hottie. I hope you win.” Wren bats her eyelashes at me, playing her role of my “fake girlfriend” with a little too much dedication.
I shake my helmet clad head and smack her ass to get her to move away from the starting line.
When I asked for her help, she jumped at the opportunity. I just passed my driving test, and Mom and Scott insisted that they’re going to buy me a car next week. In the meantime, I was told I could use Mom’s car if I want to get around town without depending on my boyfriend, my stepbrothers or Heather for a ride. That was kind of Mom, but her sedan wouldn’t be much help in carrying the Ducati to the race location.
I thought about riding it to the edge of town, but it was too risky. That area of Star Cove isn’t very populated, but it’s still within town limits, and that means there’s the very real risk of bumping into a police car.
The ideal solution would have been to call DJ, but he made it clear he couldn’t risk everything to help me race. So I called my best friend Wren, his sister, who was more than happy to come to Star Cove with her own truck to help me transport the bike to the old hangar.
I also needed Wren’s help to actually sign me up for the race. I realized that I couldn’t keep sneaking into the starting line like I did last week. It would only be a matter of time before someonewould challenge me and find out who I am. I’m under no illusion that sooner or later, I’ll have to come out of hiding, but I need to speak to Chance and Lev first. And before I do that, I want to find out the identity of Cal’s sponsors.
That’s why I asked her to pretend to be my girlfriend and sign me up resurrecting my old racing alter ego, JJ Smith.
To my relief, everything went without a hitch and Wren was able to pay the entry fee and sign me up without having to answer any questions. It helps that Cal has put his brother in charge of keeping track of the bets and of racers’ registration. To Dave, JJ Smith is just another name, but Cal might have asked questions if he remembered it from the race in Bridgeport.
I’m worried about Chance and Lev’s safety. I don’t trust my ex to play fair and being here gives me a front-row seat in case he does something wrong. But I would be lying if I said that it's the only reason why I’m racing.
Racing is in my blood. I was born to do it and I miss it. I know that if I had been a man, my dad would have taken me under his wing and I would be racing for his team right now. Motorcycle racing is still a predominantly male sport and Dad always considered my interest in it as a cute hobby.
I hope this changes soon. Women can be as fast, and even faster than men on two wheels. They just need the opportunity to prove it.
Angela steps in front of the starting line, just like she did last week.
“Racers, start your engines!” Last week she yelled it. This time she has a microphone. That isn’t the only sign that the race is getting bigger.
There are portable LED lights all over the makeshift track; tiki torches are scattered around the clearing that tonight holds twice the people who came to watch and place their bets last week.
The engine of my Ducati comes to life with its distinctive, throaty roar. I throw a quick glance at either side of me. There aren’t enough racers to require a pole position system yet, but that might come if Cal brings more bikes into the equation. Right now, I have my ex-boyfriend on one side and Chance on the other.
