Page 95 of Furious
A lot of people are congregating toward a spot not too far from the old building.
There are portable LED lights and rather than a circle painted on the ground or something that would designate a fighting spot, there’s a straight white line painted on the old tarmac. It looks like a starting line for a race.
I look at the old building with renewed interest. Could there be cars in there? Is that what Chance and Lev are doing in secret? Illegal street racing? It all makes sense now. Morelli must be involved in the organization of it. I would be surprised if there weren’t any bets being placed on the race.
My hunch is confirmed when I see a line to talk to the fraternity president by the starting line. He writes something in a small black notebook and then takes a wad of cash from each person.
Chance and Lev are stupider than I thought if they’re getting mixed up in this kind of shit. Neither of them is hurting for money and if Morelli is involved, I hope there aren’t other illegal dealings going on here. Like drugs or prostitution, or something like that.
I join the line so I can listen to what’s being said. If I want to take a peek at what’s in that notebook, I can pretend I want to place a bet too.
It’s almost my turn when I spot Calvin Fox in a racing suit with a girl dangling from his arm. He’s walking toward the Gamma president. He could recognize me, so I take a step back.
Fuck. I hadn’t recognized the girl at first, because she changed her hair color from blonde to brunette. But the girl with Fox is Angela, one of Heather’s best friends. What is the deputy mayor’s daughter doing with that lowlife?
Getting closer is risky, because Angela could recognize me too. But I have to know what’s going on.
“Hey, do you want to go before me?” I offer the girl right behind me. If I can put one extra person between us, I can probably get close enough to hear their conversation. It’s not like they can whisper with the loud music and the noise of the crowd.
“Thank you.” the girl smiles. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I just need to check my phone first.”
Fox slaps the Gamma president on the back. “We’re ready to start in five, brother. Any sign of our guy?”
The Gamma president shakes his head. “Not yet. Maybe he’s not going to show.”
“It would serve Hunter and Reilly right, if he didn’t. If they can’t bring Smith to Morelli, they’re going to have to keep racing.”
The thought hits me when Fox cackles, squeezing Angela’s ass. I can’t believe I didn’t realize what’s going on sooner. If Fox is involved, I’m pretty sure it’s not cars they’re racing.
What I stumbled upon here is an illegal motorcycle race. A race organized with the involvement of the Morelli family in spite of the fact that even owning a motorcycle is illegal in Star Cove. I don’t know how Chance and Lev got mixed up in this, but it ends tonight. If Dad caught them on a motorcycle, I don’teven want to think about the possible consequences. Those two idiots would beg me to put them in jail to protect them from the mayor’s wrath.
I turn on my heels with the intention of stepping into that dilapidated hangar-style building where I’m sure the motorcycles are. Chance and Lev aren’t going to race tonight. If it was the last thing I do.
“I want to place a bet on behalf of JJ Smith.”
I haven’t heard that name for years, but I freeze in my spot, turning back to look at the girl I let take my place in line a few moments ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before, but if she knows the guy who was the target of the bike that hit my brother, I’m going to stay close to her. Smith didn’t do anything wrong, but the police—and my family—have been looking for him for all this time in the hopes that he could shed some light on what happened in Bridgeport. Maybe he had some enemies and he could give us a better idea of who could have killed Atlas.
“How much?” the Gamma president asks.
“One hundred thousand dollars that he wins the race.”
I’m not the only one who is shocked at the huge sum.
“Come again?” the Gamma president lifts his eyes from his notebook. “Did you say one hundred bucks or one thousand?”
“I said one hundred thousand.” The girl repeats.
Fox intervenes, taking a step away from Angela and toward the other girl. “Smith wants to bet a hundred grand that he wins the fucking race?”
The girl squares her shoulders, not intimidated by Fox. I already like her.
“Yes. Am I speaking loudly enough for you?”
“Is Smith stupid or what?” Fox bites out. “The odds are two to one. So if he wins, he’d get two hundred grand; but if he loses, he still has to pay the hundred grand. I don’t see any money in your hand.”
The girl crosses her arms over her chest, standing her ground. “He’s good for it, but he isn’t going to lose.”
