Page 42 of Kiss & Collide
“You’re so clever.” She shrugged dismissively as she tore her bread into increasingly tiny pieces. “I was on the road with them for a few years. Three years, more or less. I met him when I was eighteen. And then I started with Lennox when I was twenty-one. So between the two.” Her face clouded over.
“I feel like you’re leaving a lot out.”
“I am.” She gave him a quick, challenging look that he was starting to think of as pure Violet. “Anyway, they did pretty well in France. We came through Paris a few times.” She let out a sudden huff of laughter, like she’d just been surprised by a memory. “Kiz fell into the Seine right over there. I forgotabout that. Kiz was the drummer. He was drunk. Well, we all were. And we were lost, but Kiz swore he knew the way back to the van. And Astrid was arguing with him, because she said it was in the other direction, and she grabbed his arm and he lost his footing and, boom. Straight over into the Seine. They had to call the gendarmes to fish him out.” Her whole face softened—he could picture her, younger and edgier, drunk and laughing with her friends. “And Astrid was standing there on the bank yelling at him the whole time, while he splashed around and shouted back at her.” She paused, staring off into the middle distance. “I haven’t thought about that night in a long time.”
Even her eyes had gone soft, and he wondered how much of that tough-girl armor was a recent thing for her. Maybe, back then with Ian’s band, she’d been different. He doubted Violet had ever been cuddly, but she probably wasn’t always sharp edges and glossy surfaces you could never get a grip on.
“Sounds like you guys had some good times.”
Violet inhaled and just like that, the wall came back down hard. “Yeah, well, it was a long time ago and it doesn’t really matter anymore.”
He didn’t call her on it, but that was one big fucking lie. Outside of Mira, she’d never mentioned friends … a group that she was a part of. But it sounded like she’d had that once.
His jealousy turned to anger. It seemed like that asshole Ian was the one who’d stolen that away from her.
The waiter arrived and slid their plates in front of them.
“So what happened?”
“I thought you were starving. Eat.”
“I can multitask.” He cut into his white fish, no sauce. There’d been a lot more interesting stuff on the menu, but his diet during the season was uncompromising. He was alreadypretty tall for a driver. He couldn’t afford an extra ounce behind the wheel.
“Uh-uh. Your turn.”
“What do you want to know? Unlike you, I’m an open book, Violet.”
“So you said you moved to Spain when you were fifteen.”
“To live with my grandmother, so I could compete in European open-wheel racing.”
“Your family is Spanish?”
“My dad is. He came to the US for college. Met my mom and stayed. His family is all back in Spain.”
“So do you speak Spanish?”
He looked up and locked eyes with her. “Eres el postre perfecto despues de cena.”
Violet blinked, her lips parting slightly, and he grinned. That one always worked.
“Making a mental note ofthat,” she murmured. “Your parents were okay with that? You quitting school to race?”
“Mom made me get my GED online, but yeah. My whole family races.”
“There are more of you?”
“My sister, Samantha, and my brother, Tyler. Both younger.”
Violet set her fork down with a clatter. “You have asisterwho races cars?”
He nodded. “Sam is driving in the European Le Mans Series right now. Tyler’s just getting started in IndyCar back home. He’s only nineteen.”
“GQis going to love you,” she murmured.
“So how’dyouget into racing? Was it after the band?”
She kept her eyes on her plate as she pushed a green bean around with her fork. “Um, no. I’ve always been into racing.”
