Page 17 of Hit and Run
“Hey, hey! You guys hungry? This place has some amazing food,” he says as we sit.
“I’m starving,” Rascal replies.
“Dude, you eat every fucking hour. How are you starving?” Sketch snickers. Rascal flips him off. Ace calls the waitress back over once everyone figures out what they want to eat. I have to leave before they get their food.
“Good luck, brother,” Diesel calls out as I walk out of the diner. I walk around the building to the Audis. Ric, Axel, and Grizz are out here talking.
“Ready to roll,” Ric asks me.
“Hell yeah. It’s not every day I get to race a fucking Audi.” I grin.
“It’s one hell of a rush, I’ll tell ya that,” he responds. The other three guys come walking up just minutes later. “Start line is the stoplight in front of the diner. The dash cams will come on when you turn the cars on. Turn on whatever music you want.”
“Let’s get this party started,” Axel shouts. We all load up in our cars. I connect my phone to the car’s Bluetooth and turn on my hype playlist.Go Hard or Go Homeby Wiz Khalifa comes on. We all pull up to the designated start line in front of the diner. A couple of the guys rev their engines, trying to be intimidating. I keep my eyes on the stoplight, waiting for it to turn green. The wait feels like hours when in reality, it’s only a couple of minutes.
As soon as I see green, I shift into gear and take off. Zero to sixty in a quick three seconds. Out of the corner of my eye, the guy to my right starts to lose control of his car. I focus on the GPS and the road in front of me. It’s late, but there are still other people out driving. I have to stay aware of those people to make sure I switch lanes in time.
9
Sienna
Wrenand I are hanging out at our apartment watching the live stream of Shade’s race on her iPad while a movie plays on our TV. We chose to have a veg-out night and order some pizza and wings to snack on while we watch his race. His start was great. He had amazing control of his car. Wren told me before that Shade drives a Skyline. The hood of this car definitely isn’t a Skyline. It looks like something fancier.
I’m not sure how long this race is supposed to last, but we’ve been watching for a little over an hour already. There have been some intense moments, he fought for first place the first forty-five minutes. I don’t know what happened to the other guy, but Shade has held first for the last twenty minutes. Wren passed out ten minutes ago, and while I’m fighting sleep, I force myself to stay awake to keep watching.
All of a sudden, red and blue lights start flashing. My heart rate picks up. Fifteen minutes go by and the lights haven’t stopped. Winner flashes across the live stream and not even a minute later, the feed cuts to black. My heart is racing, knowing he’s running from the cops. I shoot him a text.
To Mystery Man:Wren and I were watching your race. Please text me when you’re safe.
I turn on another movie and wait for a response from Shade. At some point, I fall asleep.
A buzzing wake me up. I look at my phone— it’s four in the morning. Wren is still passed out. I look at my phone again and have three texts from Shade.
From Mystery Man:Are you saying you were worried about me?
From Mystery Man:Shit, Wren didn’t see that, did she?
From Mystery Man:Nevermind. If she did, she would have called me AND Diesel.
I giggle to myself, then send a reply.
To Mystery Man:I was worried about you for Wren. She passed out about ten minutes before they flipped their lights on.
From Mystery Man:What the hell are you doing awake? You should be sleeping.
To Mystery Man:Your text woke me up, asshole.
From Mystery Man:You wanted to know when I was safe, remember?
To Mystery Man:Well, you’re safe and I’m going back to bed.
From Mystery Man:Goodnight, beautiful.
I don’t respond to his last text. I set my phone on do not disturb and go back to sleep.
I wake a few hours later to the smell of coffee. I glance at my phone— ten o’clock. I stretch and stand, walking to the kitchen. Wren must have gone to her room. I make myself a cup, grabbing the white chocolate mocha creamer out of the fridge. I mix the creamer in and go sit at the kitchen table.
“Well, good morning, sleeping beauty,” Wren greets me.
