Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (12 page)

Since ‘Wake up and realize this was all just a dream’ wasn’t one of the options on the screen, I withdrew two thousand dollars and handed the cash to Caine when I got behind the wheel.

The Greer Drag Strip was shabby in a far different way than the one at the fairgrounds back home. Tall weeds, left over from last summer, lay bent and brittle on either side of the long track. Pinkish sodium lights flared from old-fashioned telephone poles along either side of the strip. There wasn’t an oval track, just two straight lanes that cut through the trees. Warped, peeling grandstand benches looked like something the local middle school might’ve thrown out. A squatty tower reared in the center between two ribbons of asphalt.

We parked at the fence behind the tower, near the concession trailer, getting looks from the small crowd as we exited the cars. I inhaled the stench of hot rubber and gasoline, feeling my nipples respond to the harsh scent. A pair of late-model Hondas lined up under the lights.

At least I could be happy for Caroline. Leaning against his front bumper, Jonny cupped her ass, tugging her to his chest to murmur in her ear. Colt and Caine bracketed me, their crossed arms and wide-spread legs unwelcome reminders of the Christmas party at Ridenhour.

Jonny ran his knuckles across one pink cheek and stared into Caroline’s eyes. “Okay, let me roll out and find my guy. The name of the game is to act as blonde as possible. And giggle. I know you’ve got that part on lock.” He swatted her butt with a grin. Catching my gaze over her shoulder, he added, “Never heard you giggle, Red. Can you at least twirl your hair and sound rich but clueless?”

This is going to be fun.

Caine caressed the spot between my shoulder blades
.
“Last time I played anyone like this, Shelby
was
clueless.” 

I drilled a finger into Colt’s side. “Remember the time you told Dale I was an idiot savant? I had no idea you meant that as a compliment until this past Christmas. Pretty sure I can handle my role.”

“You gals just say you like to drive, if anyone approaches y’all. When they start talkin’ money, they go through one of us. Bat your lashes. Caroline, show off your boobs, babe. Shelby, do the best you can.” Jonny winked.

“I always think that shit’s not gonna fool anybody. Then, it works every time.” Caroline giggled. I gave Jonny the finger, moving to Caroline’s side. Pulling onto the Corvair’s hood, I kicked my feet and watched the tree cycle to red. The guys sauntered toward a group of men standing in the weeds to the right of the tower. White smoke billowed as the pair on the track started their burnouts.

“Red Honda. Two bucks.” Caroline pulled the bills out of her front pocket and smoothed them on the hood between us.

I eyed the other car, leaning forward to tug my cash from my back pocket. The putrid lemon-lime paint made me cringe. I had no idea what the make was. “You’re on, but under duress. Holy cow, that car is fugly.”

The green circles lit. The red Honda shot across the line, but I started to laugh when my ears sorted the two engines. Her dude shifted into second too late. “I’m already two dollars richer.”

“Jesus, this is painful.” Caroline scowled as the snot-colored car jumped ahead and stayed there.

“Fourteen three,” the loudspeaker blared. “Win for Frankie Pace.”

An arm came through the lowered side window of the winning vehicle, pumping up and down in triumph.

I darted a horrified look at Caroline. “I never had a night when I thought that was a good time.”

“And yet, every night at some track or other, people celebrate tuning times just like that.” Caroline’s breasts bounced with laughter.

She pinched my cheek. “Oh my God, you were so cute that first time we took you to the drag strip. I wish I had a picture of your face when you yelled at Colt and said you weren’t leavin’ until you broke nine seconds. Brandon said it was like thinkin’ you had a Chihuahua on leash and realizin’ those tiny teeth belonged to a barracuda.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, after that, he also swore he’d predicted Dale givin’ you the ‘Cuda, like he was some psychic god.”

I wished I’d thought to buy gum at the store. The concession stand appeared to serve hotdogs, popcorn, boiled peanuts, coffee, and little else. “That’s because Caine promised me if I broke nine seconds, Colt would go down on me.”

She fell against my shoulder, unleashing a peal of giggles.

“Shut up. I’d just discovered the joys of good oral.”

The red Honda peeled past us, rear end sliding on the loose gravel as the driver headed for the highway. The ugly car reversed up the track, swinging his car onto the mud-stained grass where Jonny, Colt, and Caine loitered.

Winner’s bracket.
They’d race until there was one man left, but even if every race-worthy vehicle on the premises rolled up to the line, in less than an hour, someone’s name would go in the books, and then, the real fun would begin.

My stomach lurched.

“Looks a lot like love in Jonny’s eyes.” A metallic green Camaro, Eighties vintage, took the left lane against a neon orange Mazda Miata, circa... two thousand and change, maybe. “Two on the Chevy.”

“Goddammit,” Caroline muttered, taking two more dollars from her pocket. “I wanted the Camaro. It ain’t never love for me. I think it is, but then it ain’t.” She dug her elbow into my ribs. “But, I tried to fucking tell you about me and Caine. Crossed him off my bucket list is all. Girl, I was spittin’ mad when you broke his heart.”

I sighed. That explained why she’d ignored my ‘likes’ on her Facebook photos. “And now you know why.”

“I been hangin’ out over there, now that Macy and Dale moved out. Me and Jonny been hookin’ up while they worked on your car. Don’t mean nothin’. Where he’s headed, he’ll have all the free ass he could ever want. Plus Colt’s.”

“Oh, here’s something you don’t see every day.”

The stranger voice prompted me to lean forward to see past Caroline. The guy looked to be late-twenties, with a dirty blond crew cut. He checked out the Viper and Audi first, then slid his gaze over Caroline, ending by meeting my eyes.

“Amazin’ what Daddy’s money can buy, ain’t it?”

Caroline giggled. I dragged my fingers through my hair, then twisted a strand. “Maybe Daddy can buy me someone like you to detail it. But if you brought cash and you wanna ride, big boy, you need to talk to my—”

“Boyfriend.” Caroline pointed helpfully. “Red satin jacket.”

When he slung gravel in his hurry to approach Caine, Caroline threw an arm around my shoulder, giggling so hard, she could barely talk.

“I might not have to sell the Viper this month after all. I think he swallowed that hook all the way to his—”

“Balls.” I grinned and twirled my hair again. “What’s he driving? Is that a Ford?”

She winced. Something a lot like pity darkened her eyes. “Sometimes, it just takes all I got not to smack you. That’s a 2015 Shelby Cobra Super Snake, for God’s sake.”

“Any fool can make car payments. I just hope he gives good head.” I shrugged.

She looked like I’d peed on Jonny’s hood. “When you race for cash, nobody gets head, silly.”

“Oh, trust me, if I race, someone’s giving me head.” Her cheeks turned pink.

I took Caroline’s two bucks when the Camaro won the heat. She didn’t offer to reach into her pocket again. Did that mean she’d used her last dime to put gas in her car to get here?

I chewed the inside of my cheek while the next pair lined up.

I’ve done this plenty of times. Clutch, gas, shift, and don’t slow down till you pass the finish line. Easy as falling for the wrong two guys.

One night. One more race. I can’t pussy out. It’s for Caroline, but there’s more to it than that.

Of course, if I don’t race, they’ll have an easier time turning their backs.

The same logic I’d tried in order to talk myself into throwing the race against Kolby was no more palatable tonight than it had been at Christmas.

Maybe I can offer Caroline the money I saved to give Caine. Starting Saturday, Harry’s putting me back on the schedule at the bar.

The check Caine had written me still hid in the recesses of my wallet.

The guy in the Ford Cobra gestured toward the Viper while he talked to Jonny, who leaned into the engine compartment of the GT500. I watched the conversation, but couldn’t hear a word, thanks to the roaring engines.

The loudspeaker blared, “Very nice thirteen-point-three-second run for Bobcat Davis, folks.” A smattering of applause broke out, along with a couple of piercing whistles. People stood and began folding blankets and quilts.

“How the hell do they whistle like that?”

Caroline jammed two fingers through her lips and tried her best to split my eardrums.

“I should’ve known.”

She grabbed my hand. “Taught you to shift, didn’t I? I can teach you to whistle, too. Stick these two fingers into your mouth.”

“Pass.”

An hour later, I stretched. “Looks like the standard race program’s done.” I watched the people filing out of the stands and scrubbed my palms along the tops of my thighs. When I glanced toward Caine again, I spied an older man in a stained green jacket, standing with him and Jonny and the guy driving the Super Snake. The old man’s baseball cap, adorned with a Castrol patch and bright green ventilated back, reminded me of Lee Haney.

“Holy shit. Look.” Caroline squeezed my fingers so hard, I cried out.

A gunmetal gray Audi rolled past. The driver braked beside my car.

“RS7,” Caroline whispered. “That’s the same twin turbo engines you got under the hood. Fuck me. I didn’t expect nothin’ that fast to show up at a hole in the wall like this.”

“You’ll get the early start, though. A fraction of a second is all you need to kick his ass.”

Her lips turned down. “Uh, no. Cash money race means two noses on the line and go on green. Nobody’s gonna sit around half the night while we dial in our times.”

So, the entire plan hinged on finding two suckers driving eight cylinder cars, who thought Caroline and I were here to spit polish the three hundred thousand dollars worth of equipment we’d rolled in with? Didn’t seem like much of a plan. Especially if she had to have the money.

“Which one of you honeys is with the guy drivin’ this R8?” I bristled at the demeaning tone.

“Shh. Roll with it, remember?”

I shook off Caroline’s clutching fingers and waved.

“Go and fetch him for me, sweetie.”

Sweetie? You arrogant piece of shit.

“Okay, darlin’. Be back in a flash.” I jumped off Jonny’s hood and turned the fakest smile I could manage on Caroline. “It’s just a cryin’ shame I won’t get to watch that motherfucker kneel at my feet.”

“H
ow much cash y’all got on you, total?” I grabbed Jonny’s arm.

Caine looked over his shoulder with raised brows.

I jerked a thumb toward the gray Audi. “He sent me to fetch the guy who drives that purple Audi. I do mean sent me, like I’m some sub-standard species only here to do his bidding.”

Colt slung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to mutter in my ear. “Relax. We told you, that’s the mindset we’re here to exploit.”

“Well, I wanna know if he’s got the bank to back up his mouth. So, how much?” Crossing my arms, I jerked away from Colt.

The old man shouldered Caine aside. “He’s got the bank. You think you can take him down, little girl?” He older man wheezed so hard, I was reminded of Mack Brown. “Honey, that’s Randall Underwood. He’s NHRA, rated near the top of the Pro Street division. What’re you? Twelve?”

Jerking my chin high, I spat, “I’m over sixteen. I need five warm-up runs. I haven’t driven since December. And I want the left-hand lane or all y’all can kiss my ass.”

I spun, stalking toward Caroline, still seated on the hood of the Corvair.

“Uh, hang on a minute, babe.” I halted in my tracks, turning slowly to stare at Caine.
So not the time to call me ‘babe’.

“He’s the big leagues, sweetheart. I know how you like to race, and you’re comin’ along real good, sweet cheeks, but NHRA stands for National Hot Rod Association. He’s practically a pro. This guy won’t race anyone for less’n five grand.”

“Your point?” I sailed a rock with my toe that landed beside Caine’s boot.

“My point is, just take your fine ass to the concession stand before it closes and get me a coffee. You won’t be drivin’. Not. Tonight.” Caine narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh, now, I didn’t mean to start no squabble.”

I turned, nearly snapping my ankle on loose gravel. An icy breeze whipped Randall’s shoulder-length bleached blond locks. The harsh lights revealed a pink scalp underneath thinning, dark roots on top of his head. Racing patches lined the black felt sleeves of his letterman-style jacket, but I’d swear I’d seen the same coat on the NASCAR website, so I didn’t think he’d earned them behind the wheel.

He sucked air through his teeth, staring at the front of my college sweatshirt. “If Connie Converse here thinks she can take me, I’ll match whatever Ervin’s gonna wager.”

Jonny reached into his jacket. Removing a stack of bills, he fanned the short ends past his fingers. “So, you’ve got five grand in your hip pocket, Randall?”