After carefully removing myself from Kenzie, I helped her get off the counter. While I fixed my clothes, she picked hers up off the floor. Holding her things in her arms, she beamed at me, then kissed me on the cheek. “I’m gonna hop in the shower.”
I told her okay, then laughed when her bare butt skipped away from me. For a brief moment, everything in my life felt absolutely perfect. She was perfect, she loved me, we were perfect, and I actually felt like everything was going to be okay.
And that was when my phone chimed with a text message. Even though I’d watched Kenzie leave, I double-checked the hallway before I looked at it. I’d changed my phone so that all the messages sounded the same, so I didn’t know if it was Felicia or Hookup texting me; neither one would be explainable if Kenzie saw it, reminding me just how far from perfect we really were.
Guilt nearly blocking my throat, I checked my phone. The text was the unsaved number that I knew was Felicia’s. Reading what she had to say made me cringe. ‘Izzy told me she talked to you. Are you ready to listen now?’
No, I’m not.
I managed to have enough control not to type that. But Felicia texted me again like I had. ‘Why are you still refusing to talk to me? Is it her? Is it Kenzie?’
I couldn’t stop myself that time. I instantly typed back, ‘Yes.’
She’s who I want.
In my mind’s eye, I could see Felicia’s brows drawing together, could perfectly see the annoyance in her eyes, could easily picture the frustration on her face; I’d seen that look a time or two. ‘You can’t keep denying fate. And you can’t protect her forever. One way or another, she’s going to get hurt.’
I wasn’t sure why, but that sounded ominous to me. ‘Is that a threat?’ I asked her. I could practically feel my hackles rising. If she thought she could physically start something with Kenzie to get her out the way, then she was in for a brutal surprise; I hadn’t entirely left the streets behind me.
Felicia’s response sounded condescending, even in text form. ‘I don’t threaten people, Hayden. It’s just the truth.’
Knowing I should just ignore her, I typed back, ‘Not necessarily.’
Her answering message took a little bit to get back to me. ‘Some things are certain. You and I are one of those things.’
I turned off my phone after that. Felicia wasn’t all-seeing or all-knowing. She was guessing I’d go back to her because of all the history we shared, but I wasn’t trading in my present for the past. History wasn’t enough.
When Kenzie came back into the room a few minutes later, I was still staring at my turned-off phone, contemplating. “Something wrong?” she asked, a clear note of suspicion in her voice.
I felt sick over what she’d just missed witnessing—and over the fact that I’d carried on a conversation with Felicia; I was slipping faster and faster—but there was an opportunity here, and I had no choice but to take advantage of it. “Actually…I kind of have bad news. Keith…he just texted. There are these sponsors he wants me to schmooze. I have to go to this thing in L.A. tonight…and it might run late.” My stomach roiled as I stared at her, and I was sure I was about to throw up. It’s all for a good reason. I just had to keep reminding myself that.
Kenzie’s face fell, and her expression grew just a touch more distrustful. “Oh…does he want me to go too? Show off my…goods?”
That instantly enflamed me; her “goods” weren’t for anyone but me. Keith had no right to pimp them out. “No. If I see some guy pawing you, I’ll punch his lights out…and that won’t get us sponsors.” I managed a sheepish grin on the end that wasn’t entirely fake; that was a true concern, the only part of this conversation that was real.
Kenzie smiled at my answer, then frowned. “Is…is everyone going?” she quietly asked.
I knew by everyone she meant Felicia. Having another truth to tell her loosened the shame in my chest. “No…it’s just me.”
A large grin erupted on her face before she schooled her features, and it made me feel better that at least I’d made her smile.
* * *
To help sell the lie that I was going to a party with Keith, I left Kenzie’s house a lot earlier than I needed to. I killed some time in my apartment above Keith’s garage, then, when it was late enough, I quietly left Keith’s place and headed north to Los Angeles.
Hookup had called me earlier with an address, and I made my way to an area of the city that was routinely plagued with criminal activity. Since what I was doing could not only get me arrested, but banned from my chosen career, I planned on keeping my helmet on and my license plate covered. Hookup had created this ingenious sticky, magnetic film that slipped right over the plate, making it completely unreadable. I’d look like just another random racer in a sea of random racers, and that was the way I needed it to be.
I immediately knew when I hit the right place; both sides of the street were littered with flashy cars and even flashier bikes. I spotted Grunts almost right away. Hookup’s massive friend was easy to pick out, even in a crowd. Hookup was standing on the sidewalk just to the left of Grunts. He was on the scrawny side to begin with, but next to Grunts, he looked like a child. When I pulled into a small space next to them, I could see they were still getting organized. Good.
Hopping off my bike, I walked over to Hookup. He gave me a blank look until I lifted my visor and he saw it was me. “H-man! You’re here!” He started rubbing his hands together like he was warming them up. “This is gonna be so fucking awesome! God, I can’t wait until you cream these wannabes all over the pavement.”
“Yeah…remember not to use my name.”
The glee on his face instantly shifted to annoyance. “Why the hell not? Your name sells you. People remember golden-boy Hayden Hayes. Bets double when you ride, just because you’re a household name.”
Shaking my head, I told him, “I know, but I can’t use it anymore. I should have dropped it the second I started racing for the ARRC…but it’s fine, I’ll start over, create a new name for myself.”
“Hayden…” he whined.
I crossed my arms over my chest so he’d know I wasn’t negotiating on this. “No, Hookup. No one can know I’m racing. And if you’re not okay with that, then I’m walking, right now.”
Disgust on his face, Hookup spat on the sidewalk. “Fine, we’ll ditch the name we spent years building. Not a problem.” His tone dripped with sarcasm. He briefly looked over at Grunts before returning his eyes to me. “We’ll call you Speed Demon instead.”
I cringed. “No.”
“Speed Killer?” he countered.
“No.”
“Lady Killer,” he said with an amused grin.
A small explosion of irritation went off in my brain. “Definitely, no.”
Hookup’s grin widened as he looked over at Grunts again; his quiet friend smiled back at him. “What?” Hookup said. “It’s appropriate. I hear you have Felicia number one and Felicia number two both choking your chicken.”
His choice of words made me want to roll my eyes, but what he’d said enflamed me too much. Who the hell was spreading rumors about me? “Where did you hear that?”
He shrugged. “Nowhere…I’m just assuming.”
Of course he was. Hookup assumed everyone of the opposite sex was doing it. The only person he hadn’t ever accused me of sleeping with was his sister. Even though Izzy had a kid of her own, I don’t think it occurred to Hookup that she was fully capable of having sex.
“Well, you’re wrong,” I told him. “Kenzie is the only one who’s choking my…” I stopped myself from repeating his stupid phrase, and reworded my answer. “Felicia and I aren’t anything anymore.”
Hookup smirked, like I’d just said something outlandish that no one in their right mind would believe. “Right. You still have her ring?”
His question caught me off guard. “What?”
He pointed at my pocket, like I had it with me. “The engagement ring you had me get for you. You still have it tuc
ked away? Ready to give it to her when the ‘time is right’?”
Shit. I did still have it tucked away, but not to give to her. That was over and done with. As was this conversation. “I’m not here to chitchat, Hookup.” I pointed at him, then me. “You and I, we’re not on solid ground.”
Hookup gave me a derisive sniff. “When the fuck did you get so touchy? That Kenzie chick…she’s murdered the fun part of you. I should file a police report.”
“You do that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ll be over there, racing.” Not wanting to talk to him anymore, I slammed down my visor and returned to my bike.
It wasn’t too much longer before the eager swarms of onlookers started vying to place bets. I didn’t look his way, but I heard Hookup loudly announcing me to the crowd. “Ladies and gents, so glad you could all make it. Tonight’s race is gonna be epic, and my boy here is going to steal the show. I call him Fun Killer, but don’t let his name fool you, he actually can ride…he just can’t take a joke.”
Looking his way after that comment, I flipped him off. Asshole. Some of the crowd laughed, and I heard bets being placed under my new name. Wonderful. Oh well…the fact that people were betting on me was all that mattered.
When it was my turn to go up, Grunts strapped the camera to my helmet. The guy I was going up against was riding an older Yamaha. My Honda shouldn’t have a problem beating the bike, but for a moment, I wished I’d nabbed one of Kenzie’s Ducatis from her garage. Her racing motorcycles were slightly faster than my street bike, and I wouldn’t mind having the extra edge right now—I needed to win. Immediately after having the thought, I dismissed it. Stealing Kenzie’s bike would be a major violation, one she wouldn’t quickly forgive me for. Especially if something happened and I damaged it. In the back of her mind, Kenzie hadn’t entirely given up on her dream yet—otherwise the Ducatis would be for sale. She was still hopeful for her future, and so was I. Kenzie was going to need those bikes again soon.
Grunts gave me the green light, and I eased my bike onto the street. The crowd around me was screaming, cheering on their preferred racer. The familiar noise and chaos filled me with intoxicating adrenaline. Racing in the ARRC had its own highs, but it didn’t quite compare to the raw intensity of street racing. There was a real element of danger here, not the watered-down version on the track. More could go wrong than right on the streets—the crowd knew that, and so did the racers. It amplified everything.
When I got to the crosswalk start line, I froze in a ready position. Just like in the ARRC, a bank of lights started the race. My body tensed in preparation as I waited for the red to shift to green. My heartbeat sped up, my breaths quickened—everything inside me wanted to go fast. I could barely contain my need to release the pent-up energy.
Neither could the guy beside me. He kept revving his engine, showing off how eager he was. Rookie mistake. When the moment came, he was either going to stall his bike, or be late on the draw. Either one worked for me. I waited as patiently as my impatient body would allow. The light suddenly changed, and I punched it; I beat the showoff beside me by a solid three seconds.
The crowds dissipated as we sped further into the city. We started hitting traffic as we raced for the checkpoints. Hookup had been scouting the course all week, finding out the best routes to get to each pre-determined place. He’d noted obstacles, construction, higher-patrolled areas, anything that might “legally” give me an edge. Earlier tonight, when he’d called me with the address, he’d spent an hour on the phone with me, debriefing me on everything he’d found out, and while the call had been tedious, I was grateful for his attention to detail; I stretched my lead to five seconds at the first checkpoint, seven at the second.
After I passed the third checkpoint, the final required destination before I could head back to the starting point, I felt damn-near invincible. I had this in the bag! But being behind had given my competitor a much-needed boost, and before I could blink, he was right on my tail, almost riding my rear tire. Cursing my ego for calling the race early, I hunched over the handlebars and pressed on the speed. Faster. I needed to be faster.
I’d developed racing skills in the last year that the average rider didn’t know, and I applied them all to give myself a slight advantage. I hung my body off the bike, I ducked low in the corners, rising at the last possible moment. Whatever it took to gain me fractions of a second. We breezed through red lights, blew past traffic like the cars on the road weren’t even moving. My brain catalogued the danger, but my heart didn’t care; this was for Kenzie.
The starting line came into view. My heart thudded against my ribcage; he was still too close. One small mistake on my part and he could blow right past me. No. I did not go through all this, hide all this from Kenzie, just to lose. Losing wasn’t an option. Knowing Hookup wasn’t going to help me miraculously win this time, that it was my skill and my skill alone that would save me, I pressed my bike to the max. I just had to not screw up. If I held it, I would be fine.
Clearing all doubt from my mind, I focused on an image of Kenzie. Her warm brown eyes, her full pouty lips, the look on her face when she said she loved me, the way her entire body seemed to glow when she raced.
I was so absorbed in my mental play by play of Kenzie, that I didn’t even notice when I crossed the finish line. I didn’t notice the race was over until I spotted crowds of people rushing onto the street, forcing me to slow down; I still almost clipped a few. I slammed on the brakes as safely as I could, then turned back toward the finish line to see who had crossed it first. My competitor was slamming his hands on his handlebars, looking pissed, and the swarms of people were heading my way, engulfing me now that I was stopped. Holy shit. I’d won!
Momentarily forgetting that I was hiding, I popped open my visor and scanned the crowd for Hookup. He was striding toward me, hands in the air. “You’re back, baby!” he yelled. I wanted to object, but I really couldn’t. I was back. For now. Until I had enough money to buy the track and return Kenzie to where she belonged.
The boisterous crowd around me was a little overwhelming, but I managed to break free and direct my bike toward Hookup. I was dying to know how much I’d made tonight. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw who was behind him. No…it wasn’t possible. The bystanders were starting to clear out of the street now, as the next race was getting underway. I was still stopped in place, though, staring at a certain someone who shouldn’t be there. Felicia.
When Hookup was a couple feet from me, I pulled my attention away from her, and directed my gaze his way. “What the fuck is she doing here?” I forcefully pointed at the intruder behind him.
Hookup looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “I don’t know. She showed up, figured she was with you. Great race, man!”
Hopping off my bike, I ignored him and stormed over to her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
A small smile graced her lips. “I could say the same of you.”
As I watched Hookup and Grunts rolling my bike off the street, out of the way, I inhaled a long, calming breath. Barking at her would get me nowhere. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice almost civil.
Felicia indicated the sidewalk, and we both started walking that way, following my bike. “I heard about the race, and figured Hookup would be here. I figured it was as good an opportunity as any to try to make amends with him. I had no idea you were still racing for him.” When we reached the sidewalk, she turned my way. “Why are you still racing for him?”
My answer was instinctively defensive. “I’m not.” She raised an eyebrow, and I sputtered an exhale. “It’s complicated, and none of your business.”
Her smile turned sad. “Seems like everything with you is none of my business these days.”
Damn straight. I held in that thought. It was really hard to do.
Felicia sighed in response to my silence. “Hayden, I know I hurt you, I know you don’t want to listen to Izzy, don’t want to listen to me, don’t want to hurt your…your girlfri
end…but I need you to understand. It’s killing me that you won’t even give me a chance—”
“Like the chance you gave us?” I snapped.
With clear remorse on her face, she averted her eyes. Looking around at where we were, I suddenly realized that Felicia now had the upper hand. She could make my life utter hell if she wanted, and if I pissed her off enough, she might want to. But I really didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Ever. I just couldn’t let her know that. I needed time.
“I’m not ready,” I whispered. It was a small enough kernel of hope that maybe she wouldn’t rat me out. But still, it surprised me how much the words stung with the pain of truth. I wasn’t ready. And even if Kenzie was completely out of the picture for some awful reason, I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to hear what Felicia had to say. To hear her excuse for ending us. Didn’t mean I wasn’t dying to know though.
A beautiful smile graced Felicia’s lips, throwing me back in time. I’d seen that smile on her so many times before, been the cause of it on so many occasions… The day we’d met, when I’d stopped a group of boys from picking on her. The day I’d made my move and had kissed her for the first time. The day I’d placed an anonymous tip with CPS and gotten her removed from a really bad situation. The day she’d sworn to me that she’d never run away again... So many times before she’d given me that smile, but it had never once hurt like this. Why did you kill us?
“Hey…you want to…get something to eat?” she asked. “I bet that diner that we used to go to is still around.”
I immediately shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about us. There is no us to talk about.”
Her face softened in compassion. “I know you don’t want to talk. That’s why I asked you if you wanted to eat. Maybe we’ll run into some people we used to know. Remember Kyle? Had high hopes of being a rock star. You ever hear from him?”
I knew what she was doing. Trying to get under my skin by reminding me of our shared history. And fuck if it wasn’t working. I was swirling in the past, mesmerized by who we used to be, back before things got complicated. We’d been wild and free then, nothing holding us back or tying us down. We’d done what we’d wanted, when we’d wanted. Antonia had been healthy, and while Izzy had struggled to make ends meet, she’d been able to get by enough on her own. I’d raced for fun, not necessity. I hadn’t felt guilty over ending someone’s career, felt obligation to do everything I could to help a sick child, or stressed about how long I’d be able to balance it all. My entire life hadn’t revolved around other people…just myself. And Felicia.