Mason “The point is, you’ve shown your hand, Sid. You’re a transparent, foolish jackass, and everyone knows it. Your time here is done.” Sid threw his head back in manic laughter. Laina was slipping under Benji’s arm and helping him to his feet. He staggered, and Rick went to her aid, sliding under his other arm. They walked him toward the Jeep and away from Sid and his band of not so merry men. I could hear Laina whispering to her brother that he would be all right, and I hoped Benji wasn’t too banged up. How long had the beating been going on before I got there? “Let me guess, Mason,” Sid said as he began pacing back and forth. He commanded the attention of everyone in the vicinity. “Are you going to be the one to get rid of me?” I smirked. “I’m here. Aren’t I?” The crowd rippled with laughter. Sid narrowed his eyes at me. He was losing his edge, and he knew it. The crowd favored me. He was scum. Sid lifted his
LainaI watched Mason close the back door of the Jeep as Rick slid into the driver’s seat. They paused to talk to each other in the open door, and Rick told Mason he would meet him at the finish line. Benji wasn’t capable of standing on his feet, so they were going to drive him to the end of the race, and as soon as Mason crossed the line, they would get the hell out of there before Sid and Mark got any other bright ideas to try to start a fight. Mason nodded and slapped his hand on the frame of the Jeep. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit. Lock the doors.” Rick chuckled. “I don’t think we’ll need to take those precautions.” “You have Ginny in the back seat. And Laina’s busted up brother. Just lock the damn doors.” Rick rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. Good luck.” “Don’t need it,” Mason said. Rick closed his door, and Mason turned to me. “You still up for this, flag girl?” I nodded. “Good,
Laina A lot could happen out on the streets. My throat tightened as I thought about the crash last weekend. The squeal of tires. The smashing and grinding of metal as the car hit the barrier. All the blood. Mason, passed out and slumped sideways in the driver’s seat. I shook my head. Now was not the time to think of such things. I was only making it harder on myself. This was Mason’s decision. I respected that, and I respected what he was fighting for. He needed to reclaim his title and push out the men who had turned this sport into a seedy, dangerous, underground game. Sure, street racing had always been illegal, but it hadn’t been as risky as it was with Sid and Mark. They took their business off the streets. They’d come to find you in your home and fuck you up if they thought you were a threat. All to win a stupid race. I sighed and tucked a corner of the flag in the back pocket of my jeans before
MasonThe Boxster was a speed demon. It ate pavement and cornered like a beast, which meant one thing. I was able to take risks. The roads weren’t as slick as I’d been anticipating. I was lucky that the rain had cleared up well before the race started. My tires had excellent traction, and I took corners tight—tighter than any of the other cars I watched in my mirrors. Those saved fractions of a second kept inching me farther and farther ahead of the group. And farther ahead of Mark and Sid. Their cars were at the front of the pack but were driving a good three or so car lengths behind me. And I was still losing them. I owed Kline big time for this car. The race Harley had planned led onto busier streets, as they all did, and when I hit one of the main roads, I opened up on the throttle, racing toward a red light I knew would turn green as my tires crossed the sidewalk. It did. I blew through the intersection. Peop
Mason The crowd was moving like a wave, jumping in place as my car hurtled toward them. I indulged in one last look in the mirror. Sid and Paul were still trailing behind. They’d caught up but not by much. I still had at least a car length on both of them, and that was more than enough to guarantee me first place. My cheeks stretched in a grin that I was incapable of concealing. The screams of the crowd reached my ears. Harley was there, standing near the front, waving Laina’s red flag as I closed in. The spray-painted red line passed beneath my tires. I took my speed off as Sid and Mark crossed behind me. I came to a slow stop at the end of the road and waited for the rest of the cars to finish the race before I circled back, driving at a snail’s pace, and kept my eyes peeled for my people. I spotted Laina first. She exploded out of the crowd, her face alight with joy, and leaped over the barrier to r
LainaI gripped the edges of my seat, and the leather creaked beneath my fingers. Sid Paul looked like a rabid dog at the end of the Porsche’s hood. He had both hands planted firmly on the glossy black paint, and he was looking at Mason with a crooked sneer. Blood ran from his nose over his upper lip and into his mouth. My stomach rolled. I just wanted to get the hell out of here. “Mason,” I said nervously. He was half out of the car. One foot was still flat on the floor, and the other was on the gravel outside. He had his right arm resting on the hood of the Boxster and his left draped over the door. From where I was sitting, Mason didn’t look concerned at all. But I was concerned. I was very concerned. Sid slammed his hands down on the hood again, broadcasting his crazy to the stragglers who had lingered after the race ended. “Keep your hands off the car,” Mason said. His voice was much calmer than I expected it
Laina We stopped for booze at a store down the street from Mason’s house. While we were there, I picked up Tylenol in case Mason ran out soon along with some bandages. I’d noticed Mason’s split knuckles in the car and wanted to wrap them for him. I was sure Benji and Rick would have the same problem—among others. Benji most of all. Afterward, we got back into the car and finished the drive home. The lights were on, and the Jeep was in the driveway when we got back to Mason’s. We went inside and found the others in the living room. Benji was sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed. He had an ice pack over his swollen eye but cracked open his good one when he heard us come in. “What took you two so long?” he asked sharply. Rick stood up from his place on the opposite sofa beside Ginny and took one of the bags from Mason’s hand. He peered into it and pulled out a bottle of tequila while saying, “I bet they were, you know, celebrating.”
MasonMy hangover wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting when I woke up on Sunday morning. Laina was asleep beside me, curled up on her side facing the window. She had the blankets all wrapped up around her legs to such an extent that I had no idea where she ended and the blankets began. Getting out of bed would be difficult for her. I didn’t want to wake her. She’d had a long night, having had to deal with Sid, watch her brother get his ass kicked, and handle the adrenaline rush of waiting for me to cross the finish line. It was a lot of stress for a person to bear, and she never showed a single crack in her foundation. Well. Maybe a little. But I couldn’t blame her for that. We’d all cut loose after really getting into the tequila last night. Before I knew it, the stereo was cranked and both Laina and Ginny were dancing in my living room while the three of us boys drank and talked about cars. Of course, I was only indulging Benji in the c