CharlieBenji’s house wasn’t really what I expected. Although I didn’t really know what to expect. He had an unreadable air about him when it came to trying to figure out the more personal details about his life. He didn’t behave like a street racer or conform to what my idea was of a man who spent his time participating in an illegal underground racing ring in New York City. He ran a shelter for troubled youths for crying out loud.His house was quaint and simple but inviting. It was one level with a black roof and white siding that looked pretty fresh. His front yard was tiny but not the smallest I’d seen in New York City; I could probably lie down on the patch of grass and have it end at the top of my head and bottom of my feet.He had no garage, but rather a carport. Around the side of the carport was a chain link gate which opened up into the backyard where I could see a detached shop around back, probably used for fixing up cars back in his racing days. On the other side of the

BenjiSaturday rolled around quickly. After my night with Charlie on Thursday all I wanted to do was spend more time with her, but I had to spend the day at the shelter on Friday and she had to work the night shift at Ascension. Our schedules were polar opposites, which seemed like a cruel and specific form of punishment, and when Rick and I pulled into the parking lot where the race was to start on Saturday the first thing I did after getting out of the Jeep was look around for her.For my girl.Rick rolled his eyes at me. “Jesus, you’re like a toddler looking for his mother.”There wasn’t a thing he could say that would dampen my spirits. I was more looking forward to seeing Charlie than I was to the race itself. And that said a lot.“Don’t be so bitter, Rick. It’s not a good look for you.”He snorted and shook his head at me.Mason and Laina pulled up and parked behind us. My sister hopped out of the passenger side of the car and hurried around the hood to greet me with a hug. “Hey

CharlieMy heart shot up into my throat when Benji came sliding around the corner at the end of the track. His headlights lit up the stretch of road and the people gathered at the front of the line in a glow of white. I clenched my fists so tight as I threw my hands up in the air, my nails dug right into my palms.“Yes!” I cried.Harley shot me a look, threw her head back and laughed, and then joined me in cheering as Benji maintained the lead down the final stretch. The Lancer he’d started beside rounded the corner not far behind him, but on open road like this with no corners, he had no shot of overtaking the Hellcat.Benji had the victory in the bag.My voice rang out through the crowd as I cried his name when Benji crossed the line. Others joined me in my chant, and by the time the other cars had finished the race and the drivers were opening their doors, the whole crowd echoed my cry.Benji was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning when he stepped out of his car. Mason and Ric

BenjiWhen I got to work on Tuesday morning I was happy to find the place calm and quiet. Monday had been a shit show at the shelter and I needed a slower day. Time to see about typical housekeeping, general operations and business tasks. I also had to try and figure out how the hell I was going to use the money Charlie had raised at the fundraiser.There were priorities, luxuries, and competing interests, being the person to make the decisions brought more pressure than I anticipated. Choosing one thing from the list meant removing another—taking away from someone or something. If I wanted that punching bag for some of the kids to work through their anger, that meant I sacrificed the new sofas for the community room. If I wanted new beds that meant I was packing more kids into each room. If I wanted outdoor activities then we missed out on indoor activities for the kids who’d rather stay inside.Where there was a win there was a loss. And where kids were involved I didn’t like taking

CharlieFor a Thursday, Ascension was bumping. It was so busy that we had to close the doors and stop letting people in for a good forty five minutes or so to avoid going over maximum capacity. Once a good chunk of people left for the evening we were able to let more in, which was great, because the turnover meant fresh blood and fresh money for my girls.I’d spent my last two hours as a ‘floater.’ Basically, I was everyone’s bitch for the night. If the bartender needed help I’d slide behind the bar and mix the easy drinks—the ones with no more than four ingredients that involved no shaking or blending. If the servers were falling behind on bringing orders to their tables I’d grab a tray and hop in. I’d do my best to charm the pants off the customers to make sure my girls got good tips.I also ran back and forth between the bar and the red room so I could make sure all my dancers had fresh water at their vanity before and after their set.By the time midnight rolled around I was a not