Chapter Eleven
Darren
I awoke on Monday morning to a call from my mom.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” Slowly, I got out of bed and went over to the window. Yellow-golden spring sunlight shone down on the evergreens and azaleas that lined the front yard. A middle-aged woman in yoga pants jogged briskly past, leading a pug on a leash. Across the street, a couple kids were playing in the stone fountain that stood in the center of the park.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” said Mama slowly. “And that you weren’t dead or in jail.”
“Mama, you ought to know me better’n that,” I said with a smile. “How many times have I been to jail in my life?” I held up two fingers, although she couldn’t see them. “Twice. I have only been to jail twice!”
“I know, but your dad explained to me what drag racing is, and I’ve been really worried about you all weekend. You weren’t answering your texts yesterday, and I thought maybe you had been hurt. Then this morning I saw on the news that there’d been a police chase and that they had apprehended one of the drivers.”
“Not me, though. Me and my friend were smart enough to get away.”
“Well, it sounds like it was a close thing. Sometimes I wish you’d find yourself a girl who could help you settle down. You’re almost twenty-two years old. It’s time you started thinking about raising a family and taking care of a woman. You can’t keep putting your life in danger once you’ve got kids to look after.”
A man and woman in matching athletic shorts were jogging up the street together. The man turned to wave at me; I smiled back at him. “Mama, I promise I’ll quit racing once I’ve got kids of my own.”
“You’d better,” she said. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“You didn’t even ask me how much money I won.”
“Did you win the race? I hadn’t heard anything about cash prizes.”
“There was a very substantial cash prize. That’s the whole reason I was competing.”
“Well, how much did you make?”
“Forty thousand dollars,” I said proudly.
“Well, that’s great—especially for one weekend. I just wish you wouldn’t have to risk your neck to make it.”
“Mom, I was never in any danger. I know how to put on a seatbelt and helmet. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll come over for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“Would you? That would be great.”
By the time we got off the phone, I could tell Mom was proud of me, though she didn’t want to say so for fear of encouraging me in my bad habits. Throwing on my work uniform and heading into the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of orange juice and fried up the last of the hash browns from the bag in the fridge. Over those, I sprinkled shredded cheese and some Cajun seasoning from a spice rack she had given me for my last birthday.
The hash browns were delicious but not particularly filling. On my way to work that morning, I picked up another box of donuts for me and Dickie. I found him in the garage hunched under the hood of the Mustang.
“What’s wrong with the car?” I asked him, setting the box down on the counter.
“Just making a few adjustments, is all.” He held up a small socket wrench that was covered in black tar. “It was making an odd rattling noise when I started it this morning, so I wanted to make sure it was still working properly.”
“Penny was tearing up the road on our way through Dallas the other day, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some damage to the lining. I don’t understand why she refuses to race; I’ve never seen anybody drive that fast.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to get arrested,” Dickie suggested.
“That is undoubtedly why she was running from the police. But at least we managed to get away before they caught us.”
Dickie turned and flung the wrench onto the counter, where it landed with a loud clatter. He looked irritated, and I could tell he was barely paying attention. “Adam came in here this morning wanting to see you,” he said in an annoyed voice. “I told him I wasn’t expecting you in until later.”
“Oh, yeah? What did he want?”
“Nothing good, if you ask me. He’s still furious that you won the race and he’s determined to take you down a peg.”
“Oh, yeah?” I swung my legs over the counter and sat down in the large swivel chair. “How’s he expectin’ to do that?”
“He, for some reason, thinks it would be a good idea for you to wager your cars. Whoever wins the next race gets to keep their opponent’s car.”
I was so surprised that for a moment I didn’t react. Then, once the initial shock had passed, I burst out laughing. “I mean, why not? I’ve beaten him before; I can do it again.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Dickie, clutching at his stomach. “We’ve invested too much time and money and effort into that car for Adam to be parading around in it. If he won, he would never let you forget it.”
“Anyway, I brought you some breakfast. It’s over there on the counter. I think I’m gonna run over to the auto parts store and look around for a bit.”
Dickie jerked his head up and studied me quizzically. “Any particular reason?”
It should have been clear from the frozen expression on my face that I hadn’t thought of a reason. “I mean, I guess if you need me here…”
“No, no, now I’m curious,” he said with a shrewd look. “Were you just going to stroll the aisles? No plan or agenda?”
“Yeah. Like I said, I don’t need to go.” I tossed off my hat and threw it down on the counter, adding in a quiet voice, “I’ll just stay here.”