Drew
The day job was the actual equivalent to a soul-sucking grim reaper.
Every morning I got up and put on my dress pants and button-down shirts. I had a drawer full of ties with stripes and “professional” patterns. I hated wearing a tie. What was the point? Like a scrap of silk hanging around my neck was supposed to make me more capable of doing my job?
Felt more like a noose.
Some days when I got to work and the boss wasn’t there, I took it off and shoved it in my desk drawer. And every day, I wore my leather jacket on the drive to the office because at least it made me feel a little bit more like me.
It was getting harder and harder to get up every morning and go to a job I really hated.
Okay, to be fair, I didn’t hate the actual job. I didn’t mind messing around on computers. I was good at it. But doing it all day, every day, to the tune of someone else’s instructions?
Fucking torture.
I needed this job. It paid well, even for a basic position, not at some fancy company like my father wanted me to be at. That’s why I stayed. With the salary I was paid, I was able to cover the portion of the rent and shit at the house and still have a lot left over, which I could put into my car.
Granted, I probably wouldn’t have so much left for the car if I had to pay actual rent. Especially for a house like the one I lived in. A four-bedroom, two-story in one of the best neighborhoods in the entire state. We had our own gym, an updated kitchen, big family room with a fireplace, and a fenced-in backyard. The driveway was big enough for all our cars, and there was even room in the garage for me to store all the tools and shit I used on the Mustang.
‘Course, I wished I could park my car in the garage, but that’s where Romeo’s lime-green Hellcat was kept.
I wasn’t mad about it, though. The guy paid an entire year of the rent up front and then moved in the entire family (except Trent). The only thing all of us split was the utilities. So yeah, I was lucky because I had a lot left over for my car and shit.
I wasn’t sure how much longer we’d be living here, though.
Romeo and Braeden were building some big house they were calling a “compound.” It was a huge place with a wall around the entire property (which was several acres).
For realz.
Being they were both pro football players and now my sister had her own column with People magazine and a popular YouTube channel (all about fashion and girl stuff), the press never left them alone.
Soon as Ivy announced she was pregnant with my niece (a total surprise, by the way), the plans for the compound were moved up, because everyone agreed we all needed the privacy and the protection.
Rimmel, Romeo’s wife, had been through a lot of shit over the years, and Romeo was like a freaking lion with a den full of cubs when it came to protecting her. Even though they didn’t have kids, the press hounded her, following her around and sometimes staking out the animal shelter she ran just hoping for a picture of a “baby bump” she didn’t have.
Hell, even on pancake Sunday, it was getting hard to have a family meal because my family was a bunch of celebrities.
Soon as the house was done, this place wouldn’t be needed anymore, so I wasn’t sure where I’d go. I’d probably just rent my own apartment or maybe a one-bedroom house with a garage for my car.
I’d been putting aside money out of every paycheck so I’d have a decent amount saved for a deposit and shit.
I think Ivy assumed I’d be coming to the compound with her and the fam. I wasn’t sure that was in the cards for me. I didn’t want to impose on the couples. Sometimes I felt like a fifth wheel. Not that I’d ever say that to my sister. She’d give me a lecture.
I’d miss the baby, though… My niece totally stole my heart from the day she was born. I’d never been a kid person, but she wasn’t just a kid.
Nova had me wrapped around her tiny pink finger.
Sometimes I was on uncle duty with her so B and Ivy could get out and be alone. I liked it, though. She was a good listener, and unlike most women, she never gave me crap.
I figured that might change when she started talking, but I’d enjoy it while I could.
Maybe after Trent graduated, I’d see if he wanted to throw in on a rental with me.
He’d been quiet lately.
I’d barely talked to him since we got back from the meeting with Gamble. He texted to bow out of pancake Sunday, and I hadn’t talked to him at all the rest of the day. When I texted him this morning, he hadn’t answered, so I called.
Fuck how early the clock said it was. He always answered my texts.
I didn’t realize how uptight I’d been feeling until his gruff, half-asleep voice came on the line. Even if he was being a grouchy bastard, just hearing his voice relaxed me.
We didn’t talk long ‘cause he was still half asleep (and a grouchy bastard) and I had to go to work and protect my soul. I asked him if everything was okay. He said it was.
I wasn’t sure I believed him. Something was up. I wanted to know what it was.
I’d looked at my phone several times today. And the clock. I knew T’s schedule. We’d been friends long enough I knew his general daily routine. Every time I knew he was in between classes, at lunch, or likely not to be in the middle of something, I picked up my phone.
I set it back down right after, though.
I didn’t text him. I didn’t call.
He didn’t either. He was avoiding me.
I was starting to think I was avoiding him, too.
Maybe that’s why I was in even more of a disgruntled mood today. Maybe it wasn’t just the tie around my neck, this stupid desk, the bright glow of the desktop computer in front of me, and the shitty coffee at my elbow. Might as well drink an ashtray.
“Seriously, though!” I yelled over my cubby. “Who made this coffee?”
The only reply was a few muffled laughs and some mumbled agreements.
On my lunch break, I flipped through the latest issue of GearShark and read the feature article on Roger Bones, the new king of NASCAR.
It didn’t help my mood either.
The more excited I got for our new revolution in racing and bringing the underground scene out of the dark, the more pissy I felt toward the pros.
There was a clear line drawn between the two groups. On one side lived the pro racers, loaded with sponsors and money. They got the spotlight and all the attention. Then on the other side were all the indie drivers like me. We weren’t “professional” because we didn’t have the money and the backing of big companies. Because my leather jacket didn’t have a million logos proving my substance, I wasn’t worth a dime.
What a double standard.
I did the work. I drove more than the pros did. They didn’t get as much track time as I logged on the streets weekly. They likely didn’t do the work on their own cars because they had a team to do it for them. They didn’t have to get out there and talk to pit crews, men who worked at the raceways, etc. because they already had the attention they needed.
It was a bunch of horseshit.
I couldn’t wait ‘til the indies could prove themselves. No, we wouldn’t be driving against the pro drivers, because we were in a different division.
But maybe someday.
Until then, it would be sweet enough to make them share the spotlight.
I wondered about Gamble, if he was getting the ball rolling. I was anxious to get started. The sooner we could make this happen, the sooner I could get the hell out from behind this desk.
My babysitter was supposed to be here tonight. I knew nothing about him except his name was Joey. I hoped he wasn’t some stuck-up driver who thought he was better just because he was a pro.
If that were the case, it was going to be a long fucking couple weeks. Or however long he was supposed to be riding shotgun with me.
Trent knew the guy was coming today. He hadn’t said shit about it. Did he just not care anymore?
Maybe he’s just busy. Chill, dude.
God. I was acting like a goddamned woman.
He’d call when he could. He did have a busy schedule.
Ten minutes before quitting time, I shut down the programs I had open and powered off my desktop. I made a show of straightening up my paperwork and desk and thumbed through a few more pages of GearShark before the clock finally hit five.
I sprang up out of my office chair with more excitement than I’d showed the entire day, grabbed my suit jacket, and hot-footed it outside.
In the parking lot, I unknotted the tie and let it drape over my shoulders. After I unbuttoned the buttons at my neck, I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows and shoved my hands through my hair, messing it up a little.
I was feeling more like myself already.
The Fastback was parked near the building, and I paused to throw my suit jacket in the trunk, exchanging it for my leather.
Before I took off, I checked my phone. Still no calls or texts.
On the way home, I played the music as loud as I could stand and cracked the window so the cold air swirled around in the interior.
If it were summer, I’d have all the windows rolled down. Nothing better than an open road, loud music, and the fresh air whipping through the car. It was complete freedom.
When I pulled up to the house, the Mustang jerked a little, following my sudden reaction to the unfamiliar car in the driveway.
Unfamiliar in a familiar way that is.
The neon-yellow Skyline was unmistakable. I’d just raced it over the weekend when it appeared on the track out of nowhere.
And disappeared just as quickly.
No introduction. No greeting. Nothing.
When I asked about the driver, Gamble smiled and told me he’d be my mentor.
I couldn’t exactly tell him no, though I really fucking wanted to. The last person I wanted to learn anything from was some douche who thought he was too good to introduce himself to me. And he drove like an asshole.
A fast asshole, but one all the same.
Fine. The dude could drive. I could barely keep up.
He was probably arrogant about it, too.
Since I didn’t have a choice, I pulled into the driveway, around the Skyline (avoiding looking at it), and parked in my usual spot.
B’s sweet-ass fancy truck was in the driveway. It was spotless. I was pretty sure he still got a hard-on when he looked at it. It was a Christmas gift from everyone. When Ivy asked me what kind of truck would be good for her husband, I jokingly pointed to one that was rare, expensive, and badass.
I never thought she’d get ahold of one.
I really should’ve known better. All she had to do was go bat her eyes at Romeo and the truck appeared just like that.
Rome seriously had some pull in life. There wasn’t anything I’d seen him want that he didn’t get.
I glanced in the rearview and made out the shape of someone sitting in the driver’s seat. Clearly, they were waiting for me.
I resisted the urge to bang my head on the steering wheel and got out. I didn’t hurry over to the car (which was clearly well taken care of). Instead, I took my time, like I was taking a stroll.
The sky was twilight, daylight fading fast. In the next half hour or so, the sky would be totally dark.
I was ready for summer. Warm nights. Long days.
The door opened, and I stopped walking, bracing myself for this guy. A pair of small feet hit the ground, and my forehead wrinkled.
I watched, fascinated, as the person stepped around the door and slammed it closed.
My eyes traveled from the feet, up the black denim-covered legs, rounded hips, narrow waist, and my mouth dropped open when I hit the pair of perfectly globe-like tits.
“You’re gonna catch flies,” the stranger said, clear amusement in her voice.
Yeah. Her.
It was a woman.
I forced my eyes off her chest (which was seriously impressive) to her face. I blinked.
“You’re a girl.”
Her straight, white teeth flashed beneath pale, glossy lips. “Nice of you to notice.”
She had creamy skin, smooth and even. It wasn’t too pale, but it wasn’t very tan either. Her face was shaped like a heart, her cheekbones wide and high. Her chin was slightly pointy, but there was a faint cleft in the center.
She watched me with open humor through green eyes rimmed with impossibly dark lashes. Topping it all off was her hair. There was a lot of it and it was dark, not quite black, but way too dark to be just brown. It was long and curly, kind of wild, like she too liked to drive with the windows down.
Her long, shapely legs came forward, carrying her close. The woman was fairly tall, taller than all the women in my house. She was probably close to five feet seven. I stood there still stunned as she reached up and pushed up on my chin, closing my mouth, which was totally hanging open.
“I thought Joey was coming,” I said.
She smirked and stuck her hand between us. “I’m Josephine. Joey for short.”
I put my hand in hers and we shook.
“That’s your car?” I gestured to the Skyline.
“That’s the one.”
“You were driving the other day?” I asked, skeptical.
She smirked again. I was beginning to think it was a bad habit of hers. “Smoked you.”
I made a scoffing sound and yanked my hand back. “Like hell you did!”
She laughed, totally thrilled she pissed me off. “Don’t worry.” She patted my chest. “You kept up better than most. Even with a car that—”
I snatched her hand off my chest and growled. “You insult my car and I’ll kick your ass.”
She pressed the hand to her chest and batted her green eyes. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to speak to a lady that way?”
I rolled my eyes. “Something tells me you can handle it.”
“So, ah…” She gestured to my clothes. “Leather and dress pants. I like it.”
“I just got off work,” I grouched.
“And I can see the battle happening between your real job and the one you want.”
I bristled. “Driving is a real job. Just because I don’t have some fancy sponsor like you.”
“Down, boy.” She whistled. “I was kidding.”
“Real drivers don’t joke about racing.”
Her lips pursed, and she studied me. I stared back at her levelly. She was totally not what I was expecting tonight.
“He was right,” she declared.
“Who?” I demanded.
“Gamble. He said you have what it takes to pull in an entire fan base.”
I snorted. I learned it from my lovely snorty sister Rimmel. “And why’s that?”
“Passion. You have it. Lots of it.”
“And what do you think about the indie’s getting a chance at their own mainstream sport?” I challenged, lifting a brow.
Beneath her lip, her tongue slid over her teeth as she stared at me. “Honestly?” she spoke, and I prepared myself for a total asshole comment. “I’m jealous.”
I blinked. That was not what I was expecting.
I seemed to be thinking that about her a lot.
“Come again?” I asked.
She shrugged. “A whole new racing division? No rules, starting from scratch to make it whatever you want it to be? Sounds amazing.” Her last words were spoken in a wistful sigh.
“I think most drivers would say your setup sounds amazing.”
“Yeah, nothing like being ordered to the other side of the state to teach someone how to drive that doesn’t need taught and who clearly doesn’t want you around.”
Damn. That was spot on.
I grinned. “You think I don’t need to be taught?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know how to drive,” she allowed. “But you definitely have things to learn. You’re like a wildcard behind the wheel.”
I took that as a compliment.
“Come on.” I motioned and went toward the front door. “I need to take off this uniform.”
I went ahead to open the door, and I totally felt her checking out my ass. “Enjoying the view?” I called out.
“I’ve seen better,” she answered.
I laughed out loud. At least she didn’t deny she was looking.
Inside, I kicked off my dress shoes (which were obviously designed by Satan) and motioned for her to shut the door. I hung my jacket nearby and pulled my cell out of my pocket, checking the screen for any texts.
None.
My palm settled over the back of my neck, and I rubbed the tension building there.
The sound of toenails clicking over the hardwood made me smile, and I pocketed my phone just as Prada (my sister’s Chihuahua) bounced into the room, wearing a pink tutu.
The second she saw Joey, she started barking and growling like she was going to eat her.
“Good girl!” I told her and patted her on the head.
“Funny,” Joey replied and crouched down, offering her hand to Prada.
To my surprise, the dog stopped yapping and approached her cautiously. “Animals love me.”
“Forrester, get in here!” yelled a voice from the kitchen.
I smiled. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my brother-in-law.” He’d eat her alive, and it would be so fun to watch.
Braeden was standing in the kitchen with Nova in his arms. Looked like he just finished feeding her because there was food all over the counter and on him.
But there wasn’t a spot on the little angel in his arms.
“You need a shower,” I told him.
Nova grinned at me, her fat baby cheeks rounding out even more.
“There’s my girl!” I said. She leaned her body toward me, and I snatched her out of B’s arms. When the baby snuggled against my shoulder for a few long seconds, my heart felt full.
“Giving your daddy hell I hope.”
She lifted her head and looked up. Her eyes were blue like mine. I still maintained she got them from me and not her mother. They were lined with dark lashes, and the downy hair on her head was completely dark, too. She got that from her father. She had some kind of headband around her head. It was black and white striped and had a giant gold flower on the side. The pants covering her lower half were black and white striped and her T-shirt was white with a big gold hashtag in the center.
Clearly, Ivy had dressed her.
I kissed her cheeks loudly while supporting her head, and she laughed. B cleared his throat and glanced at Joey.
She didn’t wait for me to introduce her. Instead, she stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Joey, the driver here to school Drew.”
Oh God. Here we go.
“Aww shit!” Braeden guffawed. “Drew’s getting schooled by a woman?” he cracked and swung to me. “Dude. You’re getting schooled by a girl.”
I covered Nova’s ears and mouthed the words, Screw you, at him.
Braeden chuckled and glanced back at Joey. “I’m Braeden, married to Drew’s sister. Maker of that bundle of cuteness right there.” He pointed at Nova.
Joey smiled. “She’s definitely cute.”
“That’s because my sister made her.” I corrected. “Where is she anyway?”
“Filming a video for her channel,” Braeden answered, dumping the dishes he used in the sink. “She’s trying to get ahead so when I go back to training, she’ll have more free time.”
“What do you do?” Joey asked.
I laughed. “He’s a football player for the Knights.”
“Right,” Joey said. “I should have known that, I guess.”
“No reason to.” B shrugged. I knew without him saying he was glad she had no idea who he was. As a rule, we didn’t bring strangers around the house. Ever. It was too hard to trust people. Most of them just wanted a piece of him or Romeo. Or the girls.
At least now we knew it wouldn’t be an issue to have Joey around, since she would be for the foreseeable future.
“Hey, you mind watching her while I jump in the shower?” He gestured to his shirt, which was still covered in baby food. “Someone didn’t like her dinner.” He glowered at Nova.
She laughed.
“Sure, man, go ahead. After, we’re gonna head out.”
Braeden stopped in the doorway. “Where’s Trent been?”
I wasn’t the only one who noticed his absence. “Stuff going on at the fraternity,” I said.
“I texted him and he didn’t reply. Rome either.” He went on. “You better tell him if he don’t answer soon, we’re gonna ride over there and beat his ass.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything else. I didn’t know what else to say.
When B was gone, Joey spoke. “Trent is your manager, right? The guy at the track the other day?”
“Yeah,” I replied, going to the fridge for a water. I really wanted a beer. But that was a bad example for the little lady in my arms. Plus, we’d probably be out driving tonight.
“I’d like to meet him,” she said, sitting down at the island.
I handed her a water.
“Sure,” I said, perking up a little. “Soon as B’s done, we can drive over to where he lives. I’ll introduce you.”
I wasn’t really doing it for her. I was using her as an excuse to go over there. Just to see him.
Once I made sure he was okay, I could go back to avoiding him.