Miguel appears from behind a tool chest carrying a wrench, lost in thought. When he spots me, he lifts his chin in greeting. “Cam.”
“Hey, how's it goin'?”
“It's goin',” he answers, stepping closer. Then he jerks his head up at my car. “You sure made a mess of it.” His attention then swings to my head, looking over the faded bruises and the section where the hair is growing back. “Pretty fucked up.”
“I know.” That uncomfortable feeling of being a screw-up seeps into my pores and crawls beneath my skin, making it itchy. It has me stuffing my hands into my pockets so I don't fidget. It's the same type of feeling I got any time I was in the same room as my parents after that night. “But you'll have it all fixed up?”
“Did you doubt me?”
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “No. But I only saw the damage to the surface of it.”
It wouldn't matter how bad it was anyway. Miguel is a fucking magician when it comes to cars. Give him a hunk of metal and some tires, and he can transform it into something that looks like it belongs in those calendars; amazing and fast, not to mention pretty.
“Yes. I'll have it fixed up.” He taps the wrench in his palm a few times while looking at the under-body of my car, then drops it into a nearby tray. “It's gonna cost you, though.”
“I know,” I say with a heavy sigh. “How much you thinking?”
Miguel crosses his arms across his chest, appearing slightly more intimidating than usual. He's generally a pretty nice guy, but he's also someone you never want to cross. “What's Reese getting for this?”
“Two races.”
“Double that for Jorge and me,” he answers without missing a beat. “And we have a deal.”
Fuck. Six races in total. Six races I have to do for free. I don't exactly have a choice, either. If I don't do them and give him the money from winning, he'll take the car back. And if I don't have a car, I can't race to pay Reese back. Not that I'd do that to either of them anyway. Miguel has done a shit-ton of work and deserves to be paid for it. And Reese has organized hundreds of races for me over the years, so I owe him for that. Plus, he got me to the hospital after the accident.
It's not as if I don't have the money to do some races for free. I have little bundles of cash all over my apartment, buried in pockets or drawers. The problem is more so about the lack of choice in the matter and being tied to this world, even if I would have been regardless.
“Alright,” I agree.
A woman approaches the two of us a second later, leaning in to whisper something in Miguel's ear. His arm curls around her waist as she does so, and he rests a hand on her ass, giving it a squeeze. I'm not sure whether this chick is his girlfriend, an office girl, or just someone he's currently fucking, but I'm sure it's the same girl who was draped across another guy's lap while riding his hand the last time I was here.
I never really cared about that type of thing before, sharing a girl with others or even being with one who has been with most of the guys around me, but now, I find it really unappealing, aturn-off.
This girl's hair is almost the same color as Jasmine's, so of course, I start thinking about her again, and I can't help but compare the two. I doubt Jaz would ever hop around from guy to guy and I certainly can't see her riding some guy's hand in front of other people. Just the thought of her actually doing that pisses me off. Why? I couldn't tell you.
I think back to the last night I saw her. I didn't want her to walk into a messy apartment again, so I put some effort into cleaning it up and even went as far as mopping the floor. Then, when I was sitting around with nothing left to do, anxiously waiting for her to arrive, I took two shots of tequila just to take the edge off. I wasn't in nearly as bad a shape as when I had that dizzy spell, so I was fine after drinking them.
It still bothers me that she went out of her way to look after me multiple times, and I never got to thank her properly. I don't want to simplysay,“Thank you,” either. I want toshowmy gratitude as well.
After getting things sorted with Miguel and chatting with both him and Jorge for a bit longer, I get into the back seat of another Uber. But I'm not headed home just yet. Jasmine told me she doesn't get a lot of time off, so I'm counting on her being at work.
The driver lets me out by the main entrance, and I make my way inside the doors. But as soon as I'm inside, I come to a stop. I've got no fucking clue of where to go from here. I hadn't exactly been paying attention to anything other than making an escape that night when I walked out of here.
She could be anywhere, and that's if she's even here right now. Even if she's working today, she could be starting later, or maybe she finished early. Shit. This was a dumb idea. I should have just sent her a text. I guess I could still send her one and ask if she's working and in what section.
Stepping back out into the sunshine, I pull out my phone and sit on a nearby bench. Just as I'm finished typing and about to hit send, I hear my name being called.
“Cam?” Tipping my head upward, I see the vision that is Jasmine approaching me with that familiar questioning look on her face. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes do a quick sweep of the surrounding area as if the reason will appear from nearby before returning her sights to me.
“I came to see you.”
“Me?”
My head dips once in a nod. “Yeah. Actually, I was just sending you a text 'cause I realized I didn't know where to find you. Guess I found you after all.”
She takes a seat beside me on the bench. “I'm on a short break. I left my phone in my car and just went to grab it.” She waves said phone in her hand and then cocks her head, causing her ponytail to dangle to the side and expose the delicate skin of her neck. “What did you want to see me for?”
Pocketing my phone, I twist my body so I'm facing her better. “I still owe you for what you did for me.”
