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She sighed. “Really? Great, more money to shell out.”
Weston climbed to his feet and glanced over at me, then back at her. “Leave it with me, I can sort it for you. I know a place that does them cheap. Part-worn ones.”
Because it was Weston, and she trusted him, she didn’t even question it. “Thanks, that would be great. Let me know how much I owe you.”
“No problem. I’ll pick the car up early Tuesday morning, is that okay? You can give me your key on Monday at uni if you don’t want to get up early.”
“Yeah, perfect. I don’t think I’ll need to use it that day.”
“Sorted.” They hugged each other, and then he walked around and opened the R8 passenger door. He paused for a moment, leaning across the car roof. “Hey, Winter? You coming to the big bonfire night party next Saturday for Guy Fawkes?”
“What party?”
“Didn’t you hear about it? At Alstone Castle?”
She shrugged unenthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not really in a party mood at the moment, but ask me again at the end of the week.”
“I will. And you’d better be there.”
She gave him a half-smile and got into her car, while Weston slid in next to me.
“Happy now?”
“Not really.” I started the engine, and the car purred to life.
“When are you going to admit that you want her?”
“Don’t fucking start,” I warned, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
He huffed and slumped back in his seat.
We drove home in silence.
Pulling up outside the house, I couldn’t shake the tension running through me. Weston climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I clenched and unclenched my fists on the steering wheel, my leg bouncing restlessly.
The next minute, Zayde was sliding into the car next to me. “Let’s go.”
I hit the music system and peeled away from the driveway with a screech, the sounds of Breaking Benjamin reverberating through the surround sound speakers, matching my black mood, and we raced down the country lanes and onto the wide road that ran parallel to the headland. I let the car fly down the mostly empty road at high speeds, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
We reached a smaller built-up area, with rows of red-brick Victorian terraced houses, all identical, and I turned the music down low. I slowed the car and cruised to a stop outside a house with a nondescript faded red door, my mood calmer after the rush of speeding down the empty roads in my R8.
Z punched out a message on his phone, and a couple of minutes later, a dark hooded figure emerged from the house, silently closing the door behind him.
Zayde rolled down his window, and the guy leaned in.
“Z.” They bumped fists, and then he nodded to me. “Rich boy.”
“Alright, Mack.” Zayde handed him a roll of notes, and Mack slipped a bag out of the sleeve of his hoodie, placing it in Zayde’s hand.
“Cheers.”
“See ya next time.” Mack backed away from the car and jogged back to the house, disappearing inside. I started up the engine, smoothly pulling away and heading back towards Alstone.
The car was silent, moving through the empty streets, the sea on one side and fields on the other. As we reached the outskirts of Alstone, nearing our home, and houses became visible on the horizon, something caught my eye. I spun the steering wheel, screeching to a halt outside a large Regency-style mansion house, and I was up and out of the car before I could think twice, Zayde right there with me.
“Granville!”
James Granville turned around at my shout, annoyance crossing his face. “What do you want?”
