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She sits up quickly. “Your plan. I like your plan better. It can’t be worse than that.”
I hope she remembers this conversation when she’s staring down the barrel of a positive pregnancy test.
I kiss her one last time and start the car, and I drive the long way home, just to give myself more time to hold her hand.
* * *
The Chevrolet Impalais delivered the next morning, and I get her settled into the garage. With some time, parts, and hard work, I can have this car looking and driving beautifully, and sell it for an excellent profit to a private dealer.
If I don’t get the money that’s owed me, this will be my life. The same goal, to own my own garage, but I’ll have to build it up slowly from scratch, car by car.
I smile as I wipe dust from the hood of the Impala with a damp cloth. With Mia at my side, a baby on the way, and no one to answer to but my new family, I’d be deliriously happy living a humble existence and doing what I love. Life feels hopeful when even plan B is better than anything you’ve ever known before.
In the afternoon I head to the gym. It’s chest and arms day and I’m sweating and exhausted when I finish my workout.
In the changing rooms I pull a T-shirt on over my head. It catches over my pectoral muscles like a crop top before I can pull it all the way down. With my chest bare and my wet hair in my eyes, I snap a selfie and upload it to Instagram.
Obnoxious? Yes.
Eighty percent of my feed is my car and the rest is my muscles.
I’m a show-off and I know it.
A moment later my phone buzzes with a notification. Someone has left a comment on my picture.
Put them away, slut.
I burst out laughing when I see the commenter is Mia and shove my phone into my pocket. Stalking my Insta, is she? What a fucking flirt.
As I walk out of the gym and into the sunset, I can’t stop grinning to myself. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in years, and it’s all thanks to Mia and the hope I have for our future.
On Saturday night, I wait in the alleyway behind Peppers, my heart pounding. As much as it burns me having other men slobbering all over the girl I’m obsessed with, I’m not here to stop her from working. I’ll watch over her in the club. I’ll pay for all her dances. It will kill me to see other men leering at the woman who should be my wife, but I’ll take it as my penance.
I’ve been an irresponsible asshole all these years, but I can be a man for Mia.
Then at midnight, I realize she’s not coming. I groan with relief and head back to my car.
Soon, Bambi, soon. I’ll take you away from all this shit and your mom, Drago Lastra, this whole miserable situation will be a distant memory.
I promise you.
12
Mia
“Am I a sex addict?” I whimper, pulling off my baby doll T-shirt and panties at lightning speed. I’m already wet. My pussy started tingling the moment Laz picked me up on the way home from school and drove us to this remote spot in the woods.
I’m perched on the edge of the passenger seat of his car, my legs outside the door, aching and whipped up into a frenzy by the sight and smell of my illicit boyfriend, and I won’t be satisfied until he’s screwed me into a senseless and deliciously sore mess.
Laz has already pulled his T-shirt off and is furiously unbuttoning his jeans, the dappled light of the forest playing over his bare shoulders. His dark hair is falling into his eyes and all the veins are standing out on his forearms.
“If you are, I definitely am,” he gasps, spreading me open and kneeling down on the ground to swipe my clit with his tongue.
I yelp with pleasure, and for once I don’t bother to smother how much noise I’m making. The trees, the sky, can hear how much I want Laz. I need someone or something to know, otherwise this secret is going to grow so big it will burst out of me.
Laz sits up and puts his knee on the seat, his shoulders just fitting inside the car. He grasps his cock, pulls my legs around his hips, and plunges into me.
I cry out sharply, and half a dozen birds explode from the trees around us in a furious flapping of wings.
