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Zada’s eyes were large, shocked to see me take something. I was sure she thought it was an illegal drug, and I didn’t even try to explain.
I moved away from her car, and my fingers ached from holding the handle so tightly. I walked toward Zada on stiff legs and attempted a grin in her direction.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
She didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t going to tell her any different
She lay her hand on my shoulder and smiled with understanding when I reached her side. “Just stay beside me. You’ll be fine. Promise.”
I nodded, rubbing my sweaty palms together as I followed behind her.
Surely, if the place weren’t safe, she wouldn’t want to hang out there.
Right?
We stopped beside the car with the Lamborghini doors. A guy with dark skin and eyes grinned at us when we approached, and Zada leaned in and kissed him deeply. I turned away, feeling uncomfortable watching. When she pulled away, he reached out and grabbed a handful of her backside.
“Reggie, this is my girl, Everly. Everly, this is my boyfriend, Reggie.”
He let go of her bottom to reach out and shake my hand.
“Any friend of Zada’s is a friend of mine. Nice to meet you, boo.”
I was about to respond to him when a familiar sound reached my ears. The scream of a motorcycle engine filled the night, and the people standing around turned toward the abandoned road and began to cheer.
It was then I saw him.
The skull from the stoplight.
His familiar neon green and black bike pulled up in front of us, but he faced ahead, ready to race his bike. His tires were lined in neon lights that made the exhaust around him look like it was glowing green too. He revved his engine, the screeching sound making me flinch, and he nodded his helmeted head toward someone on the sideline.
Another bike pulled up next to the skull, glowing purple. The rider of that bike turned toward the skull, and I gasped a bit when I saw he wore a similar handkerchief over the bottom half of his face, but instead of a skull, it was the lower half of The Joker’s face.
They nodded at each other before facing a guy who was suddenly standing in the center of the road. I hadn’t noticed the guy in the center before, but I stiffened when he pulled a handgun out of his pocket and aimed it toward the sky.
“Okay, motherfuckers, let’s keep it clean. Winner takes bragging rights. No bullshit. Got it?” he called out.
The two riders nodded their agreement and revved their engines.
Guns.
Drugs.
And what I assumed was illegal racing.
How had I gotten myself mixed up into this?
He pulled the trigger, sending an echo of a loud gunshot through the night air. Then the sounds of the roaring engines battling for lead stole the gun’s thunder. The crowd exploded, rushing to the sidelines to follow the riders to see who would pass the finish line first, and I felt their energy course through my body.
At first, the noise had been deafening, and I felt my heart rate speed up. I was sure the black curse of panic was going to override my Valium, but it never came. It wasn’t long until I realized it wasn’t panic making my heart race; it was excitement.
My heart drilled in my chest, my breath rushing in and out in quick bursts, but instead of feeling the grip of anxiety around my heart, I felt pure exhilaration.
Everything I was doing was wrong, from watching the illegal race to standing beside a guy who was bumping cocaine from his long pinky nail, but at the same time, it was the most excitement I had felt in a very long time. I was doing something so unlike myself—something I knew my dad would never have approved of, and I liked it way more than I should have.
My entire life, I had done everything I was supposed to do—followed every rule—went the extra mile in all things. If I was honest, it was because I was too afraid of everything in life. But this moment—the one with burnt rubber and biker boys—it was for me and me alone.
