Page 28 of Falling in Reverse

SEVEN

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I flex my hands around the wheel of my dad’s Chevy Nova. My fingers are on the trans brake as I wait for my best girlfriend, Nessa, to pull me up to the line.

Every worry, thought, fear, or problem I’m going through at the moment is getting shoved aside because I’ve already made two grand tonight, and won a fox-body Mustang.

Mortgage paid, plus late fees from two months ago—check.

Groceries that are actually paid for—check.

Utilities red notices can kiss most of my ass because I’ll have a few paid—check and check.

Travis is in the hospital with two bullet wounds to the leg…I’m working on a resolution to that. Especially since Levi is so beyond pissed that Torin Wildes was within a hundred-yard radius of us.

I literally had to throw myself in front of him to not go after Pretty Boy Wildes, not because of what I was afraid Torin would do, but Levi.

The last thing we need is Sheriff Muncy on our tail after the little stunt I pulled on one of his police officer’s cars meeting the ditch. And Levi was beyond livid that I was thankful Juice and Hot Rod were there to help me talk some sense into him.

But, tonight, is our space.

Our sanctuary where everything around us can’t get inside the cloud of exhaust smoke because we’re so deep in it.

Sitting in the rumbling noise that drones out the rest of the world, I know I belong here. I grew up on the streets with the characters currently surrounding me.

Grease and oil are in my veins.

And with Dad’s hospital bills starting to faithfully roll in, along with his physical therapy, I’m going to need every opportunity and dollar available to me to make sure he gets the best care possible.

It’s not an option.

I might not have many of them, because minimum wage isn’t going to cut it, but I have this.

And this is enough.

“Hey, girl,” Nessa coos, showing up at the side of my car and slithering through the driver's side window. “Just comin’ by to wish you luck.”

I hit her with an exasperated stare, brow lifted. “You’ve already done that twice.”

“And look what you’ve won already.” She winks at me under winged eyeliner and through bedroom brown eyes. The last good luck she gave me was when I won the Mustang and, of course, she took full credit for it. “Plus, the guy you’re racing is super hot, and I wanted him to check out my ass before you took off.”

I chuckle and shoo her away with my fingers. “C’mon, dude, you’re runnin’ the temp up on my car by just sitting here waiting while you wiggle your fat ass around.”

She smiles wider at me, tucking a long piece of blonde hair behind her pierced ears. “How’s Trav?”

“Good.” I give her a once-over. “Why don’t you go visit him?”

She shifts her weight, and I’m fully aware of why. “I hate hospitals.”

“So does everyone else.”

Her cheek is pushed out by her tongue, and she allows a moment to go by before saying, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

We stare at each other because we both know I’m going to make her go. Just, obviously, not right now. “Alright, dude”—I swat her away from my car again—“get your ass out of the way, and let’s go.”

Nessa steps back and waves her hand over her face like she got a hot flash. “Damn, girl. When you talk to me like that. Ooowww!” she whoops out loud, double strutting her curves in booty shorts and a loose hoodie for my competitor’s benefit as she gets in position.

Pulling us into the line, she lifts her flashlight as I rev the engine, getting my RPMs up before she clicks it on to start the race.

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