Page 15 of Death is My BFF

This time, when I slammed on the brakes, they worked. My eyes closed involuntarily as a huge mass struck my car with a bloodcurdling crash, shattering part of the windshield. Screams ripped from both our throats, even after the car finally stopped. Though we were wearing seat belts, both our heads went sharply forward.

Airbags blew up into our faces at the wrong moment, knocking my head back into the seat.

It wasn’t over. A red Lamborghini maneuvered to the left of my car, scraping the driver side with a sickening screech as it sideswiped past. The vehicle fishtailed ahead and blocked my path.

My airbag deflated as a hand smacked it down. “Faith!” Marcy reached over the center console, screaming in hysterics. “Faith! Are you okay?”

I cut the ignition. My car hissed. I was fleetingly aware of blood in my mouth from biting down on my lip, and there were large spiderwebs of fissures in my windshield. Clicking out of my seat belt, I threw myself from the vehicle, fell to the asphalt, and collapsed, bile rising in my throat.

“Oh, my gosh!” The shrill, distant voice of a woman sliced through the ringing in my ears. A perfectly manicured hand tried to lift me up. “Oh, my gosh! Are you, like, dead?”

“No, I’m not dead! Let go of me!” I said, shaking off her bony hand. When I tried to stand, the road tilted on its side. My back hit the ground, glass scraping against my bare legs. Wincing, I rolled over and was slow to get to my feet. The woman with the bleach-blond hair reached for me again with her scrawny hands.

“I said don’t touch me.”

“We hit a deer!” Marcy cried from the opposite side of the car.

“We hit a poor, helpless deer! Oh my God . . . ” She braced a hand on the roof and heaved.

“Help the passenger, Meghan,” a deep, melodious voice projected behind me. “Make sure she doesn’t choke on her vomit.”

A man stepped into my line of vision. Once again, I could not believe the surreal night I was having. It was David Star’s father,Devin Star, president of the D&S Tower, aka the most prestigious advertising agency in the world.

“Are you all right?”

Despite my aversion to the Stars, my brain short-circuited.

Devin’s eyes were as electric and intense as in all those magazines my mother cherished. But here, under the streetlight, they dimmed to an arcane ocean blue. His features were sharp, lethal, perfect. Money expertly concealed any wrinkles from his skin, making it hard to believe he was forty-five.

“No.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I am not all right.”

“Let’s get you off this broken glass.” He guided me by the elbow to his vehicle. My legs threatened to give out as I rested on the hood of his car. “Take deep breaths. Everything is okay.” His voice was level, reassuring.

“Why were you tailgating me?” I asked. “It distracted me, or else none of this would’ve happened.”

“Your muffler was scraping the ground and sparking,” he explained. “I was just trying to get you to pull over, before your gas tank caught on fire.” We both looked over my mangled car. I visualized my tombstone:Here lies Faith, murdered by her own parentsfor destroying an already shitty car. R.I.P.

“You stopped so suddenly,” Devin said, “and it seemed like you hit something. You’re lucky I didn’t rear end you.”

I gripped my temples with both hands. “I amsoscrewed.”

“Please, let me take care of any medical expenses and repairs to your vehicle.” Concern pooled in his crisp blue eyes. “All I ask is that you don’t talk to the press about this accident.” He smoothly slid a business card from his breast pocket and held it out to me. “I’m Devin Star, owner of the D&S Tower.”

“I know who you are,” I said.I just met your entitled son.

Devin straightened and withdrew his card, bewilderment flickering over his perfect face. How arrogant do you have to be to expect people to fangirl over you the moment you drop your name?

“Listen, I understand you don’t need any more negative press”—on top the money laundering scandal you’ll magically makedisappear—“but you were driving like a maniac and hit my car. We could have been killed, so I’m not making any promises. Not until I talk to my parents. If you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my best friend—”

“Twenty thousand dollars, cash,” he offered. “That’s a lot of money for a young girl.”

I let out a short laugh. “Mr. Star, you have some nerve.”

He cocked his head in confusion, squinting his icy eyes. “How so?”

“How so?You’re trying to negotiate a deal to protect yourself, five minutes after I was almost killed in a car crash. Because ofyourobnoxious driving. That’s how so.”

He was perplexed for a second time. “What’s your name?”

---