Page 82 of Vicious Sentiments

“Whenever you’re ready,” Donna says but it sounds more like,let’s get this over with already.

I give one last worried look at Cape as I shift the shiny gear stick into reverse. He smirks and then purses his lips, sending a kiss my way. The gesture makes my stomach flip and I ache to recreate the kiss from the bathtub. I bite my lip and smile back at him. The small act helps me shake off any nervousness and I feel a bit more confident. I’m going to ace this.

Scratch that. I didn’t ace it. I royally fucked up. I fucked up so bad that I’m currently standing on the curb near a stop sign while the McLaren sits in the middle of traffic, unattended. The engine is still running with the front fender hanging on by a thread.

There’s a car in front of the McLaren at an angle with its whole passenger side dented in. We didn’t even make it that far. I can still see the DMV down the road and I had only made one loop through a residential area.

My hands are shaking as I text Cape. There’s a guy yelling at Donna about car insurance and how this is bullshit, that drivingtests shouldn’t be held on public roads.

Accident

It’s all I can manage to send before Donna turns on me and starts listing off things I need to supply. I have no idea where any of that is. I’m more concerned with what I’ve done to Julian’s super expensive car.

I know that everyone always says it wasn’t their fault, but it truly wasn’t my fault. I was waiting to make a right turn, waiting for it to be clear, waiting and waiting, sweating and hyper aware of Donna’s frown as I continued to miss opportunity after opportunity to turn. And of course, of course, the car behind me had no patience. They went around me, trying to zip past and make a right in front of me but they did it too quickly and it just happened to be at the exact moment I worked up enough courage to turn myself.

I didn’t hit them hard enough to hurt anyone, but hard enough that it ripped off the fender, and caused damage to the run of the mill Nissan owned by a bald man in crocs.

“You rich, entitled kids with cars you don’t even know how to drive!” He points at me now, holding a flip phone to his ear. I know he’s calling the police. I wring my hands in front of me, sweating despite the cool breeze and gnawing on my already raw lip.

“This is what happens when you hold up traffic and aren’t decisive,” Donna says and looks at me with disdain. How amIthe one in the wrong here? Aren’t there laws about what he did?

“I didn’t mean to,”is what comes out of my mouth instead, and I hate myself a little for the tears welling in my eyes. I want to tell her to shove it up her ass, that I didn’t do anything wrong but I can’t bring myself to own it while I’m shaking like a leaf and using every bit of strength I have in me not to cry.

“You’re daddy’s gonna pay for this, you little twat.” The man points at me again.

“You’re going to want to shut your fucking mouth.” A familiar voice roars, and before I even turn to see Cape, I feel relief flood through me.

Where did he come from? Did he run here? His body is thrumming with energy and I can tell his breathing is harder than usual.

“Who are you?” the bald man asks.

“I’m her fucking daddy,” Cape snaps, and is then at my side. His hands cup my cheeks and he tilts my head up to look at him. “Are you okay?” he asks me, his eyes searching my face and down my body.

I nod in his hands and the tears roll gently down my cheeks. “It wasn’t my fault. He turned out in front of me,” I whisper to him.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hit him on purpose.” He lets me go and spins around. “He doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that when the cops get here, buddy.”

“I’m not your buddy. I’m the guy that’s going to break your knee caps if you don’t shut your mouth.”

The guy balks and takes a step back.

“That’s uncalled for.” Donna crinkles her nose.

“And you can leave.” Cape looks at her like she’s a piece of gum on the sidewalk.

She raises her brows in indignation. “I have to give my statement to the police.”

“There isn’t going to be any police,” Cape growls and he pulls out his wallet.

He steps off the curb towards the man in crocs. The man takes a couple tentative steps back but keeps his eyes trained on the wallet.

Cape squints and does a quick assessment of the damage on the Nissan before pulling out a stack of bills.

“Five thousand or you’ll never be able to drive again, your choice.” Cape holds the money out in front of him.

The man lowers his phone, glancing at me and then at the McLarenand then back to Cape’s face. He scrutinizes him for a second and then snatches the cash from his hand.

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