Page 83 of Final Serenade

“The first time only.”

He took his hand off my neck and fiddled with the stereo. Loud music blasted through the car seconds later. We were on PCH, heading north. All this—the clamor of the ocean, the wind biting my skin, the thunderous shrill of the engine—rolled through me and pushed blood through my veins with the intensity of a thousand watts. My body shook, but not because I was scared to wreck. It was a different kind of fear. A fear to never experience this rush again. A fear of boredom. A fear of life without adventure.

This was adrenaline. Pure. Sweet. Raw. Adrenaline.

I understood it then. Frank’s need to get back on the bike again and the need to keep the set at ninety minutes. For him, it was all or nothing. No in-betweens.

We drove for a long time until the lights became very sparse and the road began to curve. This was Ventura County.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“There’s a place,” Frank said mysteriously.

“Is it before or after Santa Barbara?” I joked.

He laughed. His hand rested on my thigh and I felt the heat of his palm against my skin, even through the denim. Soft flames of desire spread through me. My head spun from the overload of adrenaline.

“We need to get gas,” Frank muttered, glancing at the dashboard.

“Okay.” A flash of panic burst in my stomach.What side was the gas tank on in this thing?“Why didn’t you give me a tutorial on that too?”

“You don’t need one. It’s probably best you stay in the car for this one.” He rolled up the windows and motioned at the exit and gas station signs ahead. The lot was empty, and we were greeted by four lonely pumps and a small convenience store sitting against the dark ocean backdrop. I was surprised the station was open so late. Nothing in this part of SoCal operated after midnight. This wasn’t L.A. People in Ventura County didn’t go for random joyrides in the middle of the night in search of something they didn’t even know until they saw it.

Only Frank did.

I cut the engine and looked around.

“Sit tight, doll,” he said. His knuckles brushed my cheek and I shivered at the graze of his flesh against mine. I was a muddle of feelings. Anticipation of the unknown kept me near the edge.

I watched Frank round the car to read the instructions on the pump. A frown lined his forehead. I couldn’t grasp the concept of him doing anything remotely human. He was a performer and a lover. Seeing him trying to figure out how to operate a gas pump was strange.

“Is it not working?” I squeaked from my spot after I cracked the window.

“Just hang on.” He shook his head and walked over to the convenience store.

I waited inside the car for a few minutes. My cheek still burned where he’d touched me, but there was another feeling harbored somewhere in the pit of my stomach. Guilt. I’d promised Levi I’d finish the Bleeding Faith editorial before noon. That wasn’t happening. Not unless more hours were added to the night.

Frank showed up with a pack of Twizzlers. He was like a teenager going on a rampage. First alcohol, now sweets. He grinned. “I haven’t had these in years,” he confessed, tossing them over to me.

“Are you serious? They’re horrible.” I scrunched my nose, scanning the oversized package. “These things taste like rubber.” I hated Twizzlers. They were my least favorite candy.

Frank filled the tank and slid back into the passenger side. There was a shift in his mood again. He crumpled in his seat, his face dulled. The silence that stretched between us became unsettling.

“Is everything okay?” I asked carefully. The candy pack still sat on my lap.

He spun in his seat, his gaze meeting mine. Then I heard his whisper. “She died.”

Heaviness pushed against my chest. My heart tripped and fell. “Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

I felt the weight of his words on my shoulders. It pulled me to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Cassy.” He shook his head, a sad smile gracing his lips. “I won’t miss her. I never did.”

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