Page 103 of Shifting Gears

I kept as quiet as I could as they went over each car and unloaded them.

“Huh,” I heard someone close to the trunk say.

“What?” another voice answered.

“There’s a dent on the hood of this one—the Altezza—but it’s not noted.”

Shit, my bad, Kayden.I chuckled to myself.

“Ehh, make a note that it was damaged on arrival. Then it’s not our problem.”

They walked away, and the car I was in started up. I waited until I heard the engine shut off again, and then I chilled in the trunk until I didn’t hear anything going on outside. My back was aching, being bent like this. I needed to get out.

I shoved the trunk open and peered out the crack. There were some people outside the opened bay, but I figured I could easily slip past them.

I grabbed my duffel and hopped out of the trunk, closing it. I made my way toward the exit.

If there was anything I knew, it was, if you just minded your own business and acted like you belonged, no one would question you.

I strode right out of the warehouse and toward one of the security gates. I waited until it looked like the guard was busy with something else and slipped past without a problem.

That was when it hit me.

I was home.

I stood at the taxi pickup lane and just inhaled that Los Angeles air. Warm, dry, with the smell of the ocean breeze. The airport was buzzing with people coming and going.

I skipped the taxi ride and started walking. Making my way out of LAX, I felt an excitement in my step that I hadn’t felt in a year.

I walked toward my old stomping grounds; I saw fresh street art on the sides of buildings and bridges and heard some hip-hop playing in the distance.

I couldn’t help but smile. I felt pretty damn unstoppable right now, and because of that, I thought about how I’d see Rosalie for the first time. Pulling out my phone, I checked the time.

“She might be at Kayden’s Customs right now. I could make it before they close.”

So, I picked up the pace. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and jogged toward the custom car shop Rosalie’s dad owned that she also worked at.

I passed by the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, some of my favorite places to grab a bite, and the park I’d been going to since I’d been a kid. Seeing people making their way here and there, each one on their own unique grinds? These were the people I knew all too well.

As I got closer to the custom shop, thoughts crept into my mind that had me slowing down.

What if she isn’t happy to see me? What if her old man kicks me out? What if I walk in and see her and some other guy making out on the couch in the loft like we used to? I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that.

“Because I’d probably beat the shit out of the guy,” I mumbled under my breath as I rounded one of the alleyways that led to the front of the custom shop.

Colorful street art always covered these alley walls. Kayden believed in giving local artists a place to express themselves thatwouldn’t get them arrested. Last year, there had been lowriders rolling along. This year, they’d all been painted over with new cars and new scenes.

I set my duffel bag down behind a dumpster before I rounded the corner. The garage door was still open, so I quietly made my way over to it, peering inside to see who was still there.

The loft was empty, and the lights to the paint lab were off. If the paint lab’s lights were dim, it meant Rosalie wasn’t here. She lived in that room, always dreaming up her next custom paint job. Some rock music was playing, which wasn’t Kayden’s usual taste in music, so it must be one of the other guys who worked here.

Fuck. Guess I’ll have to swing by her house instead.

I backed away around the corner and grabbed my bag. I decided I’d have to go to the motel and start plan B. Get my room back, then boost a car to get to the Hills.

Only one issue: I had to get through the Barron’s, one of the local street gangs, territory on my way to the motel.

It figured that I’d bump into Billy Crystal, not even a full block into their turf. Word traveled fast to him. He might not always act like it, but Billy Crystal was high on the Barrons’ food chain.

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