Page 70 of American Hellhound
“That your car?” Maureen asked, tipping her head toward the curb. She blew a large, pink bubble with her gum and popped it with a loudcrack.
“Yeah.” Maggie stole a glance over her shoulder; she was never going to tire of looking at the sleek, black beast. “I just got it.”
“Got it where?” Sonja asked, making a face. “I’d be so pissed. I told Daddy I wanted a Benz.”
“From a friend,” Maggie said. “And I love it.” She sent the other girl a challenging look.
“Cool,” Stephanie said. “We’re taking my car. Let’s go.”
Mrs. Cleveland stepped out the side door of the house to wave them off and wish them a good time. Squished between Kelly and Sonja in the backseat, Maggie breathed in the smell of the BMW’s new leather and wished she was somewhere else.
They were a mile or so from the house when Stephanie said, “Okay, so, you have connections with the Lean Dogs, right?”
At first, Maggie didn’t realize she was talking toher, and then she startled forward against her seatbelt. “What?”
“The Lean Dogs,” Stephanie said like she thought Maggie was an idiot. “Rachel said one of those guys was at the Peterson brothers’ party, and you totally went off and got lost with him.”
Damn it, Rachel.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” Stephanie’s nose scrunched up in her rearview mirror reflection, half-disgust, half-delight.
“No!”
“Why not? Rachel said he was hot.”
Beside the point. “Ghost is just a friend,” Maggie said, and then realized her mistake.
“Ghost?” Maureen asked, twisting around in her seat to gape at Maggie. “Wait…not, like, GhostTeague?”
His last name was Teague – it was what he’d signed on their bill of sale for the car. And one of the cops the other night had called him “Kenny.” Kenny “Ghost” Teague. She’d been carrying his names – real and club-given – around in her pocket like a delicious secret, and in a matter of seconds, these girls had her admitting them out loud. Even worse, they already knew his name. How many teenage girls did he buy beer for on the regular? How many had he kissed up against the rough wall of the liquor store? She felt very young and foolish, suddenly.
She shrugged, affecting disinterest. “Maybe. How many Ghosts are in the club?”
“Oh my God.” Maureen’s eyes lit up inside their thick rings of black liner. “Like,theGhost Teague. My uncle” – he was a cop, Maggie thought – “says he’s like, totally on the Knoxville most-wanted list.”
If he was, he’d probably be behind bars already. Probably.
“Didn’t he kill his wife?” Sonja asked with horror.
“No,” Maggie snapped, unable to help it. She didn’t want to tell these idiots anything, but she couldn’t let them lie about the man that way. “Shelefthim. They got divorced.”
“So youknowhim,” Stephanie said, triumphant. “Good. You can get us a discount on weed and beer.”
“What? No!”
“She doesn’t wanna share the love,” Kelly huffed, flopping back against the seat. “Told you.”
Stephanie found Maggie’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re gonna share,” she said. “Or we’ll tell your mom what happens tonight.”
~*~
Ghost had spent the day making runs – a few bike part pickups, some marijuana drop-offs. The usual. He swung by the clubhouse on his way home to relieve Rita, dropping the cash he’d made for the club into the safe.
“Good haul?” Collier asked behind him.
“Same old, same old.” Ghost shut the safe door and spun the dial back to zero. When he turned around, he noted his friend’s clean white shirt, new jeans, tidy hair. How the hell did the man stay so put-together? Ghost suspected it had a lot to do with Jackie.
Collier fell into step beside him as he started down the hall. “For what it’s worth,” he said, tone hushed, “I think your garage idea is a good one. If you want to bring it up in church again–”
