Page 25 of Rear View
The rumble-pop of the engine sounded out where we waited in the middle of a watered-down gravel lot. Cameras lined the perimeter while key and boom lights lit the vehicle from all sides. They reflected off its sharp angles, and neon-green shade, highlighting those black and purple accents. The new logos were bigger, wrapping around the hood, up onto the roof and over the doors and quarter panels. The thing lookedepic.
A WRC sign hung backlit on the makeshift wall thirty feet away. My chest inflated. Alec and I’d worked long and hard to get our licenses. Then trained our asses off, putting in the hours to make the rankings. We weren’t at the top yet, but we were on our way.
The crew bustled around us, spot-wiping the vehicle, and repositioning the cameras, when Earl sauntered over, a woman in her mid-twenties at his side. Her hair was red, skin tanned. She was put together—heavy makeup, sharp black dress and heels. And she stood out like a fox in a henhouse.
The window motor hummed as I put it down.
“Xavier, Alec,” Earl said. “This is the publicist I told you about.”
Right. I’d totally forgot. I gave her a nod.
She tucked a leather folder under her arm. “I’m Trina. I’m here to help you both see your potential and navigate your rising popularity.” She grinned and gestured to the set around us. “You’re about to start getting a lot of attention!”
Was that good?
“Earl tells me you’ve been filled in about the car show Sunday. That one’s easy, just a meet and greet for the public. I’m also in the process of lining up interviews, getting you on some question panels.”
“Sounds alright,” I said.
“I’ll forward you the details later today.” She reached into the car and set a palm on my forearm. “With your looks and talent, you’re very marketable. You’ll be an easy sell.”
Alec turned away to hide his laugh.
I fought a frown when I slid my arm back. “Thanks.”
Earl tapped the door with a knuckle. “How’re you liking the mods?”
I tipped my chin up and ran a rough hand over the dash. The thing was badass. The torque killer. “Great. Car feels tight. This sponsor shit’s panning out.”
“Good.” He stepped back. “Alright. Trina and I will leave you both to it, then. Call if you need anything.”
I gave a salute and Trina smiled.
My phone buzzed and I tore it out.Be you, dream girl. Come on, be you.
Mom: Enjoy today, my boy. You’ve earned it.
I punched my response.
Me: Thanks, Ma.
Another text came through and when I saw the name, I fought not to chuck my phone out the window. How he’d got my number, I had no clue, but Derek Bosch, my old man’s brother, was just as dirty and cut from the same cloth.
Uncle Prick Face: You hear the news about your dad? He’s gonna need Lorelei’s info.
Ain’t happening.
Me: Lose my goddamn number.
“That Ryah?” Alec asked.
I turned my screen his way.
He ground his jaw and glanced around. “You tell your mom about the parole board?” he said, his voice low.
My gut locked tight, and I cinched my hand over the wheel. “Not gonna worry her until there’s somethin’ to worry her about.”
He dipped his head in a slow nod. “The family’s been asking about you,” he said, veering the conversation away.
