Page 40 of Ride or Die
We make sure the coast is clear and walk up to the room, using the device to start scanning for his keys. It takes less than two minutes before we’re successful. We only have to wait a moment before we hear grunting and fucking sounds coming from the guy’s motel room.
He’s distracted. It’s time.
I look around to make sure we’re still in the clear, then unlock and open the door and slide into the Viper. It starts effortlessly, and I drive away, the owner totally unaware he’s been ripped off.
Axel follows in the Corolla as we drive onto the freeway towards the docks to drop off the merchandise. This is probably the most nerve-racking part of a job, constantly looking around for cops, praying you don’t end up in a high-speed car chase.
When we pull into the docks, one of Williams’ men directs me to the shipping container, and I drive directly into it. In seconds, I’m out and they’re closing the doors behind me as I exit the container.
I love these quick, easy jobs. They pay well, and I’m usually done within a couple of hours. Some jobs are higher-risk, and I’d hate to admit some of the shady things I’ve done to pull one off. Between threatening people, working for the target, or fucking a chick until she passed out, I’ve partaken in my fair share of schemes. No matter what, I get the job done. It’s why I get paid what I do.
I never want Layla to know that side of me, and I won’t do the shit I’ve done in the past now that she’s in my life. No car is worth breaking her heart and fucking this up.
Williams approaches me with his arms open and a huge smile on his face. He’s always so happy to see us when we successfully show up with what he requested.
He’s a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, a designer suit always stretched around his muscular form. The guy keeps fit because you have to flex some muscle in this industry so people don’t fuck with you. He’s a friendly guy when you do good work for him, but he’s a fucking prick when you don’t.
“Hawthorne, my man. Thank you!” He shakes my hand, and in his palm are the two envelopes full of cash for the job, both Axel’s and my share. Axel walks up behind us, and without a word, I hand him his cut and put mine in my back pocket.
“Williams. Let’s chat.” We walk away from Axel, who’s heading towards the Corolla to go back to The Shores.
“I’m going to be moving soon, and since our contract is coming to an end, I won’t be renewing. I wanted to give you ample notice,” I state. He looks at me, a bit confused.
“Moving? Where? When?”
“California, in the Spring.”
“Ah, when you graduate.” I nod. He rubs his chin, looking pissed, but I expected that.
He nods over and over, pacing back and forth. “Okay, so in the meantime, I’ll continue to use you for the remainder of the contract. Only for a few more jobs. How’s that sound?”
That's the thing about Williams; he spreads out the work amongst his drivers. He never liked risking an asset. He says the more you send out that asset, the higher the chance they get caught. That’s why Williams only sends me out for the cars valued at hundreds of thousands of dollars. The big fish.Whereas the junior drivers steal family SUVs and luxury sedans and get paid significantly less.
“Hold off on asking me unless it’s for the real money makers. Otherwise, have the other guys do it. They’re always looking for work.”
I knew there was no way he would just let me walk away today. Me promising another cash haul helps with the sting of losing his best driver. It’s proper etiquette in this field. In the meantime, he also makes money off of my street racing, so he can go fuck himself.
“It’s too bad, kid. I like ya. I could have offered you a long-term deal, pay raise, maybe a position change,” he offers, trying to change my mind.
“Nah, man, I’m good. So, deal? Finishing officially by April when my exams start.” I offer my hand to shake on it.
“Deal. You’re lucky I value an education kid. Got me where I am today,” he says, taking my hand. “And what can I say? You’ve made me a lot of money. As long as you don’t fucking cross me, we’re good.” He places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze and a look that says everything.
Not a fucking word about his business, or I'm dead.
Williams is a man of his word. He’s said numerous times, he’s not a gang or mob, he’s a business, and while he runs legitimate businesses that the rest of the world knows about, he also has his shady work. Those of us who work within it know better than to cross him.
A wave of relief washes over me, but I keep myself emotionless. You have to exhibit that hard exterior so well in this world. It’s why everyone thinks I’m an angry asshole all the time, when I’m really an alright guy.
I nod in silent agreement, my boots dragging against the gravel as I turn and walk towards my car.
“Hey, Hawthorne!” he calls out after me. “Take care of that girlfriend of yours, eh? She’s quite the catch.” I turn around to see him watching me, a smug, devilish smirk on his lips.
My heart sinks into my stomach. He knows about Layla? Fuck!
My jaw twitches, teeth grinding with tension, but I nod again in acknowledgement and continue walking away. I just need to pull off a few more jobs and we will be safe. It’s nothing. I’ve stolen hundreds of cars over the years.
I get back to my car and sit in the driver's seat, letting out an exasperated sigh. While I’m happy he’s good with me leaving, I hate that he knows about Layla. I pull out of the docks and head towards the freeway. Everything passes in a blur on the drive, and before I know it, I’m pulling back into the sullen-looking suburb.
