Page 17 of Tastes Like Misery

Rolling my eyes, I led him down the hall to the rickety stairs in the back of the building where my car was parked in the small lot behind the building. He took my elbow and led me to his truck, sitting right next to my car. Opening the door for me, he waited while I debated going with him.

“Don’t lose your sense of adventure now,” he teased. “I swear no harm will come to you at my hands.”

“That’s not reassuring, Dane. You only promised at your hands,” I folded my arms across my chest, refusing to get in.

After staring me down for minutes, he finally relented, “No human will harm you. I can’t say the same for what your surprise is. But I promise you will love it and be as safe as can be.”

I relented and hopped in, settling myself on the seat, eyeing the ratty interior. Somehow, the seat was extremely comfortable despite the unimpressive decor. Once he backed out and reached the edge of town, the engine roared to life and my jaw dropped, “You have a souped-up engine in this old thing. It sounds new and more like a luxury car,” I noted, curious if he would have some sort of explanation or if it were another secret he’d keep from me.

“Yes. I may have to blend in with this rusty old truck, but I like speed,” he said as he hit the gas, speeding down the empty highway. “Tell me, Vivian. What are people saying about us being here? Have they noticed the strangers in town?”

I shrugged as he stared intensely at me, barely looking at the road. “Does it matter? Honestly, I don’t talk to people enough to know. I don’t exactly fit in with the holy bitches in this town. They talk at church and community get-togethers. It’s not exactly my cup of tea.”

He hummed, his expression calculating, “I bet you know everything about the townsfolk. You pay attention to your surroundings, look for opportunities to give you the advantage.”

How he knew me so well was beyond me. These people were predictable, and I knew just where to be to hear the latest gossip. Though I was not welcome in the polite circles, the ranch hands were never quiet when gossiping in the bar. I knew who was cheating and the vices of just about everyone, including the pastor’s interest in a certain married schoolteacher.

He pulled off on a dirt road, one I wasn’t familiar with. He glanced out the side mirror and watched the dust cloud behind us, wondering if he would leave me miles from civilization in the hot, dry heat of summer. The land was flat but suddenly my stomach dropped and I looked forward, seeing we were going downhill. A shack loomed in the distance with cars parked all around. Through the air conditioning, I smelled what I thought was fuel, but with an almost sweet aroma to it.

Dane pulled up to the building, what I thought was a shack from afar wasn’t much better up close. The dingy white brick with faded paint that said “Grand Hill Demolition Derby.” An older man stepped out of the building, his toothless smile making him look more friendly than my first impression of his haggard appearance.

“Dane Barrow, it’s been way too many years,” he greeted my frenemy warmly, shaking his hand and patting his shoulder. Glancing at me, he asked, “And who is this pretty young thing you brought with you?”

“Vivian Parker, a friend,” Dane answered dismissively, but I didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened. “I’d like her to let loose out there and show me what she’s made of. You’re the only one I know who can make sure she’s taken care of, Joe.”

The Joe guy nodded, “I’ve got a little VW bug she can try out. I haven’t made any mods on it yet. My nephew is starting out, so I just picked it up at an auction for him.”

Dane rubbed his chin, deep in thought, before answering, “I think this lady will surprise both of us. Let her drive one of mine.”

“Have you done lost your mind?” Joe gaped at him. After meeting Dane’s murderous look, he amended it, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine. But I’m not responsible if she gets hurt. It’s on you, Dane.” Dropping what looked like a toolbox, it clanged on the ground before he opened it to reveal a treasure chest of keys. He dug through the mess and I had no idea how he knew what was what. Finally, he pulled out two sets of keys and tossed them at Dane, who caught them with ease.

“Thanks, Joe,” Dane called after his retreating body before turning to me. “Can you drive a stick?”

I winked, “You know I love sticks. The bigger, the better.”

“Yes, you do,” his husky voice reached my ears, and I shivered. Pulling out a helmet from inside a dented bright orange car, he placed it on my head and strapped it for me. “I promised I’d keep you as safe as possible. This is your car. Take it out on the track and open her up.”

My eyes danced with excitement as I glanced at the dirt oval. “I’ve always wanted to try driving a racecar, but I never expected I’d be driving the General,” I referenced an old show which had the same color car as this one.

“Her name is Betsy. And this isn’t a race car. It’s a derby car. Big difference.”

“Yeah, I can crash this one and you won’t be pissed,” I laughed as he leveled a glare at me. “So, what do I get if I win this little race of ours?” I changed the subject, knowing exactly what I wanted as a reward, though information and sex were vying for first place.

“Whatever you want because you aren’t going to win,” he challenged, placing a set of goggles on my nose. They didn’t wrap around but were more like safety glasses, something to keep the dirt from my eyes since there were no windows on the cars.

My need to prove him wrong came barreling out of me and I revved the engine, quickly taking off before he could get into his own car. The tail swerved as I didn’t slow down to enter the track and turned the wheel hard to turn onto the track. “Fuck yes!” I shouted to myself, experiencing the adrenaline pumping in my veins as I gunned it hard.

The speed was exhilarating as I smoothly turned around the barrels and random objects in my way, not once taking my foot off the accelerator. The wind whipped my hair around my face and I was thankful I’d chopped it off years ago. Long locks weren’t good with wigs.

I waved at him as I passed him, noticing his wicked grin as he watched me. One more time around and I came to a stop, the car sliding on the dirt until I was exactly where I needed to be to start our little race. “Ready?” I shouted out the window to him.

Dane counted down, and both of us accelerated as he shouted, “Go!” I loved the way the car responded, the feel of the tail trying to grip the track as I expertly turned the wheel in the opposite direction to gain control.

Dane seemed to be a master, slowing down at the curves, but I took advantage of his care and passed him, only to have him come up fast behind me. I jolted as his bumper connected with mine and growled, “Asshole.” He tried to knock me off the track. Well, I could play dirty too, keeping it under control and turning hard to cross the middle in a shortcut. My jaw hurt as the car bumped along the rutted center and I almost gave myself whiplash as I sped back on the other side of the track.

The finish line loomed ahead and there was no way for him to catch up. One straight-away and I was home free, pushing the accelerator as much as it would go, I flew through the easy win, taking a victory lap and passing him. Flipping him the bird, I laughed as I enjoyed myself more than I had in ages. The two of us continued, racing around the hazards and spinning the cars in circles, kicking up clouds of dust in our wake. I’d probably be spitting out dirt for the next week, but it was worth it.

When the gas hit empty, I knew it was time to end our fun and regretfully drove the car back to its place among the others, Dane following behind me.

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