Page 550 of Hell Hath No Fury
NO WAY
A DAYTON SERIES SHORT
STEVIE J COLE & LP LOVELL
CHAPTER ONE
Wolf
The hot-ass sun beat down on me as I leaned over the Honda’s dirty engine bay. “The radiator’s fucked, dude.”
Bellamy groaned, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Like I need this crap on top of everything else.”
For anyone unfortunate enough to live in Dayton, there was always an “on top of everything else.” The guys and I had scraped by the past few years by stealing and dealing, not that any of us were proud of it. It was just how we survived. It was how most of us survived. I hoped to God the football scholarship I’d been awarded to Oak Bay University would open up opportunities. Because I sure as hell didn’t want to spend the rest of my life like this.
“I swear to God,” Bellamy yanked at a hose. “I know this is Hendrix’s fault. He’s hotwired my car three times in the past month.”
Hendrix, one of our best friends, was an idiot with a unique skill for hotwiring a car in less than thirty seconds. He was also the most reckless driver I knew. Which was exactly why his license had been suspended.
“I told you to get a steering wheel lock, dude. It’s the only reason Hendrix’s ass stopped stealing my truck.”
“He thinks using it for his raffles gives him an excuse.” Bellamy tossed the piece of plastic to the drive. “Like something legal cancels out something illegal.”
Obnoxious pop music interrupted the peaceful lull of distant sirens. I glanced over my shoulder at Drew, Bellamy’s girlfriend. The stupid designer swimsuit she wore looked ridiculous against the tattered lawn chair. Throw in the faded, plastic NASCAR cup in her hand and her huge, bug-eyed Gucci glasses, and she looked like someone having an identity crisis. Although, shewasa Barrington rich girl dating a Dayton criminal.
“Your taste in music is as bad as your taste in life,” I said.
One of her dark brows lifted above the top of her shades. “I feel like you just insulted Bellamy.”
“Win. Win.”
A grease-covered rag smacked my chest. “Shut up and help me fix this piece of crap.”
I went back to work, loosening some nuts on the busted part.
“Maybe Hendrix just needs his criminal fix since he’s on the straight and narrow,” Drew said, half-laughing before she cranked up the volume.
I glanced at Bellamy, and he shrugged, mumbling there was no point in arguing with her.
I’d just loosened another bolt when my phone buzzed in my jean pocket.
Nora: You look really good under that hood. Shirtless and covered in grease…
I glanced over the raised hood of the Honda to the two-story house across the street. Nora Locke stood in the window. All dark hair and fine as hell. The bright-pink swimsuit top she had on barely covered her tits. I directed my attention to my phone, typing out:Show me your tits.
Crass? Nah. She loved that shit.
Nora: No
Me: Then show me your pussy.
Bellamy smacked me. “Man, stop screwing around. I need my car fixed so we can go to Barrington later.”
We had to listen to an entire album’s worth of crap songs before we had the new radiator fitted and the car working again.
“God, Drew,” Nora’s sultry voice broke through the obnoxious music. “I feel the need to point out that he is really tainting you.”
I forced myself to keep staring at the engine, picking pine straw out from the bottom of the windshield. Whatever was going on between us was just that—between us.
