Hot Laps (17 page)

Cole turned Casten’s head, his eyes wide as he whipped his head back around to face
him, his palms on each one his cheeks. Casten looked slightly frightened. “Is that
a hickey?”

Why, yes, Cole, it is and it was from me. I was damn proud of that purplish marking.

Casten chuckled shaking out of his grasp. “Cole, I danced on a bar, maxed out my credit
card in a bar – which I didn’t think was actually possible – so a hickey is the
least
of my worries.”

I really was a bad influence.

“You’re like a dancer for a Katy Perry video,” Anna said, then sneezed and blew biscuits
and gravy all over the front of me. I glared as I wiped off the chunks but other than
that, said nothing. I was just thankful it wasn’t puke this time.

Cole chuckled eyeing Casten.

“You danced on a bar?” he leaned forward retrieving the ketchup from the middle of
the small table and then poured it over his eggs and hash browns.

“And got a lap dance from a gay guy wearing hooker boots,” he added. “Don’t forget
that part. He had some serious fucking moves. I was impressed.”

“And maxed out his credit card,” Anna added drinking directly from the coffee pot
on the center of the table. She looked up at us. “You do know it was dollar beer night,
right? You would have been better off buying the bar last night.”

Casten hung his head but said nothing.

Anna then opened two creamers, poured them in her mouth, shook her head to mix them
and swallowed. “How in the hell did you max it out? Is that even possible for someone
like you? I saw that house you live in …” she hinted looking at Casten for an explanation.

Raising my hand hesitantly, I answered for him. “After your dance with red boots,
you sort of yelled open bar and handed the bartender your credit card.
Everyone
was your friend after that.”

Casten’s mouth gaped open for a moment before his head slammed down on the table while
he mumbled something about needing another job to support his new hobby of being my
drinking buddy.

I felt bad but, then again, he was eighteen, it wasn’t like he didn’t know the difference
between right and wrong. Clearly, I lacked this judgment when drunk but we aren’t
talking about me. The point was Casten was old enough to make his own decisions. It
didn’t stop me from feeling like I may be aiding in this but I just went back to him
being eighteen, as if this was a magical number.

As we walked out of the diner that morning, I looked over at his gang raped hair again.
“Am I a bad influence on you?”

“You’re a bad influence on my liver and my bank account, but on me personally, no.
Not at all.”

That actually made me feel loads better.

We all pretty much parted ways after that, I had a horrible headache as well and crashed
once I hit my bed. Casten apparently had plans with his grandma tonight so, sadly,
there was no option of him coming back to my apartment, which I’d been silently hoping
for.

Slide Job – A pass made usually in open wheel dirt racing where a car will take the
inside line going into a corner, or the outside, and slide past another driver advancing
his position.

Wednesday at work was horrible. I had so much stuff to get caught up on and no one
was happy that I wasn’t there to get their coffee and make their copies. It’s as though
none of them knew how to walk over to Starbucks or press the “START” button on the
copy machine.

Olivia sat down at her desk and sighed looking over at Noah who came upstairs to give
me an invoice to get approved by Jameson. Silently, I was depressed Casten didn’t
personally deliver the invoice but I also knew he was probably overwhelmed having
taken yesterday off.

“So, where were you yesterday?” Angela asked typing away on her keyboard.

My first thought was why was she talking to her computer and then I thought, oh right,
she’s talking to you, dumb ass.

Just lie, make something up like you had diarrhea or a headache.

“I was hungover,” I admitted before my brain could lie properly.

“And Casten was with you?”

“Come again?” I hid my face behind my screen. I wasn’t sure how appropriate it would
be to be talking about this with others, in particular, co-workers.

What if Casten didn’t want people to know he was with me last night?

“Oh, well, Bailey said you and Casten had some drinks…that’s why.”

Shit.

“Yeah, we went out.”

Olivia leaned forward so her face was near the cubicle wall separating us, her features
curious. “So what’s he like? I mean, I tried for the longest time to get him interested
in me, and nothing. Kristy, you know, the one who was in here last week who works
for Riley Racing, she tried for years and then that rep for Edan Manufacturing, Jensen,
she climbed on his toolbox
naked
and nothing. He’s picky. After a while, we thought he was gay but Noah and Cole said
he wasn’t.”

“He’s not gay, that I know of. But I wouldn’t really know
for sure
.” I told her trying not to focus on all the women he’d denied and that I was currently
on that list – a list I wasn’t pleased with being on.

Work got in the way before Olivia and I could gossip anymore. I had to email Jameson
a few invoices he was looking for while he was on the road, so that meant me going
in his office.

As soon as I opened the door, I knew I was in trouble.

I spent more time staring at pictures of him and his cover model wife and family.
It was like they were all airbrushed or something.

There was a couple of Casten, standing knee deep with engine parts all around him
and a wrench in hand. He looked to be about five or six at the time. And if I thought
he was cute now, he was fucking adorable as a child. Then I started thinking about
a tiny baby Casten with rusty hair and little wrenches in his or her hands. Those
thoughts quickly passed because I would have been the mommy to the child in that dream
and let’s hope to fucking God I never become a mother. Seriously, that would not be
good. More power to the women who can birth children and raise them properly but I
can’t even take care of a dog for a week without silently hoping it runs away – I
do not need a child.

When I got back to my desk, my phone rang just about the time I was about to eat my
donut.

“Do you have donuts up there?” Casten asked, as if he could smell them from downstairs.

“No,” I lied, taking a large bite from my maple bar and chewing in his ear.

“I thought I smelled them.” I could hear his laughter through the phone even though
he was trying not to lead on.

“No.” Setting the donut down on my napkin, I took a drink from my coffee beside it.
“You were mistaken.”

“I’ll just come up there and check then. Just to be sure.”

“Fine.” I sighed intending to keep the last two for myself. “I got donuts and they’re
mine. You can’t have any.”

“Fine, I’ll just come up there and watch you eat them then.”

When he got up there I ended up giving him a donut just because he looked so sad watching
me eat mine.

Watching our interactions together, Olivia smiled widely but said nothing. As Casten
was heading back downstairs, he smiled at Olivia.

As soon as he was out of sight, she was at my desk. “You can’t tell me nothing’s going
on now. Spill the details!”

So I did. I told her about the party and how I’ve been trying to get him in bed but
he won’t give it up. She had no advice for me. None. I spilled my guts to her and
all she did was collect the information and offered nothing in return.

I had this strange feeling she had a thing for Casten. Actually, after that, I knew
she had a thing for him because all she wanted to know were the details surrounding
anything intimate between us.

There’s a reason why Anna is my only friend. It’s because of shit like Olivia pulled.

The rest of that Wednesday was spent doing the usual coffee runs, copying, writing
up minutes from the meeting on Monday and answering the phones while dirty mechanics
flirted with me on the phone. They usually called to speak to Casten or Jameson about
engine diagnostics but I usually had the pleasure of speaking to them first. Before
long I found myself talking sultry and offering up sexual references to them. I had
no idea why I did this but I did. I tend to think this was just to pass the time but
it also provided loads of entertainment for me when the confident wrenchers got tongue-tied
when I asked what their bearing clearance was.

Around six I finished up everything I needed to get done that day and thought of ways
to get Casten in bed tonight. I texted Anna for advice since I would never look to
Olivia for advice again.

I need to fuck him, what should I do? The boy keeps his dick on lock down!

She texted back immediately
:
Cole says to get naked and sit on his toolbox with a 6-pack.

Cole didn’t say that.

You’re right, he didn’t. But it’s good advice.

Contemplating my attack, I got some beer from my apartment that Adam had put in the
fridge and decided on what to wear.

It wasn’t hard to decide.

After changing into the most provocative dress I had, black, of course, I headed back
to the shop where all the lights in the office were off, aside from the flourescent
glow coming from the shop.

Walking downstairs, six-pack in hand, I had one mission. Finishing this race.

When I thought about what to expect of Casten working late, I envisioned him all greasy
and sweaty and wanting me. What surprised me the most when I opened the door was
the music blaring throughout the stereo filled the room.

Guess what song?

I nearly fell on my face with laughter.

“Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot.

Anyone who knows me knows I can shake my ass to this song like nobody’s business.
I once did a very graphic dance to this for my sixth grade talent show. Sure, I was
suspended for it, but still great memories.

By the time I reached the last step, I was so turned on singing to myself. The first
thirty seconds of the song were done and it was getting to the lyrics. What surprised
me most was when I heard that familiar voice belt the lyrics out in a way that had
me downing my beer and finding a seat across from his stall to watch this. I was not
interrupting this show.

I drank another beer and held on tight for what I knew was the biggest turn on yet.

As he sang, he was shaking his ass and dancing around as he bolted on a few parts
to the engine he was working on.

If you understood my obsession with rap, you’d understand why this affected me so.
Nobody, not even Anna, appreciated my love for the original rap. It was way before
I was born but still, the best always happened before our time.

Look at the seventies.

After thrusting in the air, Casten tossed a towel over his shoulder and stuck both
hands inside the block and moved something around, hands and wrists moving quickly,
belted out another verse.

Turning around, he tossed the towel toward his tool box missing the garbage and leaving
it laying on the concrete floor. With his focus on the engine, he practically lifted
the entire engine before turning it on the hoist for a better angle, his arms and
every muscle in his arms and chest flared with exertion. I couldn’t see his face very
well; his head was bent forward directed on the fast movements of his hands as they
worked inside the engine.

By the time the song was nearing an end, I was a little uncomfortable so I shifted
on the stool I was sitting on and fell off the motherfucker landing on my ass.

Not exactly my most graceful move yet, but so far, had I done anything graceful around
him?

Nope.

I heard a familiar chuckle over the music. “How long you been watching me?”

“Long enough to need a change of underwear,” I grunted pushing myself from the floor
before walking over to him.