Redline (5 page)
Then he holds my arm out. “Relax, Jenessa,” he says. “I'm just offering you a beer.” He places the cold bottle in my hand.
I close my fingers around it, gripping it to stop my hand from shaking. “Thanks,” I say.
The conversation near the other car has died away. The other guys are kind of watching without trying to seem like they're watching.
Part of me is telling myself to get in my car and
leave
, to not come back here again.
And another, bigger part is thrilled to be here, this close to danger. With a guy who definitely feels like someone I shouldn't be hanging out with. Who feels a bit dangerous himself.
And who's not Dmitri.
“Want some help with that?” Cody asks, nodding toward the cap on my bottle of beer. It's tight.
I narrow my eyes at him and laugh. “As if,” I say. But I keep my tone light. I snatch a corner of my jacket and reef on the cap, hoping it'll give and that I won't look like an idiot.
The cap pops off. I drop it on the pavement and knock back half the bottle in three seconds. Bless my father for showing me how to open my throat and guzzle Kool-Aid when I was eleven years old. I'm sure he has no idea how useful I've found it.
“Wow,
yeah!
” says the Bibs guy. He claps, and a couple others laugh.
I take the bottle from my lips. Cody watches. I level my gaze at him. “So? You gonna race, big guy?” I smile sweetly. “Or are you going to stand around staring at me all night?”
Laughter erupts from the group gathered around the convertible, but it ebbs quickly. Cody doesn't turn to look. He doesn't say anything either. He's not happy with me stealing his thunder.
At the same time, I can see that he likes the challenge I'm laying down. I bet there aren't a lot of people who give Cody a hard time. And chances are, if I knew him better, I might not do it either.
But for now, ignorance is bliss.
I stay until the last race of the night. At the end of the evening, as everyone's packing up, Cody comes close. He smells like beer and engine oil.
“I'll see you next week,” he says.
It's not an invitation so much as an order. But I nod. I want to come back. I want to watch the racing. And, strangely, I want more of Cody.
As I drive home, I touch the sore spots on my neck where he grabbed me for a kiss.
I wonder if he left a mark.
I'm waiting when Mark and Bibs pull in. Cody follows a few minutes later. I've parked just off the shoulder, like everyone else.
I lean against Cody's car, and we watch a few races. Mark and Mike. Bibs and some new guy, Doran. The guys are always careful to make sure the road is clear before they take off. From the starting line, you can see almost a mile in each direction. When there are no lights coming, they go. And they rotate the lookout every couple of hours. No one wants the cops hassling us.
Cody hands me a new beer every time I finish one. With him, it seems drinking isn't really an option. It's more like an expectation. I think he's on his fifth.
He's standing beside me now, his arm draped carelessly around my waist. I kind of like it. The beer has loosened me up, worn down my sharp edges. I find myself shrieking and laughing every time the cars peel off the line in a scream of rubber.
After my third beer, my vision has grown fuzzy. I reach for my cigarettes and light up. I hadn't planned on letting Cody in on my dirty little secret, but I'm feeling good tonight. And I feel like having a smoke.
I take a drag, careful to blow the smoke away from Cody. I hope he doesn't say anything.
Maybe I'll offer him one.
I take another puff and turn to see his hand moving toward my face, fast. I flinch backward. My other hand comes up to shield my face.
Cody laughs. The sound is hard. He takes the cigarette from my mouth with a sharp little yank. “Relax, Jenessa,” he says. “You're so tense. Did you think I was going to hit you or something?”
Funny, that's exactly what I thought. My heart is racing.
“You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for your health.” He holds the burning cigarette just out of reach.
Now it's my turn to laugh. His words are absurd. “Oh, and drinking and driving isn't?” I say. It spills out before I can stop it. But I'm pissed that he scared me like that.
Cody looks at me for a moment, then throws the cigarette onto the pavement. He ignores my question. “Put it out,” he says. His face is dark. “That shit's toxic. I don't want it stinking up my stage.”
I can't believe this. Stinking up his stage? Who does this guy think he is?
I don't like being pushed around. “I'll go finish this somewhere else,” I say, bending down to pick up the smoke. “Where it won't bother you.”
He lowers his boot onto my hand. Gently.
“I said,
put it out
.”
The other guys are watching, shifting nervously. My face reddens with shame. But I don't want to make him angrier.
“Okay.” It comes out sounding weak. “
Okay
,” I say, louder. “Get off me.”
He takes his foot off my hand. I stand up without looking at him. I step on the burning end and grind it out with my shoe. I want to say something nasty, something to put him in his place and tell him that I don't like the way he's treating me. But I can't predict his reactions. He's freaky. I don't know what he'll let go ofâand what'll flip him out.
As soon as I've put the cigarette out, Cody's all friendly again. I lean against the car beside him, and he puts his arm back around me.
I'm sickened when I realize I feel relieved.
A few minutes pass without us talking, and then he offers me another beer. I say no.
“What do you mean,
no
?” he asks.
I'm careful to choose the right words. I don't want to make it seem like I'm accusing him of anything. “I mean,” I say slowly, “if I drink any more, I won't be able to drive.”
“Sure you will,” he says, moving to stand in front of me. “You'll just go faster.” His tone is playful. He grins and slides his hands down to my butt.
Wow.
He's not at all the same guy I saw a few minutes ago. He presses himself against me and nuzzles my neck.
I can't help it. I smile.
Then he kisses me. It's not like Dmitri's kiss, not by a long shot, but I find my body responding to him of its own accord. I like feeling his hands around my hips, his rough stubble on my chin. No butterflies with this guy. Instead, my stomach sends out a warning signal.
Danger.
I ignore it. Give me the danger. I'll take it.
I'm no lightweight.
Unbidden, the words pop into my brain.
I bite my lip against sudden tears.
I grab Cody's butt and press into him. I pull him closer. He kisses me hard, liking my body language.
But when he moves to put his hands under my shirt, something in my core shifts. I feel sick, nauseated.
I put my hands over his to stop them. I think as fast as my beer-fuzzed brain will let me. I don't want to offend or embarrass him, so I think about my words.
“Not here,” I say, nodding toward the others. I fake a smile and punch him lightly on the chest to soften my message.
I catch something in his eyes, and the signals in my gut go all weird. I don't understand what I want. My heart is beating fast.
I want him to kiss me again. I want to be stupid.
Danger.
I lean forward again, but he just laughs.
“Let's go.”
“Go?” I parrot.
“Yeah, let's race.”
I blink. “What? Right now? I can't drive like this.” If I'm not over the limit, then I'm definitely close to it. And I'm not even legal yet.
Cody stares at me for a moment, then shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He drops his hands and steps away from me. I watch as he takes a pull on the beer that's in his hand. I can feel the chill coming off him.
I suddenly feel empty.
I stick around for a while and try to talk with him. But his answers get shorter and shorter. I go to talk with the other guys, but it's obvious they don't want to have much to do with me if Cody's mad.
I'm angry that I'm making a mess of everything. Including my own brain.
I watch one more race, standing alone by Cody's car.
Almost everybody has been eliminated from tonight's showdown. Cody and Bibs will be the last race of the night.
Cody doesn't even acknowledge me as he climbs into his seat and starts the engine.
Stumbling a bit from the beer, I leave.
I shouldn't go back down there. I feel stupid and small and embarrassed after last week's disagreement with Cody. But I still want to race.
Andâdamn itâI want to see Cody. I feel like I disappointed him last week.
I take a few beers from the fridge and leave the house around midnight. Dad's out at some meeting. I'm nervous about how Cody will treat me when I show up, so I pop the top on one of the bottles. It'll take the edge off. That, and a bit of music. And maybe a smoke.
The early summer air feels warm on my face as I drive down to the stage. I park on the shoulder and wait. I take a wet wipe out of the packet I bought earlier in the week and scrub my fingers so Cody can't smell the cigarette.
My mixed messages start up again. Maybe he won't show up tonight. Maybe that would be a good thing. The guy's got to take a day off every now and then, right?
Right.
I feel a mixture of fear and excitement when he pulls up. First car of the night.
He kills the engine and climbs out. Motions for me to do the same. And, like a robot, I do. He doesn't even say hello, just grabs the back of my neck and presses his mouth against mine. My air leaves me in a sharp gasp and he leans into me against the side of my car, pressing his pelvis into me. I tip my head back, and he pushes his hands into my hair.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispers against my throat. “I missed you.” A shiver works its way from the bottom of my spine all the way out to my fingertips. His hands find their way under my shirt. I don't try to stop him this time.
I'm no lightweight.
I lean into Cody, wanting to please him. He unbuttons my jeans and slips his hand inside, rough. But I can live with it. He likes it.
And that makes me happy.
I hardly notice when another car pulls up. But Cody does. He pulls back suddenly, leaving me to yank my shirt down over my unbuttoned pants in the glare of the other car's headlights.
I turn my back. My hands shake as I quickly zip my jeans and button them. My face burns. Shame prickles in my throat.
Isn't this what you wanted, Jenessa?
My head's spinning, and I've only had one beer.
Cody goes around to the passenger side of his car and pulls out his cooler of beer. He throws one in my direction. I forget about trying to straighten my shirt and grab for the bottle. I don't want it to hit the ground. Who knows how mad he'd be if I let that happen.
He laughs.
The night has begun.
“Hey, Jenessa. How's by you?”
My heart stops when I hear Dmitri's voice. I didn't check the caller id before picking up. I was assuming it'd be a telemarketer.
I figured Dmitri had given up on me. It's been weeks since that night we parked. Weeks since I turned into a blubbering idiot in front of him.
“I'mâ¦good,” I say. “Busy.” I pause. “Midterms and all.”
Dmitri laughs. The sound of it loosens something inside me. Releases a tightness in my chest that I didn't even know was there.
“Yeah,” he says. “Exams suck. Studying hard?”
I pause. I bite my tongue against a sudden desire to tell him how sorry I am for blowing him off.
“Yeah,” I say. “I'm almost through them now though.”
“Well, that's good,” he says. “Maybe we can get out to the track yet.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Why does he have to be so goddamned friendly
?
I glance at the clock. I'm due out at the stage in half an hour. Cody's expecting me. I don't want to be late.
The tightness returns.
I close my eyes and rub them with one hand. “Maybe,” I answer.
I know I'm blowing Dmitri off again. It's so rude. I'm angry with myself. With him for calling me. For making me be mean to him.
I want to throw something.
I force myself to take a deep breath. “Dmitri,” I say.
He doesn't wait for me. “I haven't seen you around much,” he says. His voice is quieter, serious. “Actually, I haven't seen you around at all.”
