I almost choke. “Jesus Christ, Flynn. Really? He could’ve killed you.”
When she glares at me, my teeth clack together and I shut up.
“We raced a quarter mile, and he kicked my BMW’s ass in his two-thousand-dollar Honda.”
“Did you lose the car to him?”
She shakes her head. “No, we weren’t racing for pinks.”
“What were you racing for then?”
Her face turns red, and I can imagine what it was. “You slept with him because he won?”
“Blow job. Turns out, I wasn’t great at those either, but I learned a lot that night.”
“Flynn!”
“I would’ve banged him either way, so it’s not like it mattered. It just made the whole experience even more exciting. Anyway, we started dating, and he taught me about cars and racing, and how not to underestimate other people. A car might look like a piece of shit, but you don’t know what they have under the hood or what modifications they’ve made. He also helped me tune up the Bimmer and taught me to drive for real. I was hooked after the first night.”
She pauses to take another sip of her coffee.
“It’s hard to explain the adrenaline rush you get when you’re at the line, waiting for them to drop the flag. And then they do ... and you launch the car and hold on for your damn life. It’sepic.”
From her voice, I can tell how much she loves it, and I’m happy for her, despite the fact that her favorite hobby isillegal. And dangerous.
“And when you came home, you kept doing it?”
“Yeah, but I’d earned enough money for my freshman year of college before I left boarding school. It got so bad that no one in the school would race me because everyone knew I would take their cars, and then they’d have to explain to Mommy and Daddy what happened. It didn’t make me a lot of friends, and the guys whose egos I crushed steered clear of me.” She laughs, and I can’t help but love the hearty sound.
“How often do you do it?”
She shrugs. “As often as I can safely. It’s hard to keep a low profile in Manhattan’s street-racing community, so I race in Jersey and Pennsylvania too.”
“You’re living a double life!”
Flynn slants her head and meets my gaze. “Aren’t you too? I mean, you and this Legend guy? That’s like an alternate reality, Scar.”
I press my lips together and think of the white dress I’m going to put on tomorrow night before we head to the club. The dress that I’ve never been able to wear in my normal life. Maybe Flynn’s right.
“Does it matter if it’s a double life, as long as I’m living?” The question is rhetorical, but Flynn answers anyway.
“No. Not at all. You’ve always been so perfect and straitlaced. When our parents first got married, I have to admit, I didn’t really like you. You were the ideal I would never beanddidn’t want to be.”
I reach out to cover her hand with mine on the chipped Formica table. “I’m sorry you felt that way, Flynn. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t ...”
She shakes her head to silence me. “Don’t worry about it, Scar. Our parents couldn’t make that shit work, even if they’d both been trying instead of secretly looking for an exit. But, hey, we’re here now, and I’m cool with that. Maybe we should just make plans to meet up at Dolly’s a couple times a month. We can have our own breakfast club. Thelegendarybreakfast club.”
A flush rises up my face at the play on Legend’s name, but I just nod. “That sounds perfect, Flynn. It’s a date.”
Fifty-Two
Legend
“Today’s the day! She’s coming back!” For the last forty-eight hours, Bump has been bouncing around like a kid hopped up on sugar and counting down to Christmas.
Me? Well, I’m fucking counting down too.
The text waiting on my phone this morning was enough to send me straight to the shower to take care of business.