The Lovely Reckless (28 page)

“Why are you doing this?” I stare at my father, the man who is supposed to protect me. The man hurting me more than anyone ever has.

“I'm saving you from ruining the rest of your life.”

“I don't need anyone to save me!” I yell so loud that my throat feels raw.

Dad doesn't flinch. “So what's it going to be, Frankie? Do you love this boy enough to give him up?”

 

CHAPTER 33

THE SPEED OF SORROW

I don't remember leaving the barracks. Everything feels like a blur after Dad's
deal
—that's what he's calling the choice he gave me.
Destroying your daughter's life
doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

Outside, I stumble down the steps and miss the last one, cracking my knee on the sidewalk. The odors of gasoline, stale cigarette smoke, and vending-machine coffee mingle in the air. Cruz gets out of the car the moment she sees me.

What do I tell her?

“Frankie?” She frowns.

Around me, sirens wail and red and blue lights flash as police cars fly out of the parking lot. It reminds me of the night Noah died.

“What happened in there? You look like someone beat the crap out of you.”

Someone did.

We're only a few parking spaces away from Cruz's car. Ava watches us from the driver's-side window.

“Wait.” I stop walking. “I need to tell you something, but not in front of your sister. Can we drop her off?”

“Yeah, but we can't hang out at my house. My dad doesn't let us have anyone over.”

“We'll drop Ava off and go somewhere else.”

“I still can't drive.” Cruz lifts her sling away from her chest.

“I can.”

“Your license is suspended.”

“Ask me if I care.” My voice cracks, and I close my eyes.

“Now you're freaking me out.” She grabs my arm and drags me to the car.

As Ava drives, I stare out the window from the backseat. Cruz turns around to check on me, but she doesn't ask any questions. The ride isn't long enough, and I still haven't figured out how to tell her that my dad is the cop who arrested Marco.

But I am going to tell her.

Cruz trusted me with the truth about her abusive father—a secret that could land Cruz and her sisters in foster care if the wrong person found out.

We drop Ava off, and I slide into the driver's seat. I hit the gas, the GT-R flies backward out of the parking space. A quick jerk on the wheel, and the car fishtails and ends up facing in the direction I want to go.

Away from here.

Cruz puts her hand on the dashboard for support. “Are you crazy? Or do you want to end up in jail, too?”

The gearshift slides from fourth to fifth gear, and we pass the recycling plant where Cruz coached me before the race.

“Where are you going?” she asks. When I don't respond, she smacks her hand against the dash. “Frankie? Answer me or pull over.”

“To V Street.” I wasn't sure until now.

“For what? Did you hear something at the police station?”

“I need to drive.” Fast and hard—if I want to outrun the feelings that will break my heart when they catch up with me.

“Pull over.” Cruz isn't screwing around, but I can't stop.

My hands tighten on the wheel. “If I keep moving, nothing will change. Everything will be okay.”

“Why isn't everything okay?” Cruz sounds calmer, as if she sees the hurricane churning around me.

Headlights flicker in the distance.

“Because my dad is a cop.”

Cruz falls back against the seat, her eyes wide. “You're bullshitting me, right?”

The gas pedal vibrates under my foot. The rest of my body is numb. “He works undercover on an auto theft task force. He's the one who busted Marco.” My voice cracks. “And he used me to do it. Marco met me at my mom's house, and my dad followed him after he left.”

Up ahead, a row of cars form a path to the strip of asphalt the street racers use as a track. I downshift, and the car slows to a normal speed.

“Does Marco know?” Cruz asks. Her voice sounds cold.

“Yes.”

She nods and stares straight ahead. “Did you set Marco up?”

Music pulses outside, but with the windows rolled up, we remain insulated—in a cocoon that's unraveling around us.

“I would
never
do anything like that to Marco. I'm in love with him.”

Cruz sighs. “I had to ask.” She turns in her seat, and I feel her eyes drilling into me. “Your dad's job was a big secret to keep from me. I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” I say.

“Friends are supposed to trust each other.”

“I do trust you, or I wouldn't have told you. If anyone finds out he's a cop—”

“I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about.” Cruz ignores the people waving at her as we drive past the parked cars. “Sofia has nowhere to go if Marco ends up in jail.”

“Where is Sofia now? Is she alone?”

Cruz shakes her head. “Don't worry. She's at Miss Lorraine's. She stays there on nights Marco races or … you know. Miss Lorraine thinks he's working at the body shop after hours. What if he gets locked up, Frankie?”

“He won't.” I pull over, my eyes trained on Video Game Girl as her arms drop and two cars launch down the street. “My dad isn't charging Marco. He's letting him go.” Darkness swallows the two cars, and I want to disappear, too.

“Why would he do that?” she asks.

“We made a deal. I stop seeing Marco and my dad lets him walk, as long as he doesn't get into any more trouble.” I roll down the window.

The smell of burnt rubber and exhaust reminds me of the night I raced Cruz's car. With my feet on the pedals and my hand on the gearshift, the outside world didn't exist. I want that feeling again—the rush of driving over a hundred miles an hour. The distraction of vibrating floorboards and an engine revving in subtle ways that only I can hear.

“Marco will never go for it,” Cruz says finally.

“He will if I don't tell him.” The next thought makes my throat burn, and I can't hold back the tears. “I'm going to end it.”

Cruz sucks in a breath. “Without telling him why?”

The street racers return to the starting line.

“It's the only way to protect him … and Sofia.” Saying the words steals whatever false hope I have left. I'll never kiss Marco again or feel his arms around me.

“I want to race your car.” I curl my fingers around the wheel. Losing myself—blocking out the pain—it's the only way I'll survive giving him up.

“You're bawling, and you want to race?”

I wipe my eyes on the bottom of my shirt. “Yes.”

“This is a bad idea. You're losing your shit right now, and you aren't thinking straight. The race against Pryor wasn't the way things normally go. He gave you a car length, and he was driving an unmodified car.” She points at the racing strip. “You won't get those odds twice.”

“I don't care.”

Cruz shakes her head. “You can't just race for fun. You've gotta put up money or a car—and if you think I'm letting you bet a car that doesn't even belong to me—”

“I've got money.” I pull a wad of bills out of my bag.

“Do you always carry around that much cash?”

“I brought it in case we needed it for bail.”

Cruz holds out her hand. “How much?”

I give her the money, and the bills unfold into a crumpled mess in her palm. “Two hundred.”

“You've obviously never bailed anyone out of jail before, because this wouldn't cover it.”

“He won't need it now,” I say softly.

“This is still a lot of money. Are you sure you want to throw it away on a race?”

“Unless you'll take it. You could use it for part of the rent next month.”

Cruz laughs. “Thanks. But I'll be out of this sling in a week. I like to pay my own way.”

“Then I want to race.” I'll do anything to take this pain away, even for a minute. But there's another reason. I need to say good-bye.

Good-bye to the girl who fell in love with a street racer—a girl who raced one crazy night and won. I'm still that girl, but part of her belongs to Marco.

“Wait here. I'll see what I can do.” Cruz heads into the crowd, blending in with the other girls from the Downs. I'll never be one of them, but I don't feel like I'm from the Heights anymore, either. I'm caught in the middle.

I'm not sure how long Cruz is gone. Eventually, I see her silhouette and long ponytail swaying behind her. She opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. “I scored you a race, but it wasn't easy. Most people want to race for more than two hundred bucks.” She gestures at the starting line. “Let's go.”

I focus on Video Game Girl leaning through the window of a black muscle car.

When I pull up next to the car, Cruz gets out and Video Game Girl snaps to attention. As she steps away from the car, I see the driver.

Ortiz from Shop class grins at me. “You sure about this, Frankie? I don't wanna take your money.”

“I'm sure.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.” He pats the dashboard. “My girl needs a racing clutch.”

Cruz steps away from the car and joins the crowd. Video Game Girl follows the same sequence she did when I raced before—she checks in with the drivers, issues instructions, and stands in her designated spot.

We flash our headlights to signal we're ready.

My movements feel more natural this time as my feet exert the ideal amount of pressure on the pedals to hold the GT-R at five thousand RPMs. I keep my hand on the gearshift, eyes on the road, and ears tuned to the engine. I focus on the gold bangles on Video Game Girl's wrists, waiting for her arms to drop.

The second they do, I let out the clutch and hit the gas. The engine guns, and when I hear the RPMs reach the magic number, I shift.

Second gear …

Third …

Ortiz pulls ahead, and his engine roars.

Fourth …

Fifth …

Sixth …

His taillights fly ahead of me, as if Cruz's car is moving in slow motion and Ortiz is driving at warp speed.

I don't care.

Adrenaline races through my veins, and my bones thrum from the speed. In this moment, no one else controls me or my future. No one decides who I love or hate.

Ortiz crosses the finish line as I'm circling back. The headlights from the rows of cars on V Street fade, and there's nothing but darkness—the kind I want to lose myself in.

When I make it back, Cruz runs up to the car and hops in, her forehead creased with worry. “You okay?”

“No.” My voice is a whisper.

Ortiz jogs up to Cruz's car and taps on the roof. “Nice job, Frankie.” He winks at Cruz. “I get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside knowing that my future wife is a good teacher.”

She rolls her eyes and holds out the cash. “You'd think a guy with an imagination like yours would get better grades.”

“I feel bad taking your money, Frankie.” Ortiz stares at the bills in Cruz's hand.

“But let me guess?” she asks. “You'll still take it?”

“Damn straight.” He stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans and jogs toward a group of girls shouting his name. “Duty calls.”

“Did racing make you feel any better?” Cruz asks when he's gone.

“I'm not ready to lose him.” My voice trembles.

Cruz bites her lip. “He won't get over this, Frankie.”

“Neither will I.”

 

CHAPTER 34

THIS IS HOW WE BREAK

I leave the house the next morning in time to watch an angry sunrise—a yellow sky streaked with red. Dad came home after two o'clock in the morning and cracked my bedroom door to see if I was still awake. I kept my face buried in the damp pillow under my cheek and pretended to be asleep.

I texted Marco right away.

r u up?

After a few minutes the bubbles appeared on the screen.

yeah. i need to talk to you.

We agreed to meet just after sunrise—early enough that Dad would still be asleep, but late enough that I wasn't sneaking out in the middle of the night. I left a note on the kitchen table.

Keeping my end of the deal.
Be back.

No
Love, Frankie
. Dad and I were way past that.

I took the bus and walked under the last red streaks in the sky, and now I'm sitting on the curb in Lot B, waiting for Marco. The first time I saw him was in this parking lot. It wasn't that long ago, but it feels like forever now that it's about to end.

Across the street, kids in pajamas push their way out of the 7-Eleven, their parents carrying white paper bags and coffee cups. As a kid, I loved Saturday mornings. I spent most of the day in my pajamas, too.

After today I'll hate Saturdays and angry sunrises, the sight of 7-Eleven and Lot B.

Marco pulls in a few spaces away from where I'm sitting, but he doesn't rush over and scoop me up in his arms. He approaches me slowly, the dark circles around his eyes proof that he didn't sleep last night, either.

My heart skips.

How am I going to break his heart and mine—and walk away?

Because you love him, you have to protect him.

Marco stops in front of me, shoulders hunched. “Did you tell your dad I was meeting you at Lex's?”

“How can you ask me that?” The words hit me like a slap.

He drags his hands over his head and sits next to me. “I need you to answer me.”

“Of course not.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “I told you I love you, and you're asking me if I sold you out to my father? It's nice to know what you really think of me.” I turn and head toward the sidewalk.