Page 34 of Vile Bastards
Widow’s got four under his belt that I know of, so he’s well on his way there.
“If you don’t race me, you can sleep on the frosty roof the way Bohnes does sometimes.” Actually, I’m pretty sure that Bohnes never sleeps. Sometimes, after I’m finally able to get away from my overanxious family (who knew almost dying would put my mom up my ass?), I open the window to find Bohnes curled on his side like he’s asleep. He never starts, never misses a beat. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that if he does sleep, he does so with one eye open.
“If I win, what do I get?” Widow asks, his voice low and invitational in nature. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what he might request from me. After all, he wouldn’t be the first guy to want me in his bed after a win on the track.
While I’ve been letting Bohnes in at night to share my bed, Widow takes watch during the day so that he’s not constantly breaking curfew. Because his watch is during daylight hours, we’ve had less opportunity to copulate, if you catch my drift.
“If I win, I want you to make me your boyfriend.” He crosses his arms, too, mimicking my pose, and I stare at him.
Christ.
Here we go.
I can’t upgrade Widow to boyfriend just yet, not without pissing Bohnes off. The dance of a fuckboy’s mistress is a complicated one; I have to keep their little studded fuckboy leashes from tangling.
But do I really think that Widow’s right, that he could beat me today? He’s good, I won’t lie, and I remember his declaration from the library that day when he admitted to underestimating Prescott and working on his car. He swore he’d come back and beat Bohnes.
I’d love to see that, by the way, the two of them duking it out over me again. Maybe Widow could race for Bohnes’ forgiveness? If he won, that’d smooth things over. If he lost, whatever Bohnes requested from the race would certainly go a long way to erasing some of Widow’s emotional debt.
“Well?” he asks, that word a challenge. It digs under my skin like a splinter, throbbing and aching and bleeding. Widow smirks at me and cocks a brow. “That’s what I thought. If you’re scared, baby girl, don’t worry about it. Your man’s got your back.”
I know what he’s doing here. How dare you try to reverse psychology me, you son of a bitch. At least, for his sake, that better be what he’s doing because if he thinks I’m going to let a fuckboy mouth off at me like that, he’s got an ass beating heading his way.
“Get your ass down to the track.” I turn away from him, white go-go booties pounding through the mud. I pause just once to glance over my shoulder. “If I win, not only will you remain a fuckboy, you’ll take me on a proper date. If you want boyfriend status, then earn it.”
“Boyfriend?” Nisha asks just before I close the driver’s side door of the Pantera, pausing with one leg out, one in as I slip on my riding gloves. “You gotta be fucking kidding me? As if this walking, talking block of toxic masculinity needs an ego boost?”
I snort at her, slamming the door shut, starting the radio, and then heading down to the track.
I’m relieved to find that I feel okay. My palms aren’t sweaty. My heart isn’t racing. I’m even grooving out to ‘Lola’ by Iggy Azalea and Alice Chater, singing the oddly appropriate lyrics about car chases and sidepieces. This could be a theme song for my life, I think as Bastian climbs up the ladder to the seat where the flagger sits.
There’s no grand marshal on duty today; it’s not an official track day. But Widow and I don’t need one. Basti can wave the flag for us, and Nisha can act as a referee if necessary. Problem solved.
Everything seems to be fine as Basti signals the start of the race, and Widow and I take off. Initially, we’re side by side, but I quickly pull ahead of him. The Pantera was known as a supercar in its day for a reason.
But then … I hit one of the many bumps on the track—coincidentally, the largest one—and I catch some air. And then it’s happening to me all over again. I’m getting that feeling in my belly that only comes with the force of gravity, that lurching, sickening falling feeling that I’ve always loved and cherished so much. Each time I get it, my body floods with adrenaline, and I find myself on top of the world looking down.
Especially that last time, as Alexei and I went over the edge and into the river. It was simultaneously one of the best and also one of the worst moments in my life save for two things: my brother and cousins’ deaths, and Lemon’s death.
