Junkie: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “No. I want you…” Double meaning. Shut up, Cash. “I want you to watch. You can rate my performance and give me any pointers.” Ahhh, there he is. Welcome back, Rico Suave. “Come on.” I grab her hand, ignoring the zap when I entwine my fingers around hers. We walk in silence for a few moments until my brain takes the wheel. “So, why did you decide to come back?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, and I want to kick myself for asking such a dumb question. Obviously, if she’s at The House, her story isn’t a good one. I’ve seen the kids who come in and out of there. It guts me to hear their sad stories.

  “I wanted to see an amateur race. Didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity.”

  I snort, throwing my head back and gushing out an honest to God belly laugh. “Amateur. That’s cute. I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but you may be getting more than you bargained for. In a few moments, I’m going to show you better than amateur.”

  We pop out of the corridor, Becks and my crew already waiting. It’s not until I reach them and follow Becks’ curious stare that I realize I’m still holding Luna’s hand.

  I let her go without making her feel like I’m dismissing her and address the crew. “Everyone, this is Luna. She’s staying at The House for the time being, which means she’s donating her time to volunteer with us. Make her feel at home and help her with anything she needs.”

  God, I sound like a pussy. Never have I cared about the volunteers before. For a moment there, Becks loses his scowl, a curious grin taking its place.

  Becks sticks his hand out to shake hers. “Hey there, Luna. Hope everyone’s treating you okay around here. Be careful of this one. His charm is about as dangerous as his driving.”

  “Nice to meet you. And don’t worry; I’d be affected if it was actual charm instead of feeling like I walked into the Twilight Zone.” The entire crew chokes up a laugh. I want to argue, but I haven’t been the most stable since meeting her.

  “Yeah, yeah, just wait. You can stand with the crew or head up into the grandstands. The best seat is always front and center,” I say, winking at her. Her eyes gleam with shyness, her femininity showing as she tries to hide her flushing cheeks. She nods and walks away from the crew to take a seat in the grandstand. Satisfied I finally had a positive effect on her, I bring my attention to my team.

  “Okay, what do we have?”

  Everyone falls into place, focus and attention on this race their main priority. “Our angle of attack is centered around the new anti-sway bar. We want you going faster around the bend without over aerating the breaks. We’ve been working on the left side suspension.” Jimmy pulls out the layout, pointing to the adjustments made on the car. “Also, you said at Daytona the arm restraints were buggin’ ya. So we made adjustments there. Today, our goal is to get you around that bend and shave off at least seven seconds per lap. Justice Miles is still ahead of you in time.”

  I hate hearing that anyone is better than me. I don’t spend practically every waking hour training for someone else to be the best. “Well…you want me to save the car or scrub the tires?” I ask, but I know I need to do both.

  “You got it, Cash. Now, get in the damn car so we can do our jobs.”

  “Yes, sir.” I salute Beckett and walk over to my car, a NTT series, twin turbo-charged, V6, seven-hundred turbo boost. She’s my second baby next to the Charger. I stretch my balaclava over my head and slide on my helmet. Before I snuggle into the cockpit, I sneak a peek at Luna. Bad idea. The sun bounces off her hair, making her look like a damn goddess. Her name sure does suit her.

  I slide into the car and start her up, the purr of the engine putting me at ease. Some might think it’s the speed that gets me high, but it’s driving on the edge of insanity that I crave. It’s every turn, bend, and curve of that track I master until I’ve completed the perfect lap, testing the limits on how far I can push my car. It’s about complete and utter control. People ask me if I have a death wish. Of course not, I reply. No one wishes to get in that car knowing they’re not getting out of it. But maybe, deep down inside, my real answer is absolutely. In all honesty, it’s not about having a death wish out there. It’s about being willing to step outside the boundaries of my safety zone and allow my mind to take complete ownership. And when I can find that place deep inside myself, it makes me feel more alive than anything I can put into words. The follow-up question is always then why do you do it? And my answer is always the same: to prove I can.

  “All right, Romeo. Take her out.” Becks’ voice chimes through my headset. I pull past the blend line and bring her onto the track. I start off fast, hitting eighty-seven as I make the first bend. Once I straighten out, I snap the clutch, bringing her to a solid one-twenty. “How’s the wing pulling?” Becks asks as I make another wrap around.

  “Good. She seems happy with the setup. I’d say she was hooked up perfectly.” Another lap, and I turn it up a notch, bringing her to one-forty.

  “The aero?”

  “Smooth. Looks like Jimmy took my advice. The rear tires have a bite to them, though.”

  “That’s because you have a need for speed, and we can’t have you blistering a tire in the first round.” I laugh into my mic at his very true comment. “I sent you out with half a tank of gas to test out the burn off. Do you feel a change from yesterday?”

  “Let me give her a few more laps.” I spring her to life, throttling hard, and bring her to an impressive speed around the apex of the track. This is the shit I crave. A pure junkie for adrenaline. The way my heart accelerates. My blood pumps wildly through my body. The control I have with the grip of the steering wheel. The power I hold when I play chicken with every obstacle that gets in my way of winning.

  It’s the only time my mind stops. The darkness disappears beneath my feet, and I simply race. The one place I can think about him and not hate myself.

  “I think she’s had enough. Bring her in.”

  Becks’ stern voice pulls me out of my haze. I complete my last lap and bring her in, my crew standing and waiting for me to shut her down. Jumping out of the car, I pull my helmet off, not missing Becks’ scowl.

  “I know you want to win, Cash, but reckless driving ain’t the way. Shit like that’s gonna get you killed,” Beckett snaps, calling me out for taking the bend too fast.

  I walk up to him, handing Jimmy my helmet. “No, fear will. You saw how perfect I took that bend. I’m unstoppable.” I grant him my smirky grin, then slap Jimmy on the back and head toward the grandstand where Luna is starting to make her way down.

  “Not sure Luke would say the same.”

  My body flinches, and I stall in my step, turning to face Beckett. “Watch it,” I growl, my previous smile wiped clean from my face.

  “I’ll stop when you learn to listen to instruction. You may have just won the Fontana, but that doesn’t mean shit. Get your head out of your ass. The shit you pulled out there, if that was a real race… you’d not only be putting yourself in danger, but others as well.”

  “I’m doing my job—”

  “And I wouldn’t be doing mine if I continued to let you drive wild. I get it. The anniversary is coming up. We’re all thinking about it. And I refuse to let you go down like he did.”

  My jaw tightens, my teeth grinding. I rip my searing eyes from his, unable to stand the pity shining back at me. I whip around and slam into Luna. “Shit.”

  “Oh god!” she yelps. I reach forward and grab for her before she bounces off my chest and tumbles to the ground. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You wanna get outta here?” I ask without thought.

  “Like…leave? I have to—”

  “Jimmy will wash the cars and do whatever it is you have to. I’m starving.”

  She gives me an odd look, her long lashes glimmering in the sun. “Um, yeah…sure.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Great, just let me go change. I’ll meet you up front in twenty.” She nods, and I go inside. Her willingness to come with me after I
’ve been such a creep satisfies me. Shit, I openly admitted I’ve been a creep. Well, this is my chance to redeem myself.

  I jog down the corridor to the locker room, discard my suit, and throw myself under the cold shower spray. Seventeen minutes later, I walk out, finding Luna with her back toward me, gazing out into the parking lot. I barely see her face, but when she angles toward me a bit, I catch her bright honey eyes, her mouth in a thin line.

  “Ready?”

  She jumps at my voice and twists around, her hair spraying along her face. “Geesh, you scared me.”

  “Sorry. Deep thought?” I ask, familiar with that look. I seem to be having a lot of those myself lately.

  “Uh, no. Just…no. Where are we going?” Ah…change of subject. She has a secret. Something I know all too well. I catch her off guard when I grab her hand. A slight shutter of nerves travels up her arms along with a wave of unease sweeps across her face, but she quickly masks it with a blank smile. I should let her hand go—she’s clearly uncomfortable—but I don’t.

  “Only the best burger joint in all of Santa Monica.” I don’t say another word and walk her to my car. With my manners on point, I open her door, but she hesitates to get in. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite,” I say. “Unless you try to steal her.” I laugh, then grunt as her elbow hits me in the gut. “Joke,” I choke out, still laughing. She slides into the passenger seat and begins fumbling with her seat belt. I wouldn’t be a true gentleman if I didn’t help, so I bend down and lean forward, inching my nose near her neck. The sweet scent of her shampoo greets me, reminding me of the night we met. To further the growing discomfort in my pants, I click the seatbelt, then make another mistake of bringing my eyes to hers as I pull back. Soft honey, like a warm amber liquid, feeding a craving I never knew existed. And I could lose myself in the scent of her. There’s something so exotic about her. So many questions tumble through my mind, needing answers. She has a story to tell. Her eyes give her away, and there’s no doubt I’m going to have to work for it to unveil all her secrets.

  I realize how outlandish I’m behaving and pull back. “All set. Safety first.” I push away from the car and close her door, needing that barrier between us. Why is this stranger causing my head to spin? I love women. All women. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been with someone in over two weeks. The race had me so consumed, my poor bedsheets are lacking action.

  But it’s not that.

  Maybe it’s the anniversary. I’ve been pushing myself harder than ever since I started racing to cope with it. Sleep has been nonexistent unless it’s coated with half a bottle of scotch or tequila. Beckett isn’t wrong. Right now, I am being reckless. But fuck it. It didn’t stop him from getting into the car. It won’t stop me.

  Luna

  Thump, thump, thump.

  God, please don’t let him hear the erratic beating of my heart. Maybe I should get out of the car. It’s moving, Luna. Right. Shoot. Why did I say yes? Because you recognized the look in his eyes and knew he needed you. His racing was intense. No, it was outright insane. The way he took those corners at an unsafe speed. I couldn’t decipher all the emotions sifting through me—excitement, fear, amazement. Adrenaline shot through my body as I imagined myself out on that track. It was already hot outside, but with each lap, my temperature rose. My legs quivered, and I urged that bizarre feeling to go back to wherever it came from. I can’t remember the last time someone caused such havoc in my head and body. But I couldn’t stop it. I blame it on the racing. The high it was giving me had nothing on the driver who was wreaking havoc on my lady parts.

  What the heck is wrong with me? He’s a famous, gorgeous racecar driver. And yeah, he’s been flirting with me…I think. Even though he’s been strange about it, but maybe that’s just him. A quirky womanizer.

  He may want something from me, but he doesn’t want me. And I refuse to be an object to him.

  My pep talk puts me in a sour mood as we drive up to a hut overlooking the ocean. “This is it?” I ask, skeptical of the ragged looking structure.

  “The best places are always hidden.” He parks just off the pier, the bluest ocean surrounding us and offers me his Cheshire smile. I follow as he jumps out. My nose tingles as the smell of fried food hits me. I can almost taste the saltiness of fries and a juicy burger on my tongue. My mouth starts to salivate, and my stomach growls. I throw my hand over my stomach in embarrassment, hoping Cash didn’t hear the hungry wolf inside my belly awakened by the delicious aroma.

  “Sure you wanna eat here? We can find somewhere more—”

  “No. Here,” I cut him off, needing that juicy burger in my mouth like right now. He laughs, his hand pressing to my lower back. I try to fight it, but my body has a mind of its own. I shiver at his touch. He doesn’t remove his hand or make mention of the way I react to him, which I’m thankful for. I wouldn’t know how to explain it if he did.

  We enter the shack, and I’m pleasantly surprised at how quaint it is inside. Colorful tables line the small restaurant. Photos fill the walls of people who I assume have eaten here. Cash doesn’t wait for us to be seated and picks a table in back where the window opens to a spectacular view of the water.

  “Wow, it’s beautiful,” I admit, staring off into the bluest water. When I bring my eyes back to Cash, I notice he too is admiring the view. “Is this where you bring all your girls?” Why did I ask that? I’m not his girl.

  “No. Just my brother. This is our place. You’re actually the first girl I’ve brought here.” I can tell even he’s shocked at his own admittance. I don’t want to think too much into it, so I try to change the subject.

  “What’s your brother—?”

  “Well, if it isn’t Cash Huntington, the sexiest racecar driver in all of California,” a high-pitched voice interrupts. We both cock our heads to a middle-aged woman, her hair in a tight bun and her lips the shade of a cherry, with a yellow apron almost as blinding as the sun.

  Cash stands to greet her. “Well, if it isn’t Darla, the sexiest waitress in all of California.” He leans in and they embrace in a hug, telling me they have a long friendship.

  “Missed you, baby. Haven’t seen you in over a—well…it’s been some time. How the heck are ya? Saw you won the Fontana Grand Prix. We were all so proud of ya.”

  Cash pulls away, but keeps her in his arms. “Yeah. But did you expect any other outcome?”

  “Of course not. No one has the need for speed like Cash Huntington,” she accentuates his name, as if sharing an inside joke. They stand there for a few more moments, until her curiosity takes me in. “And who’s this pretty little thing? Is it a full moon or did you bring a female into my restaurant?”

  Cash releases her and takes his seat. He grabs my attention, his lips curling into a smile. “Darla, this is Luna. Luna is helping out at the Speedway. Jackson—”

  “Hi, nice to meet you.” I shove my hand out, ready to shake hers. Her inquisitive stare clearly questions why I rudely cut him off, but the last thing I want is to have him introduce me to someone as a foster kid reject. “Cash tells me you have the best burgers in all of California.”

  Darla’s cheeks flush at the compliment. Sneaking a peak at him, she smiles wide. “Well, that is a fact. And since he brought you here, I better make sure that statement stays true. How about I set you both up with the Darla Special?”

  “I’m not sure she can handle the Darla Special, but I say we find out,” Cash replies for me, his entire expression glimmering with trouble. I want to tell him I can handle anything, but then he winks at me, and I realize I can’t. His wink makes my breath catch and steals the rebuttal right out of me. Darla takes that as her cue to leave. The moment she disappears into the kitchen, Cash starts.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know—”

  “Yep, no, it’s fine. I’d just rather strangers not know where I came from.”

  “And where did you come from?”

  I fiddle with the napkin in front of me, tearing off a small piece, not knowin
g how to answer the question. I don’t want anyone to know who I truly am. Where I came from. What a low life I’ve become. If he knew my story, it would further justify his theory of me attempting to steal his car. He’ll stop looking at me like he does, in the way that makes me feel beautiful…wanted. He’ll probably call the cops, and then I’m screwed.

  “Listen, you don’t have to tell me—”

  “No, it’s… I don’t want her to judge me, thinking I’m some lost foster kid. I’m not. I just needed somewhere to…and The House…Jackson was willing to give me a place to stay.” Wow, that sounded way more pathetic than I intended it to.

  Cash doesn’t take his eyes off me, his stare inquisitive. “Okay. I won’t pry. But I do have to ask…”

  “Isn’t that considered prying, though?”

  He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “I guess it is. It’s just…I know The House is for kids. And I have to admit, you don’t come across as a kid to me.”

  “If you’re attempting to be nonchalant in asking me how old I am, I’m almost twenty-one. You’re right. I’m way past foster care handouts. But…”

  He must catch the stress in my tone. The struggle in how to lie about why I’m there.

  “Hey, no prying. You’re forcing me to know too much about you.” I’m struck silent for a second, confused at his comment, but the smirk growing along his lips tells me he’s messing with me. “So, why racing?”

  His change in topic lifts some of the tension weighing on my shoulders. I drop the napkin, leaning back in my own chair, watching him take a sip of his water, finding ease in my reply. “I’m a speed junkie.” He chokes, spitting his water out. “Jesus, are you okay?” I grab my mangled napkin and hand it to him as he wipes off his chin.

  “Yeah…shit. It’s just…say again?”

  “Not that kind of junkie. When I was a kid, I didn’t have the best role models. But for a few years I was in a good home, and Henry, my foster guardian, was huge into racing. He noticed me always hanging around when he watched races or worked on his many muscle cars in the garage. One day, he asked if I wanted to learn. In the two years I was with him, he taught me everything about cars. We’d spend the time he wasn’t at work watching all things NASCAR, and he taught me the terminology so I understood the dynamics. By the time I finally got behind the wheel of my first racecar, it was so natural, it felt like I’d been racing for years.”