“Want a shot?” Dylan offered, but I declined with a grimace.
“I’ll take another shot,” Dawn said taking the bottle. She chugged down an ounce of the clear liquid until I forced it out of her hands.
“I think you’ve had enough,” I snapped.
Dawn’s breath stank of cheap Vodka, her eyes bloodshot, and she was acting like a giggly drunken idiot.
“Quit being such a lame-ass!”
I choked back my pride instead of saying something I might regret. Dawn was drunk—and drunk people said stupid shit without thinking or considering other people’s feelings. I was so ready to get this race over with and go home. Looking down at my watch, I saw it was a quarter until midnight. I growled.
A loud buzzing sound caught my attention, the crowd parted like the red sea to make way for the racers. Julian and I stepped onto the sidewalk as I watched Milo take his place by the rest of the competition. He must have sensed me staring because he turned his gaze in my direction and winked at me with sly confidence. Even from far away, Milo had a way to make me feel uncomfortable. Scarlet positioned herself in the middle of the road with a red flag in hand. Skinny took his place next to her.
“All pinks come forward!” Skinny announced.
Four girls walked out of the crowd and onto a platform next to the racers. Sweat broke out all over as dread vibrated inside me. That’s when the meaning of the word Pink hit me like a pile of bricks. They weren’t racing for cars. They were racing for girls. We were the Pinks.
“Ah shit, I think I just screwed up big time!” I told Julian.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re racing for girls.”
“So?”
“I just subconsciously entered myself into the bet,” I said biting my nails. I paced back-and-forth.
Julian gazed in the direction where the Pinks were standing—all waiting eagerly and eyeing the racers flirtatiously. Julian arched an eyebrow once he realized what I was talking about.
“Oh,” Julian said.
I held my breath when Scarlet raised the flag in the air causing a ripple of cheers from the crowd to echo throughout The Underground. The surge of energy sent goosebumps down my arms. She waited there for what seemed like forever. The anticipation was killing me. Even though I hated the idea of gambling, I had to admit it was pretty exciting.
I continued to hold my breath when the flag dropped. The racers floored it and took-off causing the crowd to go wild with excitement.
Milo and Alva left the competition behind with only the wake of their dust as they sped past us. I grabbed Julian’s hand squeezing it as hard as I could. They sped further down the street toward a dead end—a hard concrete wall with no exit, but neither of them held back.
“Oh my god!” I turned to Julian. “They’re going to crash!”
Just as they reached the dead end, Milo’s wings extended like a parachute and he glided around a concrete column with no effort then raced back toward the finish line. The crowd cheered at the spectacle. When Alva drifted around the column a pair of black wings extracted from her back.
Alva’s an angel? My eyes went wide with shock.
The buff angel fishtailed around the column, his wings extracted, but something went wrong. His right wing snapped back and bent in half forcing him to fall off the bike. The angel groaned in pain as his wings convulsed uncontrollably. The motorcycle skidded across the racetrack and Trent passed him as a group of quill lovers rushed to his side.
Gunning the engine, Alva pulled ahead of Milo. My body jumped in pure frenzy. I was going to win!
With one swift move of the handlebars, Milo cranked up speed popping a wheelie on his bike and blew past the finish line. My happiness vanished just as quickly as it appeared. And just like that, it was over. All the color drained off my face. It suddenly felt like someone stabbed me with an ice-cold knife in the back.
The crowd flocked to Milo and congratulated him for his win. On the verge of tears, I choked back a tight knot that formed in my throat. How could I have been so stupid to gamble away my money? Hadn’t I learned anything from my dad? I glanced over to the finish line where Milo met my gaze with a sense of ownership.
I huffed, crushed over my loss, and fuming over Milo’s annoying confidence. I dug myself knee-deep in a hole I might not be able to get out of. And to make matters worse, I only had a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket. Maybe I could leave an IOU while I went home to pick up some cash?
I glanced away from Milo and over to Skinny who was collecting money from those who lost the race. He was big and bulky—the type of person who would love nothing more than to break my bones. Looking down at my fingers, I admired every single line and imperfection— I loved my fingers, I didn’t want to lose them. I sighed. God, I watch too many movies.
When I saw Skinny heading in my direction, I dragged Julian by the shoulder toward the exit.
“We have to get out of here.”
CHAPTER
13
It was Tuesday morning. My alarm had gone off thirty minutes ago, but I was still glued to my bed staring blankly at the ceiling. I spent the night replaying my loss over and over in my head which only sunk me further into a depression. And to make matters worse, I left The Underground without paying.
The possible repercussions of my actions weighed heavily on my mind. Images of Skinny banging on the front door with a crew of thugs flooded my thoughts—Isaac getting caught up in the mix, kneecaps breaking—I shuddered at the thought, buried my head in my pillow and screamed.
There was a knock on my door, but I didn’t answer. Isaac walked in with a tray full of Eggo waffles and orange juice.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Just ‘cause,” he said placing the tray on the bed.
“That’s sweet.” I nodded taking a bite from a waffle. “How much?”
Isaac never did anything without an ulterior motive. He probably heard when I came home late last night.
“I don’t want anything,” he said. “I heard you crying last night.”
“I wasn’t cry—” I cut myself off, who was I kidding? I couldn’t sleep because I was paranoid. So, I cried. I cried like a little bitch until I put my big girl panties on and spent the rest of the night color coordinating my closet; it’s never been so organized in my life.
“Have you been waxing your ears? You have good hearing if you heard me from your room.” Isaac’s room was on the west wing of the house. Mine was all the way in the back, the only bedroom on the second floor above a bonus room Paul used to store his Army junk.
Isaac stuck one finger into his ear to check for wax and smelled it. “Not really.”
“You’re disgusting.” I wrinkled my nose. “Get out of my room, brat!” I pushed Isaac out the door.
After taking a quick shower, I threw on a pair of jeans and black hoodie, headed downstairs, knocked on my mother’s door a few times, but there was no answer. I was hoping to catch her before she fell asleep. Cracking the door open, I found her on her knees in deep prayer—she was praying to that thing she kept in the closet.
I knocked on the door again—a little louder this time, until she repeatedly blinked as if she were coming out of a trance. When she saw me by the door, her expression turned sour.
“You know I hate when you interrupt me.”
“I need a ride to school. I’m late.”
“What’s wrong with your car this time?” she asked.
“Uh—” I said in thought. “The alternator. It will take a couple days to have it fixed.”
“Your car is a piece of junk,” she said as she stood up. “You should think about getting a new one.”
Her words stung a little even though I’d grown accustomed to her negative comments. If only she knew the real truth behind the ‘Stang’s constant repairs, she’d stop nagging me.
“A car from the dealership would be nice,” I replied with a smile.
She snorted as she reached for her coat.
“I don’t own a car from a dealership. What makes you think I’ll get you one?”
It was true. Every car my mother had ever owned— including mine—was purchased from one of those ‘Buy Here, Pay Here’ auto lots where the cars had many defects, and the interest rates were through the roof if you had crappy credit. But when you’re practically a single mother, you really didn’t have much of a choice.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
Five minutes later, we drove through downtown Dixon. I stuck a hand out the window allowing the cool morning breeze flow through my fingers. I admired every muscle on my hand flexing with every move, but my bliss was shattered when a black SUV suddenly appeared behind us.
I sat up straight. It was probably an unmarked police officer. That thought quickly changed when the SUV accelerated until it was right on our tail.
Gripping the door handle, I looked over at my mother who was mind-deep in the radio broadcast. The SUV cut to our left and tried to blow past us. We were neck-in-neck with the vehicle. I couldn’t make out the person through the pitch-black windows.
Then I remembered the money I owed for last night’s race. I sunk low into my seat clutching my seatbelt. I had a feeling whoever was behind the wheel was trying to run us off the road.
“Mom we need to stop.”
“Stop?” she asked shooting me a look like I’d gone out of my mind. “Why?”
I tried to come up with the best plausible excuse without sounding crazy. “I need to vomit!”
The black SUV veered toward us. I yanked the steering wheel to my right; the Expedition ran over the sidewalk. My mother slammed on the brakes I almost choked on my seatbelt. The black SUV sped down Main street until it disappeared.
“Have you lost your mind?” she screamed.
My mother exited the Expedition and groaned. The passenger tire was flat. My jaw trembled, unable to speak. The black SUV was headed toward us, right? I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe my mother was right, I’d lost my mind.
After calling a tow truck and getting lectured by my mother, I finally made it to school right before lunch. By seventh period, I found myself distracted and paranoid. I kept glancing out the window waiting for Skinny’s thugs to show up and drag me out of school. I thought about faking being sick and going home, but I had plans to digitize the developed film for El Rey del Desmadre after school, so I decided to tough it out and wait.
Turning to the window, a tall man wearing a dark hoodie stepped out of a parked car. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my skin prickled, as he waltzed toward the school. Sweat began to build up at the base of my skull.
Calm down. It’s nothing. It’s your mind playing tricks on you. I told myself.
I almost jumped out of my seat when the classroom phone rang. My English Lit teacher answered in a whisper and eyed me with suspicion. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something felt wrong. Sensing my paranoia rush to the surface, I grabbed my backpack and stormed out of class before the last bell rang.
I rushed down the empty hallway heading toward the AV room, and right down the hall, I saw the man in a hoodie, his face obscured, come to a stop at the sight of me. Backing away slowly, I turned around and headed back toward my classroom. Behind me, the pounding footsteps grew closer.
The shrill of the last bell sent me running as students poured out into the hallways. Losing myself in the crowd, I pushed through the art room door, and halfway through, I saw Milo leaning against a bar stool. My heart almost jumped out of my chest.
“Wha…what are you doing here?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Milo came to collect a bet.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said in his usual nonchalant voice.
BS, I thought. I stuck my head out the door, scanned the hallway, but the man in the hoodie had vanished. My mother was right; I’d lost my mind.
“You live in Atlanta forty miles away, and you just happened to be in Dixon?” I asked, arms crossed. “You know stalking is illegal, right?” I found myself repeating the exact same words spoken by Dylan the night we followed them out of Eve’s Paradise.
“Oh, come on, you didn’t miss me?”
“What’s there to miss?”
“You see, that’s what I like about you—” he strolled around the room picking up random objects from the desks—“you’re upfront. Unlike many other girls.”
“Like Scarlet?”
“Are you jealous?” Milo’s lips rose to a smile.
I scoffed. “Of course not.”
My eyes followed Milo as he continued his stroll around the room.
“You can tell Skinny I’ll have his money later on today.” I told Milo.
“You don’t have to worry about that. Your debt has been paid.”
“Paid?” I asked. “How?”
One side of Milo’s lip curled up, and his eyes sparkled with playfulness. He paid my debt, which meant I owed him more than the stupid bet.
“I will pay you back.” I promised. “Every cent.”
“Keep it,” Milo replied. “I don’t want your money.”
“Then what do you want?” I asked, chills raced up my spine.
He answered with a wicked smile and a stare that could break a million hearts. My legs suddenly felt very warm, my knees turned to Jell-O. I let out a nervous laugh.
“So, have you found your subject?” Milo asked, abruptly.
“Subject?” My mind still lingering over Milo’s intentions.
“For your assignment?”
“How did you know about that?” I blinked at him, shaken. How did he know about my project? The paranoia inside was beginning to kick in again. All those times I felt someone watching me—what if Milo was stalking me?
“It’s on the board,” he answered.
I felt like an idiot. Right behind Milo, Mrs. Mercury had the assignment information on the whiteboard written in bold red letters.
I brushed a hand through my hair. “Not yet.”
Milo’s eyes scanned the room. He walked over to the vase Mrs. Mercury had us draw last week then removed it. I watched him curiously as he took his leather jacket off. Then his shirt. My mouth fell open at the sight of his inhumanly chiseled rock-hard abs. You’ve got to be kidding me. Not only are they freaking gorgeous, but have bodies to match? It wasn’t fair. Angel or not, no one should be so perfect.
The room suddenly became very hot. My stomach churned with nerves. For some strange reason, the sight of Milo semi-nude awakened something deep inside I never knew existed. Something I’d never felt with anyone else before.
“Draw me.”
“Right here? Right now?”
“Would you prefer we go somewhere more…private?”
I blushed.
“No. It’s just—” I cut off when Milo took his pants off exposing his black boxer briefs. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you need.” He stared at me with his dark, seductive eyes as he dropped his underwear. “A nude model.”
“Oh my god!” Shock and horror ripped through my senses as I quickly turned around and tried to process what I saw—a glimpse of him—all of him.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” I could hear a tiny hint of laughter in the tone of his voice. Milo loved making me feel uncomfortable.
“You’re naked!” I shrieked.
“I’m fully aware,” he replied. “Are you going to keep me waiting all day long? Or would you prefer a different position?”
I wanted to leave. I wanted to run home, curl under my covers and wipe this day out of my mind. I felt intimidated by Milo’s confidence and his unique ability to mess with my head, but leaving would imply I was weak—a girl who couldn’t handle a little nudity. And there was no way in hell I was backing down.
Taking a deep breath—my heart racing at a hundred miles per hour—I turned toward my desk and smacked right into the easel. I heard Milo chuckle softly as I held on tightly to the sketch pad in front of me refusing to let it go. I didn’t want to
risk another glimpse of Milo’s body parts.
Focus. I needed to focus. My hands trembled as I dug through my desk for my charcoals. I tried to act calm and unaware of Milo’s nude body, but it was too hard. This was my first glimpse of a naked guy—a very hot naked guy—something I seriously thought wasn’t going to happen for another ten years, but yet here he was in all his tan glory.
“You’ve never seen anyone naked before.” He sounded stunned like it was a new revelation to him.
I hesitated before answering. “That’s none of your business.”
Another chuckle. “I’m glad I’m your first.”
It was apparent from the sexual undertone in his comments, Milo was after something more than just a date, more than I was willing to give; the main reason Eddie cheated but never got.
I rubbed the promise ring my dad gave me when I was eight. He always told me self-respect was far more important than a brief physical fling. ‘A boy will go as far as you let him. If you’re not ready and if he can’t wait, he’s not the guy for you,’ he’d say. So I kept it under wraps. The ring was a reminder to remain pure—at least in body anyway, because right now my thoughts were bordering on the sinful side.
Trying my best to ignore him, I focused on my drawing. Once Milo settled into a pose, my discomfort slowly vanished, and I began to sketch his face, his eyes, his…lips. I couldn’t observe him as closely as I’d like, the way I did with other models who were fully clothed, so I improvised, allowing the sketch to flow in the direction of my memory. Anytime I took a peek at him though, I had to be very careful not to stray south.
“How long have you lived in Dixon?” Milo asked breaking the silence.
“We’re getting up close and personal now?”
“Normally before I undress in front of a girl,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “I like to get to know her better. I don’t get undressed just for anyone, you know.”
I scoffed a little too loudly.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Nope.”
“So you think you’ve got me figured out?”
“Yeah. I know how guys like you operate,” I answered, sketching furiously. “You’re the type who whispers sweet nothings into a girl’s ear—anything really—to get them into your bed.”
THE TRAGIC + DIVINE, Book 1 Page 11