Third Wheel (Elton Hall Chronicles Book 3)

by Sarah Fischer

“So, anyway, um, on to some more fun things. Will you be one of my bridesmaids?” I asked, hoping she’d agree. I needed someone on my side, since I decided I was going to have to deal with this.

  She jumped off the bed and hugged me tight. “Absolutely, this is going to be so much fun.” Then Annabelle’s face turned solemn and she looked me straight in the eyes. “Promise me this is what you want. I can’t do this if your heart isn’t in it.”

  I grabbed my purse and pulled out my list. “My heart is in this. I made this list of all the things I want to do before I settle down. When I’m done with this, I will be ready for the big white wedding my mother has already planned in her head.”

  “Seriously, the sex one?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, trying to play innocent. “We’re on a break,” I insisted, feeling a bit like Ross from Friends.

  “The movie one sounds fun, we should do this next weekend. We can wear yoga pants, baggy shirts, put our hair up in messy buns, and eat food that’s going to be so greasy, we’re going to break out.”

  “Yes. All the yes!”

  “Great, now, if I’m going to be a bridesmaid, we’re going to need more magazines and definitely some junk food. This one magazine doesn’t give us enough choices to even attempt to make a list.” She grabbed her keys and we headed to the store.

  We spent the next several days poring over bride magazines. Well, Annabelle pored over them, I nodded politely when appropriate. I just hadn’t found my ideal wedding theme, colors, or dress style. There were so many choices, and it just seemed like every time I found something that looked great, I’d flip the page and be enamored by something else. What happened to a good old fashioned church wedding with a nice reception afterwards? I mean, obviously everything would be covered in crystals, but I don’t think I wanted a giant scene. More like a group of fifty or sixty people I loved and some really good food.

  On the bright side, my classes were doing a good job at distracting me. Accounting was not as simple as it sounded, and I was not impressed with the professor. But my marketing class was going quite well. It made me think that I’d actually like to find something like this to do. Maybe one of the charities at whatever country club we joined would need some promoting. I liked the idea more and more. But Saturday finally rolled around, and there was a skip in my step for a whole other reason. Tonight, I’d be going to see Shane street race, and I didn’t know what to expect. All I knew was that it would be a whole new world for me, and I was desperate for the adrenaline rush.

  I told my parents that I wasn’t feeling good after dinner and went to my room. Mom checked on me once and then I was good to go. She and Dad would start their nightly routine and that didn’t involve me.

  I plugged my curlers in and quickly put my make-up on. But clothes-wise, I had no idea what to wear. I spent the day watching racing movies and a couple episodes of a street racing show to get an idea of what to expect. In it, the girls were all wearing outfits that didn’t appear to fit anywhere. The shirts were too tight, the skirts too short, and the heels too high. I walked into my closet and realized I was far too preppy for that world, so I’d have to make something work.

  I had a mini skirt that I’d worn with a Halloween costume once. It was faux leather, also known as plastic, and too short. Slipping it on over my narrow hips, it looked perfect. I added some black panties in case the skirt was a little too short, so at least I’d match. Then I grabbed one of my red lace bralettes, and a white tank top. I topped the look off with a pair of black heeled boots. Looking in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think of Vivian from Pretty Woman. I think it was the boots.

  I closed my closet door so I wouldn’t second guess myself by staring in the mirror. Shane was due to pick me up any minute now. He’d texted me earlier, saying he’d get me at nine-thirty, but I had to figure out how to get out of the house. I walked over to my bed and tripped, falling onto the chair next to it. The sweatpants I had on earlier had fallen on the floor and blocked my path. But looking at them now, I had a whole new idea. I slipped the pants on over my skirt, slipped some sneakers on, and then pulled a sweatshirt over my head, making sure the hood was up so my mom wouldn’t notice my hair. Then I grabbed one of my big bags and tossed my boots in it.

  “Mom,” I called down the hall from the laundry room. “Annabelle and Jason got in a big fight. I’m gonna go check on her. I know I don’t feel well, but she’s been so good to me with this wedding planning that I think it’s only fair I check on her. She’s picking me up in a few minutes.” I held my breath, hoping she bought my story.

  “Aw, you’re such a good friend. Send her my love. Oh, and there are some extra cookies in the tin. Why don’t you bring those?”

  “I will,” I called, forcing the guilt from my mind. I grabbed my purse from off the side table and took my wallet, keys, and lipstick out and placed them in my bag with my boots before walking outside.

  As if on cue, Shane pulled up with his deafening motor, sexy race car, and mischievous grin. “You look comfy,” he teased as he rolled the window down, giving me a once over.

  “Shut up, I just needed a way to get out of the house. Drive down the street a minute and then stop so I can change.” I climbed into the passenger seat and he revved the engine. I felt a small rush of adrenaline fly through me. Hopefully it was just the beginning.

  Shane was silent as he made a quick U-turn and made his way down a couple side streets.

  “Okay, this is good,” I told him and climbed out of the car and slid my sweatpants off slowly, giving Shane a bit of a show.

  “Wait, what are you wearing?” he asked, rolling the window down.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I slipped my sweatshirt over my head and shook my hair out.

  “Not a damn thing. Your ass looks great in that skirt.”

  “So what’s the issue?” I asked, getting back into the car and putting my boots on.

  “You just can’t show up there like that. No one dresses like that in real life. You’ve been watching too many movies.”

  “Well, it’s not like I can sneak back into my house, so I’m wearing this.”

  “I have a better idea.” Shane leaned over and pulled my sweatpants out of the bag. “Come on, let’s get out of the car.” He opened his door and I quickly followed. “Take the skirt off.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him and shook my head. “You just want to see me in my underwear.”

  “Yes…yes, I do. But if you show up there dressed like this, no one will take either of us seriously, and this is important to me.” He held the sweatpants out and I reluctantly took them.

  “Fine, but turn around.” I stood still, waiting for him to cover his eyes or spin around.

  “Not a chance in hell.” Shane crossed his arms and stared at me, as if challenging me.

  “I could just put the sweatpants on over the skirt,” I reminded him.

  “You could, but if you were going to do that, you would’ve done it already.”

  Rolling my eyes, I unzipped the skirt and slid it off, twirling in a circle so he could admire the ass I worked so hard for three times a week doing aerobics.

  “You do realize that I’m going crazy here, right? Maybe you can wear that skirt again for me later?”

  I pulled the sweatpants up and over my underwear, and picked the skirt up off the ground. I walked up to Shane and whispered in his ear. “Only if you win, and even then, I’m not promising anything.”

  “Oh, I’ll win, don’t you worry about that. Worry about what I’m going to do to you the next time you show up in an outfit like that. Let’s just say restraint isn’t one of my better qualities.” He clicked his tongue and looked me over again. “You still manage to look sexy,” he said, and rolled the top of my sweatpants so they weren’t dragging on the ground. His fingers grazed my bare skin and little shots of electricity shot through me.

  “Are we going to stand here teasing each other, or are you going to race?” I asked when he didn’t move straig
ht away.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He slapped my ass and opened my car door for me. “After you.”

  Shane walked around to the other side of the car and started the engine.

  Chapter 5

  “So, the races are pretty simple. All the drivers show up and call someone out. There is a race commissioner who is basically in charge of all the races. He won’t let the same one guy call out the same driver week after week. We like to keep it a little fair.”

  “Okay, so how do they keep score of who is the best?”

  “The commissioner has a sort of assistant for that, but really it’s not hard to do. We just keep track of who has the best racing record.” He reached his hand out and stroked my thigh gently. “Right now, that person is me. I hold the title as top racer in this area. Last year I only lost one race, and that was due to a mechanical error. Just shitty luck.”

  I looked over at him and couldn’t help but notice the beam in his eyes as he said this. “You said you didn’t need a good luck charm? If you’d had one, maybe you wouldn’t have screwed up.”

  “No, I said I didn’t need you to be my good luck charm. I’m Korean. We’re crazy superstitious.” He reached into his black shirt and pulled out a gold necklace with a rectangular gold talisman hanging from it. There was all kinds of red swirls and lines everywhere. “This is my good luck charm.”

  “What’s it say on it?”

  “It’s just a protection prayer. My grandma sent it from South Korea when I was born. I never used to wear it, mostly because I’ve never even met my grandma, but so much crap happens at races, I just started wearing it, and the one time I lost is the one time I didn’t wear it.”

  “That’s a crazy coincidence.” I decided not to ask him about his grandma. I wanted to, and it almost came out, but I didn’t want to turn the mood sour. But I did notice a bit of sadness in his eyes when he mentioned her.

  “I told you, I’m superstitious. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Okay, what else are you superstitious about? Do you hold your breath when you go past a graveyard, or do you have the number seven tattooed on your ass?” I wasn’t the least bit superstitious, and this really threw me off guard. But then again, I’d been around Violet long enough to know that she had her own ridiculous superstitions, like holding her breath when she drives over a bridge. Come to think of it, a lot of these superstitions seemed to involve holding your breath.

  “Seven isn’t a big deal for us. The number four, we don’t touch. That’s worse than the number thirteen. If they sign me up to race fourth, I’d flat out refuse. It’s just a bad sign.”

  “Well, what happens if you refuse? Isn’t that like losing a race?” I asked, noticing that there were goosebumps up his arm even as he discussed talking about the possibility of racing fourth.

  “Nah, you can chose to wait until next week when a new line up is created. But then if you refuse, it counts as a loss. I never worry too much about that, though. I have an in with the commissioner, so he never sets me up fourth.” He turned to me and flashed that wicked grin.

  “What, do you bribe him? Maybe flash a little leg in his direction?” I didn’t like the idea of cheating. It kind of took all the excitement out of the race. Why watch him if I knew he was going to win?

  “No, nothing like that. I’ve just known him a while. He likes a good race, and he knows if he puts me fourth, he won’t get it. So he just puts me in another slot because I’m pretty much a guaranteed good race.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I guess we’ll see,” I responded as we pulled up to a row of cars in an open field. “Are we here?”

  “Yeah, that’s where the spectators park,” Shane told me, pointing to the field. “A true racer would never leave his car in a field like that, so we park over here.” He pulled in next to a couple cars that were parked on the shoulder of the road. Their front ends stuck out a little, since they were parked perpendicular to the street, but this was a wide road, and Shane insisted that they only ever used the middle two lanes to race.

  “I can’t believe they just shut down a whole strip of road for you,” I marveled, looking at the half mile track where no other cars were driving.

  “Oh, they don’t. But we have guys on either side, about a half mile out that put up fake construction signs to reroute people and warn us if the police are coming. This is highly illegal.”

  “If I get thrown in jail and end up someone’s bitch, I will come after you,” I warned him, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him close.

  “You’re sexy when you’re serious. But don’t worry, I won’t let anyone else touch that sweet ass.” He leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek, and then climbed out of the car.

  I rolled my eyes and went to open my door, however, Shane was already there, extending a hand to help me out. “Stop pretending you’re a gentleman,” I teased as I took his hand and got out of the car.

  “Fine.” Shane pushed me against the car and kissed me fiercely. His hand slid down my back and played with the sliver of exposed skin between my shirt and my rolled up sweat pants. With the other hand, he tangled it into my hair, pulling just enough to keep my attention on only him.

  “Shane, are you gonna do her now, or wait until after you lose and you need a pick me up?” someone shouted, bringing us back to reality.

  “At least I didn’t have to pay her to come. Heather, how much did Chuck give you this time?” he shouted at a couple about three cars down. Apparently, Chuck wasn’t amused and flipped Shane the bird. Heather pursed her lips, but a smile managed to escape as Chuck pulled her away from the cars.

  “I take it he called you out,” I said, as I watched them walk away.

  “He hasn’t yet, but there’s a pretty good chance he will. Chuck had the second best record last year. Rumor has it that he’s been busting his ass to pay for all new parts. I heard that he didn’t propose to Heather this year because he didn’t want to spend the extra money on a ring,” Shane told me and slid an arm around my neck.

  “How long have they been together?”

  “Um, I don’t really know. I’ve been racing here for three years, and they’ve been here since then. So at least three years.”

  “I’d cut him. Spending my engagement ring money on car parts. What a jerk move.”

  “Don’t worry, babe, I win enough money to do both.” He slapped my ass as we walked up to a group of people.

  Chuck and Heather were there, along with three other guys, and one badass looking chick. She had long, fuchsia hair tied into a tight braid that almost touched her elbows. Her black tank top sat firmly above the serpent belly button ring that shown in the moonlight. She had on tight black leather pants and a pair of sky high black boots that went up over her knees. I didn’t know who she was, but part of me wanted to go shopping with her.

  Shane introduced me to everyone, and the girl, Emma, smiled through her purple lipstick at me and pulled me into a hug.

  “I’m a hugger,” she explained in my ear as she gave me a tight squeeze.

  “I’m not, but I’ll make an exception for you because of those boots. I want them in like four colors, some with fringe, and maybe a suede pair.”

  She laughed and looked me over, and I was a little embarrassed. I really didn’t think it was possible to feel under dressed at a street race, but then again, I would’ve felt a little ridiculous in my tiny skirt. “Thanks. I change to sneakers to race, but I just get a boost of confidence when I wear these babies.”

  “Oh, you race?” I was a little surprised. I thought she was someone’s girlfriend. Maybe I should get my mind out of the 18th century.

  “Yeah,” she said, and pointed to a bright red car. “That’s my Camaro over there. I was ranked third last year, so I’m hoping Betsy and I can make a dent and hit number one.”

  “Betsy? Why did you name her that?”

  “That’s what my grandmother said when she saw the car. ‘Oh, heavens to Betsy.’ She’s again
st me racing, but supports me anyway, so it’s like a little tribute to her.”

  I was about to respond, but some guy was calling everyone over. He was about two hundred pounds and it all looked to be muscle. This was definitely not the kind of guy I wanted to mess with, but then a tiny guy came walking up behind him. The big guy stepped to the side and the other guy stood front and center. He must have been one hundred and ten pounds soaking wet and maybe an inch or two taller than my five four. Him, I could take.

  “So, that’s enough chit chat and catching up. I’ll be by my van for the next twenty minutes taking call outs. You can call out whoever you want, but that doesn’t mean I’ll set up a race for you. I want to see good, competitive races, so try not to take on someone who will cross the finish line as you leave the starting line.” He waited a beat for some kind of argument, but none came. Instead, he and the muscle man walked over to a van that looked straight out of Scooby Doo, and opened the door.

  Shane took my hand and we made our way over to his “office.” Inside the back of the van, the commissioner had statistics on what looked like at least ten different racers and their cars. There were car manuals, a couple of those red gas containers, and a crap ton of tools. Plus, he had set up the car bench so that it faced out toward the street and looked like a little cubicle. It was a moving racing office and I loved it.

  The muscle man stood next to the car, arms crossed, and collected money.

  “Do you pay to race?” I asked Shane.

  “Sort of. You have to bet something to race. We don’t do it for free. So, I’m gonna call out Newbie Troy over there,” he explained, pointing to a skinny looking kid, maybe our age or younger. “He started racing last year, but rumor around the garages says that his car is no joke, so I want to test it out. It’s our first race, so I’m gonna put down five hundred dollars on it. If Newbie Troy accepts the call out, then he puts his own five hundred down. If not, Frank keeps the money and I can either use it as money to accept a call out, or I can ask for it back at the end of the night if I didn’t race.”