by Marta Brown
Chapter 25
Lane
“I’m so sorry,” Ashley whispers, tears streaking her face, before she runs down the stairs, leaving me in the middle of her living room standing slack jawed at what just transpired.
Andrew claps his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, man, what do you say we get outta here?”
I turn towards the stairs. “I should go talk to Ash, make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah, you may want to do that later,” Andrew says, glancing in his father’s direction. One look at Mr. Whitmore’s face and I know Andrew’s right. Ashley and I can talk when everyone’s calmed down.
I nod. “Good idea.”
“Dude. Can you believe my little sister just laid out that whole room?” Andrew laughs walking to my car. The cool night is a welcome relief from the stuffy room we just left, but the thought of Ashley upset tightens my chest, making it difficult to take in a deep breath of the fresh air. “Hey, why don’t we go blow off some steam for a little bit? Ashley will call soon, I’m sure,” Andrew says as I eye my phone. “I heard there’s a party at the bluffs tonight. Let’s go, chill out, and this won’t seem like such a big deal in an hour or two. I swear.”
I let out a sigh then shove my phone in my pocket. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I hope.
There are a few people scattered around the bluffs when we arrive, but definitely not a party. Andrew and I lean against the back of my car watching the clusters of people come and go until the bluffs are officially empty except for us.
“Wild and crazy party,” I joke. “We might want to keep it down before someone calls the cops and I get arrested again.”
“Total bust,” Andrew says, tossing the twig he’s been fiddling with to the ground. “We could head to the beach? See if there’s a bonfire?”
I ignore Andrew’s suggestion and pull out my phone; I’ve waited long enough for everyone to calm down. I want to talk to my girl. I dial Ashley and let the call ring over and over until her voicemail finally picks up. I jam the phone back in my pocket. She’s either still talking to her parents, or she’s grounded. Again.
“Damn.” I kick the dirt, sending up a small cloud of dust. “All Ashley was trying to do was help, and now she’s probably in even more trouble because of me, and I’m not anywhere closer to Yale. Talk about a bust.”
“I’ve never seen her so upset, but she really did believe Richard was going to help, so I don’t blame her,” Andrew says. “That was a serious dick move.”
“You got that right.” I fiddle with my keys, thinking about how sad Ashley looked right before she disappeared down the stairs and wishing I would have followed her. “Dude, you mind if I run you home? I think I’m gonna call it a night,” I tell Andrew, done with it all.
“Yeah, that’s cool. And hey, Lane, I’m sorry about the whole school thing. I kinda feel responsible you’re in this mess in the first place.”
I scrunch my brows. “How’s that?”
Andrew stares at the ground for a second before looking back up at me. “I mean, I was the one who proposed that bet, then practically forced you to race by shoving money at you.”
I shake my head. “Nah, dude, I could’ve said no. I wanted to beat him, embarrass him and all,” I say sheepishly because winning the money was a tempting lure, but I really just wanted to show him up in front of Ashley. Childish, I know.
“Thanks, Lane. For being so cool.” Andrew says, and I can tell he’s being genuine. “I can’t resist a good bet, you know?” He smiles. “And the look on Greg’s face when you beat him was totally priceless.”
“Yeah, it was,” I agree with a laugh.
“And speak of the devil…” Andrew stares over my shoulder.
“Seriously?” I say as Gregory pulls up alongside us. You’ve got to be kidding me. Can this night get any worse?
“Hey, ladies, you two up here all by yourselves to make out?” Gregory says, stepping out of his car with a grin on his face, acting like we’re old friends. Is this guy delusional?
“Come up here to make out with yourself?” Andrew jokes back, but there’s more than just an undertone of annoyance in his voice, there is clear disdain.
“Funny, but no. I was actually hoping I’d find you here,” he says, eyeing me. I can feel my fists clench. What’s it gonna take to shake this guy?
“What do you want, Gregory?” I ask annoyed.
“What I’ve wanted from the get go,” he says, swinging his key ring around his index finger casually. “Ashley.”
He clearly is delusional and his confidence makes me laugh. “Ashley? And how do you think you’re gonna manage that?”
“Simple. Another bet,” he answers without a hint of irony.
“What do you mean, another bet?” I ask skeptically.
“Well, it’s my understanding,” Gregory smirks, “you just asked my father for help with a financial problem you’re facing, and everyone should be entitled to an education, so I’m here to solve both our problems.”
I roll my eyes. “The only problem I have right now is you,” I say aggravated that he’s toying with me, rubbing my failure in my face and making it a game. “Get to the point.”
“Fine. Fine,” he says, waving away my irritation. “I bet you another race. From here, past the fork, and out to Stonewall pond.”
“What? Getting beat once wasn’t enough for you?” I laugh, dismissing his offer as I walk away, then like a puzzle piece falling into place, it all clicks. I spin and face him. “Wait. You want me to bet Ashley?” I ask incredulously.
“Precisely.”
I shake my head. So much for Ashley’s theory that Greg is over her. “You’ve lost your mind,” I say, turning away again.
“We’ll see.” I hear him say smugly. “Don’t you want to hear the terms of the bet?” he asks, then continues when I don’t respond. “If you win, I’ll give you a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Surely that’s enough to cover the cost of school.”
I stop in my tracks then slowly turn and face him. “And if you win?”
“I get Ashley,” he says simply, like she’s a commodity to be traded on an open exchange. “You in?”
I can hardly wrap my mind around what he’s saying, making it hard to think clearly. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars? That kind of money would almost cover all four years of school. I wouldn’t have to burden my family, or go into debt. I’d be able to go to Yale. Realize my dream.
It’s the easiest decision I’ve ever had to make.
“No.”
“No?” he repeats in disbelief.
“Not a chance. Ashley’s the love of my life and you’re a fool if you think any amount of money would ever make me choose it over her.”
Gregory takes a step forward, his jaw tight and his eyes wide. “You would turn down an ivy league education, practically paid in full, to keep dating a girl who’s just using you to make her mommy and daddy mad?” Gregory says, trying to bait me, irritated he’s not getting his way. “You really should reconsider.”
“Never,” I say without a second thought. In his world, money might buy everything, but it can’t buy me. I wouldn’t trade Ashley for anything in the world, not even Yale.
“But—” Gregory starts, before being cut off by Andrew.
“I’ll take the bet.”
I whip my head around and stare at Andrew. “You what?”
“I’ll take the bet,” Andrew says flat out. “But I have different terms.”
“I’m not going to race you,” Gregory says. “You can’t give me what I want anyway.”
“Ashley?” Andrew raises his brows. “Dude, that’s never going to happen, no matter who you race, win or lose, my sister’s in love with Lane, you have to accept that.”
“She’ll come to her senses sooner or later. Lane can’t take care of her the way I can,” Gregory scoffs.
“Besides being an ass, that’s exactly why she’d never be with you. She doesn’t need someone to take care of her. She’s s
trong, independent, and brave and she can take care of herself. Jerk,” I say proud of my girl.
“Dude, I’m so tired of this,” Andrew says, throwing his hands in the air, clearly frustrated. “Five hundred grand. That’s my bet.”
“Andrew,” I snap, my jaw as tight as my fists. This is way past out of hand. “Drop this.”
“No. The only thing that matters to him is money.” He levels Gregory with his eyes. “So let’s do this. I bet you five hundred thousand dollars. Are you in?”
“And if you win?” Gregory asks, clarifying the terms, a glimmer of excitement and greed in his eyes.
“You leave my sister and Lane alone. No more fighting, no more rude remarks at their expense, and no more stupid bets. Nothing. It’s over and you move on. Got it?”
Gregory takes a long look at his car then turns back to Andrew with a smirk. “Deal.”
I see a gleam of excitement in Andrew’s eyes now too. I pull him off to the side, just out of ear shot. “Dude, you do not need to do this. Ashley and I can deal with Gregory just fine. Don’t risk losing that kind of money. That’s insane.”
Andrew smiles. “You know as well as I do your car can smoke him. I’m more surprised he’s willing to risk the embarrassment of losing again, even for that much cash.”
“Exactly. Don’t you think that’s weird? Why would he bother?”
“Money. Plain and simple.”
I give Andrew a blank look. “But his family is loaded?”
“That’s the thing with Gregory, he wants what he can’t have. And if he has it, he wants more of it. He’s never satisfied.”
I draw in a breath and release it slowly. Andrew knows Gregory better than I do, so I’ll have to trust he knows what he’s talking about. Even though it still seems off to me. Maybe another dose of reality is just what Gregory needs because you don’t always get what you want in life. And one thing is for sure, he can’t have Ashley, and he can’t beat my car, no matter who’s driving.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
“Yes!” Andrew slaps the hood of my car, smiling.
“You sure you’re good to drive?”
“Dude, I got this,” he says, leaning against my car casually. I shake my head at how calm Andrew seems, considering he just bet half a million bucks. My palms are sweating like mad. “Seriously, Lane, I’m good, so don’t worry. When I was in Atlantic City, a bunch of us went to the track and raced Ferrari’s. I should be able to handle your car just fine.”
“Alright.” I nod.
“Anytime,” Gregory says, interrupting us, his sarcasm as obvious as his disdain for me.
“I’m more than ready,” Andrew replies as I toss him my keys.
“Let’s make this short and sweet. From here to the fork in the road,” Gregory says, trying to sound nonchalant but there’s an edge in his voice.
“Why so short now? Afraid your car won’t perform as well once you’re off the line?” I ask.
“Hardly,” Gregory says but his face tells a different story. He looks concerned.
Andrew laughs as he jumps into the driver seat of my car and begins adjusting the mirrors. “Riiight,” he taunts Gregory.
I lean in so only Andrew can hear me. “Listen, Greg’s car is fast off the line, but mine’ll build up speed quick. Last time he boxed me in, so even though I won, he has no idea I wasn’t even close to pushing the car to its limits. Let him punch it and beat you off the line.”
Andrew puts his seatbelt on then looks at me with his brows furrowed. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah. Move quick into second gear and ride it all the way to the rev limiter before shifting into third.” Andrew is zeroed in on my every word. “Hold on tight to keep control of the car when you lay on the gas and you’ll catapult past him in the last few seconds right before you reach the fork, but get into fourth gear right after you win, so my engine doesn’t burn out,” I say with a grin and a fist bump.
“Fine. From here to the fork in the road,” Andrew yells to Gregory over the sound of both cars engines now purring.
Gregory’s face relaxes with Andrew’s agreement of the terms and his confidence returns. I shove my hands in my pockets and try not to smile. I can’t wait to see Gregory’s face in a few minutes when Andrew wipes the floor with him.
The road leading from the bluffs to the fork is straight and open, and I can see clear to the finish line. I step in front of the cars ready to count them off.
“On your marks. Get set. GO!” I scream over the roar of the car engines, dropping my arms to my sides.
Gregory’s car flies off the line kicking up dirt. Andrew takes off just a fraction of a second behind Gregory as instructed. I spin around and have to wave my hand in front of my face to clear the cloud of red dust swirling all around me, obstructing my sight.
The cloud settles just in time to see Andrew shoot past Gregory, the rumble of my engine being pushed hard roars as the car crosses the invisible finish line. Andrew raises his fist in the air before I hear the sound of him shifting into fourth and then disappearing around the bend.
I jump with excitement, pumping my own fists in the air right before I hear the sound of tires squealing against the pavement, immediately followed by the sound of two loud booms, then the sickening crunch of metal and shattering glass. I look up and see in the dark sky a blackish gray cloud start to rise above the trees around the bend.
Andrew.
I take off on a dead run, my legs moving faster than I’ve ever pushed them in my life, but I still feel like I’m running in quicksand. I thrust forward until my legs are burning as badly as my lungs. They feel ready to explode if I don’t stop and take a breath, but I can’t. I keep pushing.
I pass Gregory and his car in a blur. The faint sound of him shouting fills my ears, but his words are jumbled in my frantic state. I have to get to Andrew.
I turn the corner at the fork, and my vision goes hazy. Smoke billows off my car, a crumpled mess of metal and glass, as Andrew lays slumped and unconscious in the driver seat. His face is covered in blood and flames flick out of the engine block, dangerously close to engulfing him completely.
‘Andrew,’ my mind whispers, but his name is barely discernible over the sound of screaming that’s filling my ears.
My screams. Then black.
Chapter 26
Ashley
I sit on the edge of my bed fighting to not explode again when my parents barge in.
“Ashley Elizabeth Whitmore. I cannot believe how incredibly disrespectful you were to Richard and Gregory. What in the world has gotten into you?” my father spits, the party upstairs clearly over.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I cross my arms. “What’s gotten into me?” My tone drips with frustration and my anger simmers right on the surface, raw from the pleasure Gregory and Richard had denying Lane help.
“It’s that boy,” my mother chimes in from the doorway, a wine glass in one hand while the other rests on her hip. “He’s to blame for this. Ever since you met him you’ve been a totally different daughter than the one I raised.”
“His name is Lane, Mother, and this is not his fault. None of it is,” I say, raising my voice. “When will you, and everyone else for that matter, stop blaming Lane for everything, including my behavior? It’s not his fault I finally stood up for myself, Gregory and Richard deserved what I said.”
“Young lady, I don’t care what you think they deserved. They are guests in our house and you were out of line speaking to them in that manner,” my father says sharply. “And to one of my biggest donors.”
“Oh that’s right, I’m to be seen and not heard. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of the head of your Super PAC. I’m so sick of being nothing but a campaign prop to you two. I can’t take it anymore.”
“That is ridiculous,” my mother huffs after taking a sip of her wine.
I shake my head as tears fill my eyes. “No, it’s not. I’ve always done as I was told, ‘smile nice for the reporters, supp
ort your father’s positions, wear this, do your hair like that,’ I’ve never disobeyed, afraid to be anything less than your perfect daughter. I’m exhausted. I’m not perfect. That’s what’s gotten into me,” I say, holding up a strand of my hair to emphasize my point, my wild, untamed, imperfect hair.
“Ashley,” my father starts.
“No,” I cry. “I feel like I can’t be myself because it might not poll well, or will embarrass you at the club or not line up with your goals for my life.” I pull in a shallow breath then let the truth tumble out. “Do you know I don’t even want to go to Yale? I want to dance, professionally.” I wipe a tear off my face. “But I knew you would never allow it, so I’ve never told you.”
“You, by no means, showed true interest in becoming a Prima ballerina, otherwise we would have been open to discussing that,” my mother says, actually seeming offended by my charge.
“That’s because I don’t want to be a ballerina, I want to be a contemporary dancer,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.
My mother rolls her eyes. “And you don’t think he’s pulling you down? You no longer care to get an education but would rather flit away your potential, for what? To be some bohemian starving artist? With that boy?” she asks, her lip curling around the words like they’re dirty, making my stomach pinch.
“See what I mean!” I yell. “I’ve wanted to be a dancer long before I met Lane, but yes, he’s encouraged me to follow my dreams if that’s what you mean by ‘pulling me down.’ Just admit you don’t like him because he doesn’t own waterfront property, or have a prestigious last name, or lineage like Gregory,” I accuse, my fists balled so tight my finger nails cut into my palm.
My mother looks genuinely shocked by my assertion as my father wraps his arm around her shoulders, leveling me with his eyes. “Honestly, Ashley. Lane’s means or lack thereof has nothing to do with our objection of him. You need to look at it from our perspective. He has made a number of poor choices, as have you, since you two began dating. Choices that make us question his character. The way you behaved tonight just proves our point; his influence is leading you down the wrong path. There is nothing good that can come from him being in your life or this family’s.”