His hand slides to my back and lowers to my waist. I feel my eyes hood slightly as he leans in close and whispers into my ear, “Are you sure it was the alcohol or is it the effect? Like the one I get when I see you?”
His hot breath on my neck makes me feel on fire, and when he pulls back, he’s mere inches from my lips. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Which is a good thing, because I snap out of the mini trance he seems to have put me in and remove his hand from my back. Before he can speak again, I turn on my heels and walk away.
Making it successfully back to my seat without tripping, I slide into the booth next to Gemma and plant my head into my hands and try to steady my breathing. Probably a mistake, since I’m not even sitting down next to her for thirty seconds before she says something to me.
Elbowing me in the ribs, she leans in closer to me than she already is. “I saw you talking to that Wes guy, or should I call him Green eyes and Tats?” I look up and see her wiggling her eyebrows at me. I know she’s wanting an explanation. So I might as well give it to her.
“Yeah, I’m taking your advice and giving him a chance at a friendship. He bought me a beer and we talked.”
She smiles big at me and lowers her voice so the others around won’t hear. “I can’t believe you’re doing this Marlie. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you and help you move on.”
At least she’s happy.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s a start to a possible friendship. Not a marriage.” God, the thought of that makes me shudder. “Let’s drink some more, dance, and go home.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We had more to drink. Well, I threw back a water, then had more to drink. Then we danced our asses off enjoying the night. I couldn’t help but keep looking to the bar and around to see if Wes was still around, but it seemed he’d left shortly after our drink. It was strange that I kept thinking about him, but I chalked it up from the nerves of this step I’m trying to take. Though I could have picked any man to be my friend, and I’m not voting out others, he was just there and not to mention, easy on the eyes. It just worries me. He worries me in ways I can’t figure out yet, but all I have to do is give it time and see what it is that alerts me about him.
SIX
I WOKE UP THE FOLLOWING MORNING feeling fine; no hangover for me. It’s is nice, but odd since the amount I ended up drinking was probably enough to send me to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. We all ended up back at my place for a little more to drink around three a.m. Last time I checked the clock it was six a.m. and I was waving Tom and Kelli goodbye through the living room window and then heading to bed - not waking up until noon.
Getting dressed after I take a much needed shower, I head to get a glass of water. Walking into my living room, I look around and take note of all the empty tumblers and beer bottles. I smile to myself remembering we played Drunk Twister and Heads Up. I really can’t wait to do it again. Maybe after we get back from visiting my dad and brother. Now that is something I’m really excited about. I look forward to it every year. A little something to get my mind clear and relax before my “summer job” I keep referring to starts and life gets… complicated. I finish my glass and put it in the sink. I grab a trash bag and start cleaning.
After I get the apartment back to normalcy, I head back to my room to grab my cell and call my dad for our weekly talk. Plopping onto my bed, I reach for my phone, noticing I have a few new text messages. I swipe my screen and see one from Kelli, thanking me for a great time last night. Same with Alex, and Henry and one from an unknown number sent late last night or early this morning, depending on how you view it.
Figured if I had your number, you should have mine.
From your #1 favorite stalker ;)
Ah, Wes. I almost forgot that I had given him my number last night. So now that I have his number I debate whether or not I should text back. Fuck it.
Ha-ha! Thanks. Now I feel special. From your # 1 stalkee.
Anytime… so, when would be a good time for lunch, friend?
Well that was quick.
You don’t waste time do you?
Nope, and you’ll soon see that.
Oh, will I?
Yes, now… about lunch as FRIENDS.
Monday, noon.
I’ll pick you up. See you.
See you.
I’m not sure if this is a good thing, but I can’t help but be a little excited about this. Mostly for Gemma, I tell myself. I am doing this for her, not me. But that would be a lie. I need to do this. As long as Wes knows that he and I could never be anything but friends, then this should go fine. Sure, I am extremely attracted to the guy. Who wouldn’t be? But given how my last, and only, relationship ended, no one would ever blame me for being cautious towards men.
The hard part is, if I’m being honest with myself, Wes has been on my mind since day one. I don’t think it’s just his looks either. When he looks at me, it’s like he already knows me and that’s scary as hell. But at the same time, it makes me feel comfortable. This is even scarier. I know next to nothing about this man except for a few tidbits I got out of him last night.
My heart races at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. Just like it did when I met him. Just like it did the other times I’ve seen him, or the text, but I have to keep myself in check. I have to be cautious of him. Not just because of my past, but because I can sense that he has many layers and some I don’t think I’ll like.
Being alone and socially isolating myself for the better part of the last two years has made me more perceptive of people. I’m now pretty good at judging who will screw you over and will be true.
Friends.
That’s all it can be and all I want it to be. It’s all it can ever be. I will not go through what I went through, again.
I managed to get off the phone with my dad without giving our secret; the surprise visit. I feel… happy; like I have a little pep to my step. I put on my tennis shoes, call a cab and head towards the kitchen where Gemma is cleaning the fridge. I grab my keys off the hook next to the front door, walk up right behind her and I start jingling my keys like a mad woman.
She stops and turns around. “What are you doing?” she asks.
I smile sweetly, “I’ve been thinking…”
She laughs, “Oh? That’s never good.”
“Shut it. I’ve been thinking that it’s been a while since I drove… ya’ know, for fun.”
She looks at me with a smile that reaches her eyes. “About goddamn time Marlie Edwards!” She closes the fridge and throws the dirty rag in the sink. “Give me two seconds to put my shoes on!” she says already heading to her room. I check the time to see when I had called the cab. Yep, should be here in a few.
“Ready,” Gemma says practically skipping down the hall.
WE PULL UP TO the garage where Gem and I store our cars. Our apartment is located in an area where curbside parking is for business only; no residential parking is permitted and the building doesn’t have a garage. Everything we need is within walking distance so we don’t drive much anyway. I own more than one vehicle, as does Gem, so I bought this garage across town last year. It just made sense.
I pay the cab driver and we get out. It’s not a huge building, but big enough. The building itself is plain. It has grey steel siding, a garage door and a regular door – but it’s what inside it that matters. Walking up to the door I enter the key code to unlock the door. Click. Stepping in, I flip the switch that turns on the large shop lights that hang above my three vehicles.
“Wow, I feel like it has been forever since I’ve been in here,” Gemma says in awe.
All I can do is nod as I stare at my prize possessions. I slowly walk towards them and lightly skim my hand on each hood. First, is my black 2015 Nissan, Armada. It’s my luxury SUV. This baby is my main ride. I drive it whenever I need to go somewhere further than walking distance, though, I’ve only driven it a few times. I got it back in January and it’ll be what we dri
ve when we go to Indiana to visit my dad and Michael.
Next is my old rusty, red 1996 Dodge Ram pickup, 1500. This was my very first vehicle. My dad and mom surprised me with on my sixteenth birthday. I rarely drive it anymore, only on those rare occasions I need a truck to haul something. But other than that, it just sits. It brings back a lot of memories for me. Most are good and some are bad. Some of the memories I’ve had in this truck used to be amazing, but are now they are tainted with my hatred and rage. None the less, I love this truck, and I’ll always keep it around.
Finally, my third vehicle is my 2012 Lexus LFA. It’s my super car; sleek, sexy, and fast! My super car or, “Lex”, as I like to call her, is the ultimate car. Its gun metal color really shines in the sunlight and the red leather seats give me this dark feeling whenever I get in. The LFA is the car I use to… race. Yes, that is my big secret. Well, one of them. Of course, I race illegally, but the details don’t matter right now.
I was actually really lucky to come across this car when I did. Back in September of last year, I was at a costumer’s house; a lady in her early 70’s and I was going through jewelry designs she wanted, when I had noticed a picture of her recently deceased husband standing next to my now beloved precious car. Her husband had passed away from a stroke the year before and the car was just sitting away in storage. Long story short, we got to talking and the car is now mine. Less than a 1000 miles on it and obviously well taken care of. Of course, it had cost a fortune, but the lady was happy to sell it to me. Saying something about how if it wasn’t the stroke that killed him, it would have been the car and that he was too damn old to be cruising around in something like that. Her words, not mine.
I feel extremely lucky to have this car because not a lot were made. I paid her in cash the next day when I came back to finalize what she wanted for her jewelry. I had been saving like crazy for the right car to come along - and it did.
The look on Gemma’s face was absolutely priceless the day I brought the car home. I rolled up in front of our GemMar Makings jewelry store; Gemma was over by the store-front window. She looked over as I pulled up with the window down waving like an idiot.
“Hello gorgeous, I have missed you,” I whisper to my baby. I peel my eyes from my car and look over at Gemma, now wearing a smirk on her face, waiting patiently for me to stop loving on my car.
“What?” I shrug my shoulders.
“Nothing. You done yet? I’m ready to feel her flow,” she says with excitement, shifting from foot to foot.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say waving my hand at her.
We get in and travel few hours southwest of Denver to an old airfield. I pull the car to the end of a runway strip and put her in park for a minute. I need to mentally prepare myself. I close my eyes and place both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, listening to her sound. Man, I love the way she purrs. It’s close to orgasmic for me. I look over at Gemma and smile. She grabs my hand and squeezes. “You ready?” I ask, though, I know she is. It’s amazing how much she truly does support me and my stupid fuck-ups.
“Marlie, as long as you’re in the driver’s seat, I have no fear,” she says reassuringly.
Yeah, she’s pretty fucking cool.
“Alright then, check your belt and make sure it’s secure.” She does and I do the same.
Next, I pair my phone to the cars Bluetooth and search for my favorite “driving fast” song. I pick “Riot” by Three Days Grace. This song means a lot to me. It’s almost creepy how aptly it fits my life now and the past. Turning the volume up to extreme loud, I shift the car and take off.
If you feel, so empty, so used up, so let down.
If you feel, so angry, so ripped off, so stepped on.
You’re not the, only one,
Refusing, to back down
You’re not the, only one.
So get up
Let’s start a riot!
The song’s lyrics hit home as the car quickly hits 60mph in three seconds flat. Barreling down the strip I feel… free - like I don’t have a care in the world. The adrenaline rush alone is enough to keep me high for a week. I’m already halfway down the strip and I’m at 168mph. I have never pushed past 180 in this, but that’s because this is only a small, unused airfield strip and I can only go so fast for so long before I have to shift and slow down to turn. I have done my research, though. I know this car can push past 200. I’m just going to have to wait until the fast approaching summer to do it.
If you feel, so filthy, so dirty, so fucked up.
If you feel, so walked on, so painful, so pissed off.
You’re not the, only one, refusing, to go down.
You’re not the, only one
So get up!
Let’s start riot!
The song echoes in the back of my mind as I begin to slow down, shift and whip the car to the side and drift to the next strip.
“Hell yeah!” Gemma screams, loving every second of this.
Speeding back up on the other side, I do it all over again with same song on repeat. This feeling is heaven if I ever knew it. I can’t believe this is my life now. Two years ago I would have never thought I would be doing this. Sure, I was a part of this world, but that was only from the sidelines. Now… now it’s the real deal. Part of me hates it and the other part craves it. The rush I get from driving, drifting and knowing how to do it well, satisfies me in ways other things can’t. The only thing that stands in my way of this love and hate game I have with racing, is that I have to do it. Otherwise, I’d probably be dead.
Murdered.
Killed.
However you want to put it, I would no longer be around to be the successful jewelry maker and owner of my own business. I can’t think of the why or how I got myself into racing. If I do, it would just tear me up on the inside. I just have to get through this summer and the next, and in theory, I’ll be in the home stretch and will no longer have to do it and can finally leave my sordid past behind me.
Twenty minutes later, I slow down all the way to a stop and park the car. Gem and I sit in the car for a moment. For me, it’s trying to slow down my heart rate. My body is shaking, trembling really. It feels so good, too good. The power I get from being behind the wheel this way is magical. I finally click off my belt and reach for my purse. I get out of the car, walk around the front and lean on the hood. Gemma joins me still wearing a smile on her face.
“Well that was awesome as usual, Marlie,” she praises as she shoulder bumps me.
“Yeah, I definitely needed to do that. It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world for me. Thanks for coming along for the ride by the way.” I reach into my purse and grab a single blunt I rolled before we left. Lighting it up and taking a couple hits, I lean further back onto the hood and begin to relax watching the sun begin to set.
Gemma takes the blunt from me and takes a nice puff. “Well, shit yeah, I came with you! Better than any carnival or rollercoaster ride I’ve ever been on and you know how I like fair rides,” wiggling her brows up and down making what she said have a hidden meaning. She’s kind of a pervert and I like it.
We sit in silence for a few minutes while we smoke and enjoy this time. The blunt is now close to a roach, when I see it… A goddamn cop. Wonderful. I leisurely take another drag from the blunt and casually hand it back to Gemma. The cop is still a good distance away and let’s face it, I’m not really worried about getting arrested. Not that it’s the weed I’m worried about. No, it’s the fact that I can get in major trouble being on this airfield. Even if it is old and abandoned. Also, my plates are fake, so there’s that too.
“Isn’t that just dandy?” Gemma asks, also noticing the five-o. She’s just as nonchalant as I am about the whole thing.
She tosses the roach on the ground and smothers the cherry with her shoe. We get back in the car and that’s when the cop lights up his berries and cherries and starts towards us at a faster pace. I don’t waste any time putting on my seatbelt as I peel out and
scoot. The cop is now chasing us. No biggie, because in just a few short seconds he’s like dust in the wind to us, with no chance in hell of ever catching up. It puts a smile on my face that I can do that; get away from the cop in a matter of seconds.
Leaving the squad car behind, we head back towards home. It’s now close to eight at night and it’ll take us a good four hours (going the speed limit) to get home. Gem and I relax for the ride home- not that it’s a hard thing to do in the luxury red leather seats.
SEVEN
IT WAS JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT WHEN we got home last night. After dropping the car off and taking a cab home, we had a beer while we discussed work for the next day, then crashed out hard. Well I at least did, can’t really speak for Gemma.
As I’m getting ready for the day, Gemma walks in, “Whoa! That’s some outfit for a Monday, chick. Especially since you are usually more casually dressed on Mondays, with no meetings and all.” She waves her hand in the air, “but I’m sure it has nothing to do with your lunch date with that sexy devil, Wes.” She arches her brows at me, then adds a wink trying to be cute.
“It is not a date!” I defend. “I’m trying to be friends with the guy, not date him!”
“Could have fooled me,” she says, walking away before I can say anything else. I look down at myself and again in the mirror. I’m in a short fitted, blue, lace dress, with nude pumps. I took the time to straighten my hair - which is a long process because my hair is thick and long. I even paid extra attention to detail with my makeup.
Shit. I do look more like I am going on date and not to work or to lunch with a friend. I place my hands on the counter and lower my head. She’s right. What am I doing? Did I intentionally dress this way? No, definitely not. Subconsciously? Maybe.
I kick off my shoes and head for my closet and start to rummage through my clothes. I need to change and I should probably wear the total opposite of what I am now. I wish I had a burlap sack to wear. That shouldn’t give him the wrong impression, right?
Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) Page 8