Racehead

by Daya Daniels

  “Thanks, so is yours.”

  She examines her fingertips. “It’s fire blue.”

  “I like it.” I bite my lip. “I like anything on you.”

  She blinks her big eyes. “You make me feel so beautiful.”

  “Because you are.” I drag my fingers through her hair and then I’m consuming her mouth once more in a vicious kiss, nipping at her lips, sliding my hand up along the line of her neck and allowing it to settle at her nape. I bury my face in her sweet skin and breathe her in.

  A gasp slips from her mouth when I slide my hand into her T-shirt and palm her breasts. Her hand slides up my bare thighs squeezing them.

  She slides lower and lower down until her knees are on the floor and she’s praying my way. A wild mess of dark hair covers me. She yanks me farther down in the leather seat and pushes up my skirt that’s nothing but a scrap of denim. Slowly, she spreads my thighs wide and wrenches my panties down my legs.

  I’m the meat dangling from a ravenous cougar’s mouth.

  Vashti tosses my panties in the passenger seat.

  She buries her nose into my left thigh and rains kisses up, up, up, until her mouth is lingering near my pussy, breathing warm breaths along my already sensitive flesh.

  I shove my fingers into her dark strands.

  Vashti licks her pouty lips, leaving them wet.

  I want to kiss them.

  But then I want them to consume me right in that spot which begs.

  Arching my back, I offer her up all my secrets, everything me.

  I cry out when she buries her mouth between my thighs.

  Her tongue circles my clit. It glides over my skin, licking and sucking. The tip of her nose teases me right along with her lips. Hard and soft. Gentle and not so gentle. Wet, wet, wet. It pours out of me just like my gasps do.

  My body jerks in the seat, chasing her tongue, begging for big chunks of her soul.

  I peer into her eyes which have taken on an edge of conviction.

  “Oh god,” I cry out, twisting my fingers into her hair, rocking on her mouth. “Oh god.” I move harder, fucking her tongue, chasing my orgasm that’s already wrapped around my thighs and squeezing its way up to my nipples.

  She moans into my flesh.

  And soon, I COMBUST!

  I ride the wave of lust until I’m drowning at the bottom of the tumultuous sea and begging to be saved like a lost girl.

  Panting, shaking, quivering.

  I ease down into the seat, slump against her then kiss her lips.

  She kisses my cheek and holds me close.

  And I feel precious, like a gift, just without the glittery wrapping. I’m more like a box covered in gasoline. Explosive. Just waiting for the fucking match to strike.

  And Vashti holds it, although unlit.

  She damn well holds it.

  “I love that you get me, V. You get all of me.” I blink rapidly and peer into her beautiful browns.

  She gifts me with the humblest smile. “I love you, Nevada.”

  Unsure if I heard the words correctly, I’m unable to take a breath.

  Vashti waits like a soon-to-be stood up date.

  Her long lashes flutter and her expression is shy, so fucking shy.

  As if with one wrong word I could make her entire universe collapse in an atomic cloud.

  But she doesn’t have to worry about that.

  I’m not here to destroy anything, only to mend, only to build, only to love.

  “I love you too, V.” I kiss her lips, knowing I’ll never need or want to kiss another’s. I urge Vashti to crawl back into my lap and soon I’m stripping her out of her top and yanking off her shorts like I hate them.

  My lips collide with the soft skin on her belly where I lick and suck and leave my mark. Where I brand her with my love. And I want more. This isn’t enough.

  Our lips fuse together.

  She cups my face in her warm hands and brushes the tip of her nose along mine.

  I pant. “I love you.” It’s a commitment.

  She smiles.

  So perfect.

  Me and V. The girl of my fast dreams.

  I slide my hand between her thighs finding her wet.

  Me and V. The girl with the moon eyes and a dope soul that’ll make you want to take her right home to meet your madre.

  My digits delve into her heaven.

  Me and V.

  The remarkable girl.

  Me and V…

  We’re like the rocks out here in The Badlands…

  Solid.

  Me and V.

  Nevada

  I SAW MY FUCKIN’ car today…

  On Ramona Drive, moving slowly, with a bassline pumping through it.

  Megs tossed me two fingers in salute before she grinned like a fool and took off, giving my car everything she had by stomping on the gas pedal. It was a flash of silver moving past me. Then, it was gone.

  Marching into the garage, I toss the claw hammer on the concrete.

  CLANK.

  Then I kick the barrel of water over.

  SPLASH.

  Feeling nothing but fury, I let out a deep breath.

  Phantogram’s “You Don’t Get Me High Anymore” floats through this garage.

  It’s like two million goddamn degrees today.

  The August sun is high, and the sky is the prettiest pale blue.

  I wipe the sweat from my forehead, mutter a few words to myself and spin around to face Ash. “Shit.” I jump in surprise. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  She brushes her blue hair away from her face. “Yeah, yeah.” She nods. “It’s Tuesday. I’m always here on Tuesdays, you know that.”

  With my eyes narrowed, I look at the calendar then my watch.

  “You do know what day it is, don’t you?” She laughs.

  “Of course, I do.” I amble across the garage to the Mustang and run my palm over its shiny red finish that’s cool to the touch. My eyes fix on the engine that needs to go beneath the hood after a few more tests. I tap on it a few times, proud, thinking.

  “This thing is a fucking monster, Racehead.” Ash grins and hooks an arm around my shoulder.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, the nervous-mechanical-engineer-to-be made it all happen…”

  I scratch my head. “Yeah, she did. Vashti is good, really good.”

  “Yeah, I know. I talked to her for a little while yesterday about the position of the connecting rods and she gave me a pretty decent lecture that left me with a raging headache after it was all over.” She chuckles.

  I exhale loudly.

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Ash scrubs her face with her hands.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, good. You should get some rest tonight. No partying.” She winks.

  I laugh at her ridiculous sarcasm.

  “I’ll be back in the morning.” She heads out of the garage.

  Pete nudges my hand with his head. I scrub it a few times.

  Ash strolls across the dusty junkyard over to where the wrecker is parked. After she jumps in, it starts up with a rumble that makes Pete howl today for some odd reason.

  Syd blasts through the door. She runs her fingers through her hair. A cigarette hangs from between her lips, as usual. “Have you seen the appointment book, Nevada?”

  “No, I haven’t.” I head over to the hydraulic lift and wipe the grease off my hands with a rag.

  Syd shoots me an annoyed look. “Are you sure, Nevada?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  She rummages through a pile of stuff on the desk over in the corner and then snaps her fingers. My guess is she discovered what she’s looking for. “Got it.”

  “Good.”

  “We need to leave tomorrow on time to be at the track.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  It’s my race…

  Rolling my eyes and getting started with my next job in here, I think about the shape of the track I’ll be racing on tomorrow. The on
e I’ve been on a million times before. With a bunch of different cars. With a million different tactics. But always with the same crew.

  Drifting.

  Like my mind has been doing all day.

  Fucking drifting.

  You might ask where?

  Oh, mostly to thoughts about Vashti—the girl I’d made love to all week, all month, in every place possible until we couldn’t breathe anymore without each other’s air filling our lungs. All the promises I’d made to Banks. Going pro. Sheriff Abs’ obsession with nailing me and throwing my ass right in the slammer. The gray car…Getting my car back. And the possibility of it all falling straight to Hell quicker than Lucifer had tripped on his way there.

  Drifting…

  The driving technique where the driver intentionally oversteers. Traction is lost in the rear tires, but the car is kept under control through the entirety of a corner.

  I’ve spent years perfecting the technique.

  Years.

  The altered 2014 purple Nissan Skyline I’ll be driving tomorrow sits out in the junkyard beneath an awning where I’ve just polished it up. It’s beautiful. Too bad that by the end of tomorrow it’ll be dusty as fuck and beat to hell.

  “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you, including me, of course.” Syd’s voice cuts into my thoughts, since I’m drifting again.

  “I know, Syd.” I flick a switch and the car on the hydraulic lift slowly descends.

  “I’m excited. I know you will make the cut.” She does a shimmy.

  “I will.”

  She snatches up a folder and rushes over to the door. Pete follows behind her.

  “Syd!”

  “Yeah.” She twists around to face me.

  I turn away from her and snatch up a monkey wrench, examining the grooves in the handle. “Do you think there’s anything else I need to do, you know, to be more prepared, to win that race tomorrow?”

  “Nope, just keep doing what you’re doing.” The door shuts behind her after she slips through it.

  Just keep doing what I’m doing…

  Got it.

  Vashti

  “YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET TONIGHT?” I brush Banks’ thick hair away from his forehead.

  We sit on the living room floor in front of the coffee table in the silence since the two of us are reading and writing. I adore Banks’ in these moments, so studious and smart. The type of kid you don’t have to tell to do their homework or review notes for their class. He does it all willingly. In just a few seconds, he goes from being annoying to me completely revering him.

  I kiss him on the cheek.

  With a grimace, he wipes it off and gets back to flipping through his notebook that’s filled with sooooo many facts about the state of California. My head spins whenever he reads it all to me.

  My brain is already full of enough words…

  With a huff, I pluck up a French fry from the plate of food we’ve been sharing then toss it in my mouth.

  Flipping through the pages and scrolling over the words with a finger, I smile because I’ve done everything right when it comes to helping Nevada rebuild the engine she plans to put in the Mustang.

  It’s more than ready.

  Tomorrow it will be lowered in the hood and then we’ll kick the masterpiece over.

  If it explodes, I’ll blame the books.

  “Is it hard, Vashti?” Banks faces me. “You know reading all these books?” He taps on the thickest one—Fundamentals of Thermodynamics. “This is big.”

  “Yeah.” I brush my hair away from my face. “It’s probably weighs more than you.” My fingers thread through his dark hair. “But, yeah it is hard.” I smile. “It was difficult in the beginning. Truthfully, I’ve struggled through all of it, Banks. But since I met Nevada and have been spending so much time in her garage with Ash and working on all the engines when I can, everything has become so much easier.”

  Banks grins. “I think our lives are a lot easier with Nevada around.”

  “Yeah, I think so too.”

  My phone buzzes and sends a weird vibration through the coffee table. Banks almost jumps out of his pajamas. Laughing, I quickly snatch it up and examine the faceplate.

  Racehead: What are you two doing up at this hour of the night?

  Smiling, I tap out my reply.

  Me: Who says we’re up?

  Racehead: You texted back…right away, so I’m right.

  Me: Okay, you got me there, lady.

  Racehead: I miss you. I miss you both.

  Me: I miss you. We miss you too. But, we are going to see each other tomorrow.

  Racehead: I wish you were sleeping over tonight.

  I snort out a laugh.

  Me: Nope, not tonight. I’ve traded stuffing myself in one small bed for another.

  Racehead: I can’t sleep.

  Me: You should try. It’s probably just nerves.

  Racehead: I don’t get nervous. Only you make me nervous.

  This time I really do laugh.

  Me: That is so not true.

  Racehead: It truly is.

  Me: There are more than two thousand people on Instagram who believe you will make it in the top five tomorrow. And that’s out of the ten thousand followers you currently have. And I know that because I’ve checked your page like a billion times just today.

  Racehead: Stalker.

  Me: I’m your number one fan.

  Racehead: Isn’t that what all stalkers say?

  I suppose they do…

  A smiley face accompanies her question.

  Me: You should really get some rest.

  Racehead: I’ve been polishing up the Mustang. You know obsession never sleeps.

  Me: I know. I suppose it’s why I’m still up reading these stupid books.

  Racehead: You worry too much. You’re going to pass your exams with ease, baby.

  Me: I hope so. If not, it’s all been for nothing.

  Racehead: It’s never for nothing, V.

  Me: Maybe.

  Racehead: I’m going to paint my fingernails tonight.

  Me: Me too.

  Racehead: What color?

  Me: They’ll be muted yellow for ‘caution.’

  Racehead: Well, mine will be neon green for ‘go.’

  Giggling, I glance over at the clock on the wall that ticks away which tells me it’s almost twelve o’clock at night.

  Me: I’m ordering you to go to sleep.

  Racehead: So is Syd who’s crowding my space as I type this to you.

  Me: Get some sleep. I love you. I’ll see you at the track.

  Racehead: I love you more. Give Banks a high five for me.

  When I twist around to face Banks, he’s already dusting me with a non-blinking stare.

  After resting my phone down, I deliver the requested high-five to his palm.

  He shakes his head. “All this love stuff is just gross.”

  Pulling him into me, I kiss him all over the face. “I love, love, love you so much. All this love stuff is just sooooo gross.” I tickle him. “I love you, Bankebihari Abhayananda Patel.”

  His brown eyes are big as he squeals. “I love you too, V.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Vashti

  “RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD!” The crowd erupts.

  Spinning around, I eye all the people who have gathered here with awe.

  They chant the names of all the drivers present, but mostly, I hear “Racehead.”

  “Brah, this is so cool!” Banks gives me a cheesy grin, scanning the place.

  The sun beats down on where we stand in the pits. People rush round. Syd barks out orders to the crew. Nevada signs autographs and takes pictures with her fans. The shiny purple car a short distance away, sparkles.

  Nevada is the only woman here among the male drivers.

  They eyeball her with disdain. Some are even outright rude. But the most shockingly obvious difference here is that Nevada’s car, her purple jumpsuit and helmet emblazoned wit
h her name on it aren’t as expensive as her fellow counterparts’ gear.

  These guys have money.

  Some even already have sponsors.

  Nevada only has every dime she’s ever earned poured into this and the money Syd has invested in her racing. It isn’t enough. And it shows.

  Still, Nevada smiles. She poses, shooting up the peace sign two fingers. The fans hug on her and wish her luck. Right now, she’s a superstar.

  Satisfaction gushes through me at all the love Nevada shows the people who support her career.

  Syd rushes past me, almost knocking me down. Her hair flows behind her and that customary cigarette bobs between her lips as she checks out Nevada’s car.

  I jump at the volume when the engine is revved up.

  Banks slips his ear muffs on and smiles. “This is so cool, V.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I adjust my baseball cap and head over to where the Nevada’s car is parked, dragging Banks along with me.

  “Hey, you can’t smoke here, lady!” a man calls out, pointing a finger at Syd.

  Syd waves a hand around. “All this smoke around here…”

  I laugh.

  Syd puts out her cigarette and returns to checking the tires.

  Ash slips out of the driver’s seat. “It’s all a go.” Her left thumb is up.

  “Good.” Syd gives Ash a terse nod.

  The announcer gets on the loudspeaker to inform everyone that the races are about to start. He calls out the names of each driver and their numbers.

  They’re all dudes, as I mentioned before…Matthew’s, Allan’s and Jeremy’s.

  Ruby waves frantically from where she’s positioned in the stands. The crew she’s standing with hold up a sign which reads: TEAM RACEHEAD. It’s as if Ruby’s entire family turned out for this race.

  I wave in her direction and so does Banks.

  Nevada heads over to us.

  “RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD!” The crowd starts up again.

  “Hey, Banks.” Nevada raises her palm.

  Banks gives her a high five. “Hey, this is exciting. You’re going to win today. I just know it.”

  Nevada squints at the timer posted high above us on a billboard. “Time is the most important thing in this race, Banks. Time.”