Slow Twitch - Реинхардт Лиз. Страница 47

Jake glanced her way with a look of startled empathy. “My dad’s family sent me a brand new bike today.”

It was obvious from his tone that this was a problem, but he didn’t give a single detail.

“I understand.” Evan slid a tight smile in his direction.

I jumped in. “But Jake needs the bike to have a chance to win. Who cares if it’s from them? They have more money than God, so it’s not like this is some huge thing they can hold over his head. I think you should use the bike that’s safe when you race.”

“No.” Jake put his left arm out the door and pounded the metal. “I can’t. I won’t.”

I was slightly shocked at Jake’s uncharacteristic outburst. “But you could get hurt,” I protested.

“I’ll have gear on. I’m not an idiot.” He looked at me from under the brim of his cap. “Alright, maybe I’m a tiny little bit of an idiot, but not big time. Trust me on this one.”

“Evan, you took the classes once the payment came back, right?” I realized from Jake’s glare that I was pushing, but he worried the crap out of me.

“Sure.” She rubbed her elbow on mine, and there was the bony bump of our arms against each other that was Evan’s warning to me. “But, in my case, Gramma swooped in to pay, and I love that woman back and forward. Also, I have a soft spot for my daddy, even if he’s mostly useless. He never perved it up with my girl.”

“Thank you, Evan.” Jake looked around me and grinned like a fool, happy to finally have an ally in an argument. “It’s sweet to have someone who can understand sense.”

“Alright? You want sense? If you don’t use the bike they sent, I think you should drop out of the race.” The silence that started the trip fell back over us like a heavy, wet blanket. I put a hand on Jake’s thigh and squeezed. “I know you think I’m being a huge pain in the ass, but if you get hurt, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”

“I’m notgoing to get hurt. I’m not.” We pulled onto the highway and he accelerated. The air whipped through the car, Evan held her hair to the side with her hand, and I let mine fly wild while I gave Jake a long, steady glare. He shook his head. “Look, if I was still piss-poor, I’d just be riding my old beater, no questions. So let’s just pretend I’m still piss-poor, okay?”

“No way. Because you’re not, so you have to take advantage of what that means,” I lectured.

Evan pinched my arm, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to shut me down. I wanted to yell at both of them. Tell them why my point made so much more sense. But I felt like I was outnumbered for once.

We pulled in at Tony’s and Evan said, “I have the bladder of a baby squirrel. Brenna, come to the ladies’ with me?”

All three of us got out and went inside the diner, complete with shiny black-and-white tiled floors and sparkly red booths with bright red laminate tables.

“You girls want me to get a table inside?” Jake asked.

“Could you?” Evan’s drawl was cinnamon sweet and a little smoky. She dragged me to the bathroom. Once the heavy door swung shut, she put her hands on either side of my face and looked me right in the eyes. “Are. You. Insane?” She squeezed my face.

“Why? Ow! You’re squeezing my face!” I cried.

Evan released me, crossed her long, thin arms over her chest, and tapped her foot.

“What?” I demanded. She just stared, so I stomped over to the sink, yanked on the zipper of my purse, and pulled out my lipstick, a new berry pink color that I still hadn’t decided if I liked or not. “Why would you be mad at me? You think he should ride that bike? Have you ever seen a motocross race? It’s dangerous. Even when every single thing works perfectly, it’s still scary as hell, okay? His bike was barely making it a few months ago, and now he has the chance to be safe. And win. And be happy. So why am I the maniac?”

Evan made it look like she was rubbing her eyes, but I knew for a fact she wouldn’t touch all that expertly applied mascara. “Sweetie, for someone do damn smart, you can be so damn dense.”

I bit my tongue before I told her that was pretty much the biggest example of the pot calling the kettle black ever and, instead, studiously applied way too much lipstick. “I’m being dense?”

She waltzed into a stall and slid the bolt over, and when she spoke, her voice bounced off of the pink and cream tiles. “He’s got pride. Crazy pride. And he’s not going to just get on some blood-money bike his family sent, no matter what. If he’s a good rider, he’ll be careful. I’m warning you now, if that boy doesn’t win the race, he’ll probably have this whole moral breakdown, but you have to step back and let him do it.” She flushed the toilet and came out. This time she spoke so low, I had to bend my head close to hear her over the water running out of the faucet. “Trust me, Jake is rare. I’ve seen so many guys who have access to more money than some small countries, and it makes them animals. Appreciate what you have, because, sweetie, he’s amazing. Seriously. Now I get your meltdown in Ireland.” She took the lipstick tube out of my hand, put some on her lips, and held a paper towel out so I could blot some of my dozen layers off.

I followed the click of Evans black heels to the booth where Jake sat. Saxon was across from him, arms over the back of the booth seat. When Saxon saw us, he jumped up and skated onto the floor. Evan slid into the seat he left open and I got in next to Jake.

“Jake, it’s criminal the amount of fine women you convince to hang out with you.” His black eyes were running up and down Evan, who gave him a cheery smile.

“Are you Saxon?” She asked while she perused the laminated menu.

“My reputation precedes me.” He put out a hand, and she shook, not the light, finger-grabbing shake that she’d done with Devon and Jake, but a full-on, business handshake. “Nice grip,” Saxon complimented. “I’m not officially your waiter, but I hate to see beautiful women in need of anything. What’s your poison?”

“A mint chocolate chip shake, extra whipped cream, two cherries.” Evan winked, and every single coat of mascara did its flirty/lovely job. “And a water, lots of ice, please.”

Jake ordered a rootbeer float, I got a chocolate shake and a Coke, and Saxon skated away to get our drinks. Jake studied Evan, who didn’t seem remotely Saxon-interested, then looked at me with a face that let me know he was anticipating a fight and didn’t like it. The look on his face got my back up and made me want to explain my points again, slowly, so the logic could be absorbed. But Evan’s quiet look of warning stopped me cold. We watched Saxon skate back, our drinks on a round black tray.

“Here you are, m’ladies.” He put our shakes in front of us. “A little birdie told me someone dropped a shiny, expensive gift at your door.” He handed Jake his drink and raised his eyebrows. “Guess I can put my summer savings on you at the race after all.”

“I’m not taking it.” Jake jabbed the vanilla-bean-flecked ice-cream into the soda and watched the brown foam volcano out the top and soak the placemat. Evan grabbed some napkins and blotted it, and he thanked her.

“I get it.” Saxon sat next on the bench next to Evan, forcing her to scoot in. “I do. Gerald’s a fucking prick. It sucks he’s our loser excuse for a father. But he’s got money, your current bike sucks ass, and who gives a shit? You don’t have to even acknowledge you got the thing. You could throw if off a cliff after you win the race if you want. But use it to win.”

“It’s safer,” I piped up, earning a defiant glare from Jake, a warning eyebrow from Evan, and a nod of satisfaction from Saxon.

“She’s right, man. Listen to her. It’s safer, and you’re not going to win without it.” Saxon met my eyes across the table, and we made a silent pact to join forces for Jake’s benefit.

Jake fidgeted in his seat, and I know he would have stomped away if I hadn’t been blocking him in.