Page 146 of Always: A Legacy Novel

“I am … better, I mean.”

It took a while.

He tried to be numb a lot of the time. Used just about anything that would get him to that blissed, numbed place.

It didn’t work.

It did distract him.

“Don’t forget to put the gun away,” Calisto said as he turned to head out the side door of the garage.

“I won’t.”

“And switch the license plates on your Rover tonight before you head out.”

Cross stiffened, and then let out a laugh. “Heard about the street races, huh?”

“Son, I hear everything. Even when you think I don’t.”

Parked down by the dock, look for flares.

Cross cursed as he parked his Rover, and looked over Zeke’s text. As it was, too many vehicles were blocking his path to get in further, and he was stuck walking to his friend. Probably a good block, maybe more.

He threw the hood of his hoodie over his head, and pocketed the keys of his Rover. He wouldn’t be participating in the street races this time, but he did enjoy the show. Zeke had gotten wind of the races two months ago, but it wasn’t an easy thing to get into. The organizers made it an invite-only situation, and that invite came as a random text. Locations, times, streets, and nothing more.

Sometimes, one text would come, and then half way through the day, a new one would come in with changed times and places. Cross suspected that was because someone got wind the cops might show up.

Almost always, the races started in places that were abandoned, or had little activity. Cars lined up on the streets, trunks and hoods opened wide, and music blaring while engines purred. Girls perched themselves on the roofs of cars, sipping whatever drinks were in their hands, and the air usually held the distinct smell of weed every few vehicles or so.

The thing about street racing was speed happened to be only one part of the equation when the race track was city streets, or sometimes, a whole damn state. Whoever was behind the wheel had to know where they were going, and where they needed to get to within a certain amount of time, and preferably, in first position. If they had the ability to use shortcuts, even better.

There weren’t a lot of rules.

Just a start and a finish.

Cross wasn’t big on the racing aspect where his enjoyment came into play—his Rover wasn’t made for that kind of thing. He did like to see the vehicles and make his bet, though.

And he had money.

“Donati!”

Cross nodded at the guy shouting his name, but kept making his way down the street. Dodging in and out through parked vehicles, he caught sight of the flares lighting up the docks. A few cars away, he found Zeke leaning back on the hood of his cherry red Camaro, with a joint dangling from his fingertips.

“You’re fucking late,” Zeke said.

“Yeah, I know.” Cross stepped up on the Camaro’s bumper and sat his ass down on the hood beside Zeke. “Cam got to me before I left.”

“She’s spoiled as hell.”

Cross shrugged. “Like your sister isn’t?”

“My sister is eighteen and pregnant, so the innocent act flew out the window not too long ago, thanks. Nobody’s spoiling her now.”

“Where’s your girl?”

Zeke pushed up into a sitting position, and took a heavy drag off the joint, letting a heady cloud of smoke lift to the sky. “Somewhere. She wanted to get something, I think.”

Jade—Zeke’s plaything for the month—was not Cross’s favorite person, but he dealt with the girl. He didn’t know how his friend handled girls like that to begin with; ones with expensive tastes, spoiled dispositions, and habits they couldn’t kick.