Page 3 of Born to Scar

CAM

This goddamn day just keeps getting better. I’m ten miles from the hotel I’m staying at, my rental car dies, and my cell is dead. It’s hot and sticky and uncomfortable here. A far cry from home. The closest place is this bar that I’m at now, sitting in their shitty office.

Though, the bartender is smoking hot. She’s not my usual type, not even close. Pure, blond, classic, rich, stuck-up beauty—that’s what I go after. She’s none of those things.

She is beautiful but unconventional and dark. She’s covered in tattoos and piercings. Her hair is long and lush but silver with black ends, and she has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, set against her olive skin.

My parents would double over and die if I were to ever bring someone like her home. Hmm, that doesn’t sound so bad.

“This is Cameron Beck. I need a driver to pick me up from a bar that’s close to your hotel. My rental car died, and I’m stranded.” The front desk of the hotel takes the address details and sets up a driver to pick me up.

“He’ll arrive in approximately an hour.”

Frustration washes over me again, and I sigh. “There’s no way to make that faster?”

“No, sir, I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, hanging up.

As I walk out the door, Indy walks past me, and I nearly knock her over. I’m 6’3” and not exactly a lanky man, and this girl is small. I catch her by her arm before she topples over.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” She scrambles out of my touch, straightening herself.

“It’s okay. It was my fault. I apologize,” I say, pulling my hand away and shoving it in my pocket, before I reach out to touch her again.

My fingers want to touch her again. Did she feel that? I don’t even know what that was, but it’s nothing I’ve ever felt before. If she did, she’s not showing it.

“Did you make your call?”

“Yes, thank you. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for another hour.”

“Make yourself comfortable, you can sit at the bar or a table. The degenerates in here won’t mess with you. If they do, I’ll take care of it.” She smiles and points, leading me back out to the front.

I sit at the bar. I may as well order a drink while I wait. “Hey, Indy? Can I get bourbon on the rocks?”

She nods and rattles off the bourbon they have, which, for a shitty place, they have a decent collection of alcohol. I order, and when she brings me the glass, she hands me a charger, too.

“See if that fits your phone. We have a ton, so I’m sure I can find one that does if…”

“It fits!” I smile back at her.

She nods. “The outlet is under you.” She points down at the bar top.

“Thank you.” She smiles and gives me a single nod as she walks off, tending to the man beside me.

“So, Indy…Bik has a new location set up. We’ll be racing again in two weeks,” the same man tells her.

She snaps her head up, eyes wild. “When in the fuck did you hear that?”

“Just before I got here. I got the call from Bik himself.” The smile that forms on this girl’s face is out of this world.

She slams her fists on the bar three times. “Fuck yeah! I’ve been itching for it. I could kiss you on the mouth, Ray.”

The man looks smug but happy to have given her that news. She tiptoes, looking over the bar top at the bouncer again. “Hey Micky! Two fucking weeks and it’s on.”

The bouncer slams his fists on the table he is sitting at. And the whole bar slams theirs down, too. Three times, like a fucking war call.

Indy lines the bar top with shot glasses and pours the shittiest vodka they have; every person in the building gets one. No one takes theirs until she jumps up on the bar top in front of me and yells, “We’re back, boys!”