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When I expressed my concern for her meeting up with him to pay him off, she assured me that she refused to meet him face to face after he’d threatened her. Apparently, she deposits money into a bank account for him and he leaves her alone. As long as things stay that way, I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now.
I considered making a sizable deposit myself, but I knew that would only piss Keaton off, and as great as things were going between us, I really didn’t want to fuck that up.
Instead, I came up with a different plan.
She wanted to race and earn the money herself? I’d find races for her to drive in. Hell, I went so far as to pay Deacon to organize a mid-week race just to bring in a little extra cash flow for my girl.
It took no convincing Keaton, either. I knew what days she had off work, and all I had to do was give Deacon a time and place. He did the rest.
“I wonder what provoked him to organize a Wednesday night race,” Keaton mused after we pulled up and got out of our cars.
I’d just come from a meeting with my dad about the lineup for the next month’s races, so Keaton and I arrived separately.
“I don’t know.” I shrug and walk around the hood of my car to take her hand.
I didn’t give Deacon a lot of details when I told him I needed this favor, and he didn’t ask either. I’m just hoping the matter wasn’t brought up tonight. Keaton would definitely be pissed about it.
“What’s the buy in?” I ask casually, scanning the crowd.
“A thousand.”
“Nice,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze.
“Wait. Are you not racing tonight?” she asks, confusion creasing her brows.
“Nah, not tonight. I didn’t have time to go home and switch cars, and this one isn’t in any condition to race,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek. I can practically see the wheels turning in her mind.
“What?” I smile down at her, arching an eyebrow in question.
“Do you want to race? I can sit out tonight—”
“No, babe, you’re good. You race, I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines,” I say, tugging her in and kissing the side of her head.
“I thought you said you hated the sidelines,” she quipped.
“Eh, you’re worth it,” I say, tugging her into me just a little more.
We weave through the crowd, nodding and greeting people as we go.
“Do you see Deacon anywhere?” She asks after we’ve walked for a few minutes.
I scan the crowd, wondering the same damn thing, hoping there isn’t a holdup when I catch sight of his neon green Divo through the crowd.
“Up there,” I say, gesturing forward.
A warm breeze wraps around us, blowing Keaton’s hair around her face. She reaches up to push it back, securing it high on her head.
When we finally approach Deacon, the hard set of his jaw gives me pause. Something is definitely going on. But what?
“Deac, man. How’s it going?” I ask, nodding my head in greeting as I reach out to slap hands with him.
“Could be better,” he says nonchalantly, but his eyes are boring into me, silently alerting me to trouble.
Just as I’m trying to figure out a way to separate myself from Keaton long enough to question Deacon, the tight squeeze of her hand in mine has me stopping. She looks like all the blood has drained from her face, and I’m about to ask her what the hell is wrong when I hear him.
“What’s good, Mami?”
