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“Okay, thanks,” I nod once before turning back toward the little green car.
“Keaton,” Bodhi calls my name, and I’m half tempted not to answer. But I do.
“Yeah?” I stop, turning to look over my shoulder as I reach for the door handle.
“I’m sorry.”
The pang in my chest was probably just a result of my little outburst, but nevertheless, it wasn’t awful to hear him say those words.
“Yeah… thanks,” I say, flashing my eyes to his for the briefest of seconds before climbing in the car and pulling away.
What I wouldn’t have given to be in my car, revving the engine and peeling out of that parking lot like a bat out of hell. Instead, I probably looked like a total dork puttering out of there.
As soon as I got home, I called Sander at the station and asked him to make sure they sent the Camaro over to Rush Automotives tomorrow afternoon. He assured me that their tow-truck driver would have it there on time, and I thanked him again for all of his help.
With every single thank you I delivered, the pit in my stomach felt heavier and heavier. I hate owing people, and the debts just keep racking up. I found out through some pretty tough situations that the only person you can rely on is yourself, and I’d like to keep it that way. Though, I guess Bodhi is the one who owes me for hitting my car. So, I try not to look at his offer to pay off the damages as a debt owed in my books.
I have the rest of the day off and there are several things I need to take care of around the house, namely getting our front lawn cleaned up.
The sky is clear today, and the sun is shining. With the light breeze, the heat is bearable. In my shorts and t-shirt, I slip on an old pair of shoes and drag the lawn mower out from the garage. Our yard isn’t huge, so I know it won’t take me long, but it’s several weeks overdue.
I’m about halfway finished with the side yard when I noticed the black SUV that pulls up and parks across the street. I try to ignore it, continuing my task, but when I hear the echo of a car door slamming shut, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
Releasing the handle of the mower, I turn toward the street, throwing a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun overhead.
My palms go clammy, and my heart practically beats out of my chest as I watch the tall tan-skinned man cross the street, heading right for me.
Mateo. The person responsible for Eli being put in jail. Not that I have any proof; he made sure of that.
“How you doin’, Mami?” He grins as he approaches, stopping only five feet away from me.
I hate it when he calls me this. Mami… as if he has the right. Like he owns me somehow, just because I’m now responsible for paying off my brother’s debt to him.
I’m smart enough not to sneer, though, knowing exactly what he and his men are capable of.
It was two months after Eli’s sentence was carried out, the first time Mateo showed up here. I was in the garage when he and a few of his friends pulled up. He told me how he started out helping Eli by paying his entry fees for all the races he’d driven in, and after Eli started winning and making money, Mateo expected Eli to pay him back. He swears up and down that Eli — who I knew was extremely grateful for Mateo’s help — refused to pay him back, claiming that he was going to keep all of his money for himself because he’d earned it. He claims that was when Eli stole one of his cars.
Mateo pressed charges and got my brother prosecuted with one count of grand theft auto. I know my brother, and while he didn’t fill me in on everything going on behind the scenes, I’m almost certain that Mateo set him up.
Mateo had stood over me that day and said that Eli being in prison changed nothing, and that he still expected to get his money.
When I told him I didn’t have that kind of money, he and his friends trashed the front lawn and garage. As soon as they went to swing a bat through the windshield of the Camaro, I panicked. I made the dumbest and smartest decision I could make in that moment.
I blurted out that right before Eli was sentenced, he transferred the Camaro over into my name, and if Mateo and his friend’s so much as scratched the paint, my best friend who was on his way to becoming a police officer, would definitely start asking questions.
Without missing a beat, Mateo pulled a gun from behind his back, racked the slide, and pointed it right at my head. My heart had stopped. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think about was my mom coming home and finding my lifeless body lying there on the garage floor, blood pooling around me.
He just stared down at me with those dark eyes, nearly black in the shadows of the garage, like a void that was sure to swallow me whole.
They didn’t touch the car, but Mateo also didn’t leave before threatening not only my life, but my mother’s life as well if I didn’t come up with the money my brother owed him.
That’s when I started racing, vowing to never give Mateo and his guys another reason to show up on my doorstep. I’d seen Eli do it a hundred times, and I knew the kind of money that it brought in. I couldn’t think of any other way to make that amount in the short time I had. Lucky for me, my brother is the one who taught me how to drive, so I’m damn good at it. Good enough that I was able to make consistent payments to him without ever coming face-to-face with that devil again.
Until now.
“Mateo,” I say in greeting.
“Word is you’re without a car,” he says with a sly glint in his eyes.
