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I’m heading back to where it all started. Back to where I dominated with ease. The only place I could get the fix I was looking for.
Sancte Alto.
Chapter 2
I wipe my hands off on the shop towel as I look over the last-minute adjustments made to the Camaro. That’s about all I can do to ensure tonight runs smoothly. Aside from showing up.
Georgetta, my boss at the Coffee House, asked me to pick up a closing shift tonight, but I had to make up an excuse to get out of it. I got Penny to take it after promising to pick up two of her morning shifts this week.
Waking up at four in the morning to make coffee is not ideal, but the money I’m expecting to win tonight is well worth it.
I drop the hood into place with a sigh. My brother’s necklace sways from where it hangs on the rearview mirror, the silver cross catching the light and drawing my attention.
“I’ve got this, Brother,” I whisper.
I’m not sure what Elijah would say if he knew I was racing his car. I doubt he would be happy about it, but I think he would understand. Family comes first, and we will do whatever it takes to take care of our own.
Eli knew that best and paid the price for it.
Ma would have a meltdown if she knew. I think she suspects it, but she’s said nothing about it. The money comes in and the bills get paid, and that’s what’s important. Not where the money comes from.
It’s not like I’m doing anything terrible to get it. I mean, yeah, street racing is illegal, but it’s not like I’m selling drugs or anything serious. Though the thought did cross my mind after Eli went away and money became scarce.
How was I supposed to take care of our mom by myself at nineteen?
Luckily, Eli taught me a lot about what he knew, on the streets and under the hood. On this very car.
I gave up my dream of cosmetology school and becoming a hair stylist, and instead took up where Eli left off. I always loved racing with my brother, but never imagined I would be the one behind the wheel. As much as I love cutting and styling people’s hair, I don’t know that I would give up racing if anyone asked me to. It offers me a thrill I never knew I craved, and now my body buzzes with anticipation between each race.
Movement outside catches my attention and I look up just in time to see the mail car pulling away.
A weight settles on my chest as I toss the towel on the counter across from me and make my way down the driveway toward the mailbox. I hate mail; it brings nothing but bad news.
The sun shines down through the cottonwoods, and the light breeze casts shadows across the ground. I draw in a deep breath and sigh. It’s such a nice day. Which means a dry night and favorable driving conditions, I hope.
The first thing I notice when I pull open the mailbox is the all too familiar pink envelope I know will hold the most recent notice from the bank. I’m still two months behind on payments.
Shuffling through the stack of envelopes, I make my way back up to the house, muttering to myself.
“Coastal Communities,” I sigh.
Coastal Communities Cancer Center is where we took Ma after we found out she had breast cancer a few years ago. Eli and I were so scared for her, especially since it was just the three of us. I don’t know what we would do without her.
She underwent several rounds of radiation, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough, and last year she ended up having to undergo a double mastectomy. It was probably the most difficult thing I ever witnessed her suffer through, but luckily, she’s in remission and has been much better this year.
Now all I need to worry about is paying off the bills.
“Bayview Federal Bank,” I roll my eyes.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond grateful that they approved us for a loan to help with Ma’s hospital bills. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to provide us with enough money to cover the expenses of the cancer center as well. I know every bit helps, but it’s still challenging.
After Eli got arrested, I reached out to the bank and asked if they would be willing to give me an extension on the payments due. This would enable me to save enough money for his bail.
Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do for me given the circumstances, and at that point, we were already a month behind.
In the two years since Eli’s been in prison, I haven’t been able to get my family back out of that hole, not even once.
“Seaside Realty,” I grumble, shuffling the envelope to the back of the stack.
