Gas or Ass Page 20

  I made it to the driver’s seat. Maybe it was a joke. Or a misunderstanding.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “Hey. I don’t think you’ve ever called me. What’s up? Just passed you at the grocery store. Did you finally flood the engine?”

  “There’s a guy here. Says you owe him a refund. Because I didn’t fuck him.”

  “Shit.”

  My heart lurched. “Colt, say it’s not true.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Shelby. Of course it’s true.”

  I eyed the store windows. Pork loin was on sale for three-ninety-nine a pound. “What do they pay?”

  “The full monte is five hundred bucks. That’s racing and losing, so they gotta do oral. Some guys like giving head, but their girls won’t let them. Can you believe it? A few do try to win. They want the blowjob. And then they come back around later to fuck. The ones who don’t race are the dudes who don’t eat cat, see? They pay two-fifty. For you. The going price for Caroline had dropped a bit by the time you showed up. Guys don’t wanna fuck the same whore any more than they wanna fuck their wives or girlfriends night after night.”

  His casual tone was tearing me up. “Colt, she’s your sister.”

  “Half-sister. And I don’t do her shit. The whole thing was Brandon’s idea. Once Dad married Macy and you turned out to be half-hot, I figured, why not?”

  “Why not get your sister to turn tricks?” I screeched.

  “You ain’t my sister. Look, Shelby, I told you from jump street, gas or ass. That’s how it is. Brandon uses his money on Caroline. He buys her shit like that damn car, and tells her the stuff’s from her dad. Makes her feel good. And, it wasn’t like I had to beg to get you to put out, now did I? Told you you were pretty once or twice. I didn’t have to lie about that. And I told you how it’d be if we hooked up. The only thing you didn’t know about was the money. That money bought gas. You used plenty of gas at the fairgrounds. I saw to it you had a full tank every Friday and I topped off your tank on Saturday, if you raced on Friday. If you’d asked, I’d have bought you gas to get to school and back. But, oh, that’s right. In addition to the fucking car, Dad went and gave you a credit card for gas, so I guess that’s somehow a damn strike against me, huh?”

  “Why do I feel like I just found a condom under my pillow and you’re telling me I ordered a balloon bouquet?”

  “Caine tried to stop me at first, but before you decide he’s a fucking saint, hear me out. Macy and Dad came by the house on Sunday after one of their little weekend getaways. Told us they were getting married. Macy shows us this picture of you, right? Then Dad explains to Caine that he’s gotta move out of the room he’s lived in for most of his goddamn life. So Caine’s fucking pissed. He leaves those speakers and he puts a camera in one. Takes pictures in the dark. But, every time you put your fingers in your pussy, it was my name on your lips, wasn’t it? Pissed him off, but he still had a thing for you. So that night you cried, he was ready to fight me if I made you stay. Then, Dad gave you his car. After that, he didn’t give a shit what I did to you.”

  I dragged my tongue over my lips, but the motion had no effect. They were still dry. “So, you hid the letter from Converse to keep me here? So you could keep your little scam going?”

  “Nah. I did that so Dad didn’t go fucking stupid and give up half his pay to keep you in some fancy private school. Macy’s against it and she’s talked him into backing her plan, but that bastard always wanted a girl. He used to threaten to take Caroline away from Robyn. But that would just put her fat, drunk ass on our doorstep, so thank God, we got him talked out of that. He blindsided us with you, but I’ll be goddamned if you’re gonna bat your eyelashes and have him cough up big bucks so you can go to Spartanburg and fuck rich guys. Then you’d either marry one, or graduate. Either way, you’d decide you’re too good to spit in his direction.”

  I hung up. My first thought was to go talk to Caroline. But I strangled that idea before it took hold. Either she’d be hurt because she thought I was lying, or she’d be hurt because she’d sense I wasn’t. She’d been hurt enough. If she found out, it wouldn’t come from me. She’d already quit the drag racing anyway. What was done couldn’t be undone.

  The worst part, as far as she was concerned, was hearing that her father hadn’t given her that car. I ached for her, whenever she found out. How many crushing disappointments could one person bear before they... “Turn into a drunk or worse?” The windshield had no response.

  I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t fight all of her battles, not this one, for sure. I couldn’t even fight this one for myself.

  I wanted to come out swinging. I wanted Colt to bleed. I wanted to crush him, to dance on the broken pieces of his body. Had I been stupid? Absolutely. I’d known everything happened too damn fast. But I’d felt flattered by his attention, so I convinced myself every word he said was true. Wasn’t that how every woman in the world got her heart broken? We were programmed practically from birth to believe in the fairy tale, when all we had to do was look around to see there were way more frogs than princes.

  I’d known all along that he’d break my heart. I’d even picked him to be the first. I’d just underestimated how damn good he’d be at the job. Even though I fought my feelings for him and tried to walk away, he’d managed to grind me into dust. I had no idea how to fight back.

  The last place I wanted to go was home. Not home—Dale’s house. I thought about telling Dale, or even Mom, but what would that accomplish? I’d have to be straight about my part in the mess, and once I did that, the outcome was a tossup.

  Even if Dale beat him bloody, that wasn’t me hurting Colt. And the only thing I was certain of was that it had to come from me when he felt the burn.

  I did the only thing left. I cranked the car. I put the top down. I broke every speed limit on the way back. After all, according to Caine, I’d never get a speeding ticket in this town, after I screwed the sheriff so he’d let them hold their illegal races. I shot past the turn that led to the house and roared past the school. I only turned back at the county line because—why else? I was almost out of gas.

  The Corvette was gone when I pulled down the driveway, to my relief, and so was the Mustang. I swung into the carport and gathered up the bags. Cursing the person who invented the plastic ones because they hurt my wrists, I staggered up the basement steps.

  Mom met me at the top. There was something about her eyes that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck, but she took half the bags without comment. I trailed her to the kitchen. “They were out of standing rib roast. Might want to try a different store.”

  She didn’t respond and began to put the groceries away. For once, I hung out in the kitchen, because there was a spy camera in my room. When she went to her room for the night, I’d hunt the damn thing and flush it down the toilet.

  She opened the cabinet over the refrigerator. I blinked when she pulled down a bottle of bourbon. She splashed a tea glass half full and took a sip. Setting the glass down, she turned to face me. “Now, let’s talk about the inappropriate things you’ve been saying to Colt.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She picked her iPhone off the counter and poked a few buttons. “If this wasn’t your voice, Shelby, I’d have slapped that boy’s face and called him a liar. But it is your voice.”

  To my horror, my voice came from the speaker.

  “I want my big brother to—”

  Colt, you lowlife bastard. “Turn it off.”

  She pressed another button and the sound died, mid-word, but it was a dirty word. My cheeks ignited. She lifted the glass and took another sip. She didn’t even shudder, and I wondered how long she’d been drinking straight liquor.

  “Explain. Tell me why I cannot hold my head up in my own house, Shelby. Please make me understand why I can’t look either of my stepsons in the eye, ever again. I mean, was moving in the middle of the year so damn hard on you that you had to go and ruin my life? Humiliate me?�
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  Maybe it was time to tell the truth. “Listen, don’t think for a minute that Colt’s the innocent here. I said those things, but what’s not on his little audio clip is him, saying them first and forcing me to repeat them.”

  “Forcing you? How did he do that?”

  I eyed the bottle of bourbon, wondering how much she’d had and if she’d mind if I took a drink. “He wouldn’t let me climax unless I said them.”

  She clapped a hand over her heart. “So, you admit you had sex with Colt?”

  “And Caine.”

  “Shelby how could you? They’re your brothers!”

  “When Queen Elizabeth dies, that horsy woman, Camilla, will be the Queen of England. Except, not one soul believes that she should be the queen. The people of England want Diana, even though she’s dead. So, the Queen decided that if ever Prince Charles takes the throne, Camilla won’t get the title. She’ll be Princess something or other.” She and I used to talk about Princess Diana all the time. Another woman who found out that the fairy tale was bullshit.

  Like Mom, only Mom needed to believe so badly that she’d put my needs second, and now, that’d turned to shit, so everything had to be my fault, because she had to believe in her prince and princelings.

  She took a big drink. “What does any of that have to do with your reprehensible behavior?”

  “It means, you might see us as brothers and sister, but we don’t see it that way. You want me to be Princess Diana, but in reality, I’m Camilla. The princess no one wants, at least, that’s how Colt sees it. We were just young adults, thrown together without any damn regard for how we felt about it, and he said Caine felt the same way. I was attracted to Colt. I thought he was attracted to me. We acted on it. No one got betrayed but me.”

  “He betrayed you by giving me this sound clip?”

  “That’s one way.”

  “Shelby, I can’t handle any more nasty surprises. Whatever else there is to know, tell me now.”

  My need to hurt Colt surged inside me. How dare that bastard send her that audio clip? How long ago had he started to prepare for the day I found out he turned me into a whore for gas money?

  “Colt had me fuck some other guys. He took money from them that I knew nothing about until today. Let me guess. He sent that clip to you about an hour ago? That would’ve been just after I told him that someone I failed to screw wanted a refund.”

  She drained the glass. “Get your keys. I shouldn’t drive.”

  “Where do you think we’re going?”

  “To the sheriff’s department. If what you say is true, then Colt should be in jail, so I want you to tell this story to the sheriff. If you’re lying, then... well, young lady these are some serious accusations. You’d better not be lying.”

  It didn’t take a genius to see that Sherriff Mack Brown had no choice but to tell my mother I was delusional.

  If it takes me until my dying day, I’m going to burn his ass. “I lied. Colt’s the innocent. I said those things trying to get him to screw me. But he refused, since he’s such an honorable guy and all. I made life hell for him with my inappropriate behavior. Then, when he couldn’t take it any more, he told you and I couldn’t handle that, so I lied.”

  She came from behind the bar. I saw the blow coming, but didn’t flinch when she struck me across the cheek. “May I be excused?” Without waiting for her answer, I grabbed my purse and ran to my room.

  Grabbing my desk chair, I dragged it around the bed. The first speaker I ripped the cover off held only one of those conical things, but then, I spied the blinking red light. I smiled, a wide, fake smile, and jerked the small device free. Using a shoe heel, I smashed it to bits and raked them into the trashcan.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Dale, don’t.” No giggle accompanied Mom’s words. The bed frame didn’t start to squeak. My stepfather said something but I couldn’t hear the words. His tone said it all. He wasn’t happy to be denied his happy ending.

  Well, fuck me, who is? “Life ain’t fair, remember?” I whispered.

  An hour went by, then two. I threw the covers back and picked up my book bag. That kid who had a crush on Caroline had found it, and returned it to me the day Dale threatened Coach Tindall. Maybe he’d turn out to be her prince.

  Maybe pigs really can fly.

  My laptop was inside, and as many changes of clothing as I could roll and stuff in there. Toiletries spilled from my purse when I dug around for the key to the Barracuda.

  I had on three layers of clothing, but I grabbed a hoodie. The early morning air sent a chill down the back of my neck when I slid the glass door open in the basement.

  The car gleamed under a fresh coat of wax. I had to do something to avoid my mother these last few miserable days.

  I dragged my fingers across the hood. “Bye.” Why had I never named her? “I’ll miss you.” Of all the things I had to leave behind, walking away from the car hurt the worst, but I couldn’t understand why that was so. The Barracuda had only made a bad situation worse. Anyway, it wasn’t mine. I laid the key ring on the seat and set my cell phone beside it, on top of Dale’s credit card. The ‘Cuda emblem reminded me of Caroline. The car reminded me of winning, when I’d never won much, I supposed.

  You call that winning?

  I paused at the back of the Corvette. There was sugar in the kitchen. I could pour some in his tank, but why bother?

  The driveway had never seemed steeper. The hike to the paved road seemed to take forever, but once I reached the asphalt, the going got easier. I walked all the way to the end of the road. The station at the corner was dark, but the sun was coming up. I needed a ride. Jogging to the far side of the highway, I picked up my pace, but turned to stick out my thumb every time I heard a car approaching.

  I’d walked perhaps a mile when a baby blue Jeep Wrangler slowed. The driver wrestled to pull the zipper down on the plastic windows that came standard on a ragtop. “You need a ride somewhere?” he yelled through the small opening he managed to make.

  “I’m headed south. Down I-85.”

  “Yeah? Me, too. Hop in.” I couldn’t see his eyes. Though the sun was barely up, he wore shades.

  The guy looked about twenty-five, give or take. His hair was red, but not as dark as mine. His beard was another whole shade lighter, almost orange. Freckles covered what I could see of his nose and cheeks. He didn’t look like an axe murderer, but then again, did Colt look like a pimp?

  I gripped the handle and opened the door. “How far down 85 you headed?”

  “Atlanta.”

  “Works for me.” I swung my bag inside and climbed into the seat. Though he leaned back, I caught a glimpse of the rockers sewn to the back of his leather vest. At least, that’s what they called the patches that named his motorcycle club on Sons of Anarchy.

  He let out the clutch and swerved onto the pavement. “You got a name?”

  “Shelby.”

  “I’m Steve.”

  “Hi.” I smiled. He smiled and I turned away to hook my seatbelt. Go faster. Traffic picked up by the time we passed the road that led to the cigarette plant. He cursed a couple of drivers near UNCC.

  I hoped he’d turn on the radio, but he asked, “So, you into bikes?”

  I shook my head. “I’m more of a car person.”

  A few miles later, he tried again. “You into sports at all? Football? Baseball?”

  “Racing.” Once I’d laughed when people called racing a sport. But I supposed I wasn’t that person anymore.

  “NASCAR?”

  I shook my head. “More like drag racing. Quarter mile stuff. Straight track.”

  “Yeah? Some of the kids I used to hang with were into that. I never had nothin’ worth running. Plus, when the cops started confiscatin’ cars, it kinda sucked all the fun out of racin’.”

  “You got that right.”

  We finally reached the interstate. He merged into the morning rush hour traffic.

  “So, where you headed?”
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  “I’ll let you know. Not going as far as Atlanta.”

  He nodded, but he kept eyeing me, especially when he thought I wasn’t looking.

  I closed my eyes. “Just say it.”

  “So, you look like the kind of girl who knows the score. Gas or ass?”

  I didn’t open my eyes. “Look, Steve. I’m all out of cash. I get that cars don’t run for free. But, I’m done paying up front. You get me close to my destination, I’ll make this worth your while. Not before, okay?”

  He nodded. The sidelong looks ceased. So did the pretense at conversation.

  We made it through Charlotte. The exit for Kings Mountain went by, then we crossed the state line. I began to breathe easier, for no particular reason. My mother would sleep until noon. The guys wouldn’t look in on me. Since I’d been lucky enough to get picked up right away, I’d be at my destination before anyone knew I was gone.

  When I spied the sign for my exit, I sat up straight. “Get off here. This road leads to a traffic circle. There’s gas stations and stuff around. We can find a spot to park. Then, you can get right back on the interstate.”

  I supposed I could jump out and run, but this seemed a fitting end to a terrible chapter of my life. The last time any man would ever get away with forcing his knuckle dragging, backwoods mentality on me. “Gas or ass” had nothing to do with transportation and everything to do with exploitation.

  He eased onto the exit ramp without comment. At the circle, I guided him in the opposite direction from my destination. He parked in front of a closed storefront that’d once sold day-old bread, judging by the broken plastic sign.

  “Got a condom?”

  He scratched his chin. “Nope. Wasn’t looking to get lucky.”

  I opened my purse and removed a bottle of lotion and a small pack of tissues. “Hand job it is, then.”

  He leaned back and lifted off the seat to unzip his pants. I squirted the lotion into my palm, and swore yet again, that one day, I’d find a way to pay Colt back.

  His cock wasn’t hard, but I got him up. I had no idea what he got out of this, since he didn’t seem to be into me, but I stroked and he thrust and eventually, he moaned and I slapped the tissue over the head of his cock.