Gas or Ass (17 page)

“Is that so?” His eyes were on the screen. He slid a hand along his side and pulled my clipboard from underneath him. “What’s this?”

My cheeks heated. “Ah, they showed me the fat black stripe they wanna put on the sides. I don’t like it, so I drew something I liked better.” His eyes were still on my sketch, a wide white stripe that broke apart into floating feathers. “Please, don’t let ‘em put those graphics on that car, Dale. They’re just... fugly.”

“Dunno what makes either of ‘em think it’s up to them,” was his only reply, but he sat the clipboard on the side table, ignoring my outstretched hand.

The side door squealed open. Caine stepped through the door, gripping the handles of one cooler. A second cooler perched on top.

“She’s not done with that, Dad. She’s still gotta draw that chicken that goes on the hood.”

Dale frowned. “Chicken?”

Caine laughed. “Where the hell else are those feathers comin’ from?” I showed him my middle finger. He turned for the kitchen. Colt came through the door with suitcases in both hands and a bag over each arm. “Take those to Macy,” Dale ordered. “Caine, drain the coolers.”

“Already did that. Outside,” Caine responded.

“Then you can put the ‘Cuda in the trailer.”

Caine peered beneath the cabinets, but Dale turned away. With a shrug, my stepbrother stalked outside again. Dale turned the remote over in hand, tapping the edge on his thigh.

“Shelby, I owe you an apology. I should never have taken your mama away on your birthday. I’m real sorry about that, sweetheart.”

I put my feet on the table, knowing that when Mom came through, she’d fuss. “Listen, Dale, I had an okay birthday. Better than okay, actually. I just didn’t know how to tell Mom. She’ll freak out when she hears what I did to celebrate.”

He removed the baseball cap and hung it over the arm of the recliner. His eyes were steady on my face. “And what was that?”

“Well, I think I tarnished the Hannah family rep with my 12.92 at the fairgrounds.”

It took him a second to process what I’d said. His brows went up and slowly, he started to grin. “You ran a thirteen-second quarter mile? In what?”

“Colt let me drive my namesake.” I returned his smile. “But Mom will have a duck when she finds out I went drag racing. I need your help there, because, well, I wanna go again.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “How many times did you choke it down?”

“I don’t know what that means,” I confessed.

“She never choked it down.” Colt strolled into the room. “She’s what you might call an idiot savant. No damn clue what she’s doin’, but she’s got good instincts on the clutch. We thought she’d never get it off the line, but she fooled us.” He laughed. “Had to drag her outta there, kickin’ and screamin’. Girl thinks gas is free.”

“Help your brother load the ‘Cuda onto the trailer. I’m gonna take it to the shop. Steam clean the engine and undercarriage. And see what I can do about that missin’ hose.”

He turned toward me again after Colt went outside. “Well, can’t have my buddies ribbing me because my daughter can’t do better than a thirteen-second quarter mile, now can I?”

I shook my head and made my eyes round. “No, they’d never let you live it down. Think of your pride, Dale.” I smirked and he grinned.

“Let me guess. Y’all were headed to the track tonight, and we messed up your plans by coming home early?”

I nodded.

“I ‘spect I can find somethin’ to keep Macy busy.” He winked, then hit a button on the remote. The television flared to life, but I sensed I’d nailed down a much-needed ally.

The meal didn’t take long to prepare. Colt scowled at his plate. “Lotta work for a little bit of meat.”

I reached for his largest crab leg. “Let me save you the trouble.”

He grabbed my wrist. “Drop it, Red. Put your hand in my plate again, and I’ll throw you off the deck.”

Mom laughed, looking from me to Colt to Caine to Dale with shining eyes. “They sound like they were raised together, Dale.”

“Tried to tell ya.” Dale picked up a gigantic crab claw in one hand and a pair of channel locks in the other, scowling from one to the other. “Happy birthday, Shelby. Next year, could you ask for steak?”

M
om stood between the side door and me, scowling at the small overnight bag in my hand. “We never discussed this, Shelby.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” I shifted the bag to the other hand and sighed. “I’m not going to turn tricks on a roadside somewhere. It’s a scholarship competition. Two nights on campus, a tour, and we take the test. Be back Sunday afternoon.”

“But, I don’t even know where this school is, Shelby. You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“One more time, from the top.” I knew my attitude left a lot to be desired, but I feared that if I’d given her time to process this trip, she’d have vetoed it. Not to mention, I’d realized after Caine’s little speech about Colt’s mother, that if she talked to Dale about the proposed trip, he might decide I didn’t need to hang out with Caroline.

“Constance College, Spartanburg, South Carolina. It’s about two hours from here, straight down I-85. An all-women’s college, for heaven’s sake. If I do well on the test, I could win an all-expense-paid, four-year scholarship. I did tell you.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. “Told you my guidance counselor asked me to try out for this because of my grades. Told you I had a ride with Caroline. Who’s been sitting in the driveway for four minutes now.”

“Why can’t she come in?” Mom looked over her shoulder. “I’d like to at least meet the person you’re leaving with.”

“Uh, awkward. Colt’s mama is her mother. She’s not being rude, Mom. She just wants to avoid getting the second degree from her mom about
you
. Put yourself in her shoes for a minute. What kind of fifth degree would you give me if Dad suddenly showed up with a wife and kid and I hung out with that kid?”

Mentioning Dale’s fucked-up past and my absent sperm donor trumped her motherly concerns. She turned to peer though the door, but the dark tint Brandon had installed on Caroline’s windows prevented her from seeing much. I surged toward the door, pausing to put an arm around her neck. “See you Sunday.”

***

T
he following evening, Caroline lounged on the single bed that was positioned foot-to-foot with mine, leaving just enough space to enter the room. Jerking a rolled pillow from underneath her head, she scowled at the delicate green-and-white striped cotton, and the cranberry initials embroidered in a circle. “This girl has an identity crisis.” Dropping the pillow, she swung her feet over the side of the bed, sliding the closet door open.

“Caroline, maybe you shouldn’t mess around in her closet.” I wasn’t happy with the way my friend put her shoes on the expensive spread. The coverlet matched the pillow, right down the monogram in the center. The ensemble must’ve cost a fortune. I thought it was gorgeous and had been trying to figure out if I could duplicate the effect on a budget for my dorm room.

“Check this out, Shelby.” She held up a khaki skirt in one hand and a wool sweater in the other. The same initials, in different fonts, peered back at me from both garments. “Is she afraid all her fancy friends at this stuck-up place will steal her clothes?”

“You don’t like this school?”

Caroline shoved the hangars onto the rod and slid the door closed. She fell onto the bed and crossed her legs. “This,”—she swept a gaze around the narrow room—“is my idea of Hell on Earth. I can’t imagine spending four months, let alone four years, caged up with this bunch of fake-ass people.”

The test was behind us now. I’d loved every minute of the trip. The students who’d been assigned to our group as guides were from all over the Southeast, and though they did dress a bit homogenously, I’d decided I’d kill to go to school here.

“Besides, what’s up with the no-guys rule? I mean, it’s 2015, for Christ’s sake.”

I laughed. “You’ve got a guy. I’d think Brandon would be less inclined to bitch if you came here.”

“Oh, my God.” She narrowed her eyes on my face. “They converted you with all their Kum-Ba-Ya bullshit, didn’t they?” We’d just come from a closing ceremony, held in a charming cabin on campus.

I held up crossed fingers. “I hope I did well on that test. Winning a scholarship is the only way I could afford to come.”

She scanned the small room again. “I doubt a single soul here has ever watched a NASCAR race. They’re gonna laugh at your clothes, Shelby, and every other thing about you that makes you great.” Her expression became troubled. “This is where all the mean girls go after high school, girl. In fact, I bet this is a genuine mean girl factory.”

“Oh, come on,” I protested, not liking the divide I sensed growing between us since we’d set foot on campus. “The girls we’ve met have been really nice, Caroline.” Freshman students were assigned to our small group of scholarship contestants. They’d knocked themselves out to show us around and tell us why they loved going to school here. I was frankly enchanted. The college had the air of an ivy-league school, with buildings built in the late 1800s standing beside more modern ones. The small student body seemed to foster a closeness that was absent from my single other campus visit, a day trip to UNCC. I hadn’t expected the no-male policy to be so appealing, but not having to keep up appearances for male students felt downright liberating.

She sniffed. “Charity cases. Bet you a dollar, the girls whose daddies can just write a check for the tuition here wouldn’t spit on the ones we’ve met. Just look at this room.”

I knew what she meant. The bed I’d chosen had a comforter I could buy at any Walmart. The closet at my side was filled with clothing similar to my own. Nothing on this side of the room had a monogram. The distinction wasn’t a subtle one. Half of the room screamed of pennies spent at discount stores. The other half was boutique-beautiful, right down to the monogrammed towels in the top of the closet and the pencil holder on desk that matched the bedspread.

“Now, this pair, they got assigned together off some random list. But I bet come next year, these two move into new dorms with new roommates and never speak again. Besides, I thought you had your heart set on that art program at UNC-Wilmington.”

“Mom’s convinced going to college at the beach is just code for naked males roaming campus.”

Carline started to giggle. “Guess she’s not paying attention to what’s happening under her nose, huh?”

I shook my head and picked at a loose thread on the comforter. “How do you and Brandon pull that off?”

She tossed the roll pillow into the air, caught it, and hugged it to her chest. “She don’t care. Brandon sleeps in my room. Has for a while now. She was too drunk to notice at first. Then, when she realized what was going on, she just poured an extra drink and cried to her BFF about being a failure as a mom.” Her voice had a thin note that made me look up in fear I’d find her crying. Only the gleam in her eyes betrayed her emotions. “Which everyone already knew. She just sobered up long enough to figure it out. Scared her so bad, she hasn’t been sober since.”

“Does she ever see Colt?”

Her blonde hair swung, hiding her face when she shook her head. “Nah. I mean, I reckon they might run into each other, if she ever went anywhere. But she handed him off to Dale and never looked back.”

“Why can’t you live with your dad?”

Her shoulders moved up and down. She kept her eyes fixed on the monogram. “He got himself a real family after he got rid of her. Did you know, when he was Rookie of the Year, she threw up all over him at his banquet, right before his speech?”

The hopelessness in her eyes wrenched my heart. “No.”

“You can watch it on You Tube. Kids used to watch that video in class. It’s had millions of hits, and I bet you, half came from my classmates. All my life, they’ve teased me about her, like I got any control over what she does. At least, after Brandon’s dad married her, he makes sure there’s food in the house. I just dread the day he gets fed up with her shit and leaves, you know?”

I had to look away from the pain in her eyes. I tried, and failed, to decide if a well-off father who knew what kind of hell she lived in, and who only bothered to send the occasional, over-the-top gift, was better than mine, who had no idea whether I’d been born or aborted.

But her choice to have sex with whomever Brandon chose made perfect sense, in light of her confession. And the cruelty of the girls at school fell into place, as well.

The take-no-prisoners world of blue-collar guys and illegal drag racing seemed far away from this place and I welcomed the spell the college wrought. This environment felt safe to me, more like something I could handle.

“Do you pull for him? Your dad, I mean? When he races?”

A hard look flashed over her face. “He and the dude who drives the Mello Yellow car got into a tangle down at Darlington, when Jamie Roark was a rookie. Ended with both of ‘em out of the race and a fist fight on pit row. That’s on You Tube, too. I been a fan of the forty-six car ever since. They became stone cold enemies. If one could put the other out of a race, girl, it was on, but Dad’s retired now.”