The black leather bucket seat gleams under me. I glance around, taking in the interior—the rear bench seat, the center console with floor shifter. It’s all so cool in a very retro way.
Darko slips in the passenger seat.
My fists close over the thin sixties era steering wheel. It feels good in my hands as I gaze at the stylish dash with its four round gauges.
“Fire her up,” Darko orders, his elbow out the window, his hand on the top of the frame.
I turn the key and the engine thunders to life, rumbling through the frame and up the seat through my body. I can’t hold back the giggle of excitement.
Darko’s white teeth flash at my enthusiasm. “Let’s buzz the gut.”
I know exactly what he means; he wants me to take it through the main drag of town, and I can’t wait. I close my hand over the shifter and put it in gear. We pull out onto the highway, gravel flying as I hit the gas. The rubber grabs the pavement and we surge forward. Oh, my God, I’m in love.
I glance down at the dashboard. “Tell me you upgraded the radio in this thing. I need some rock and roll.”
Darko bellows out a laugh as we fly down the highway.
Twenty minutes later, we pull back in the garage, and I put it in park.
Darko looks over at me. “Price is thirty-eight thousand. You said you’ve got twelve saved up. I’ll work payments out with you for the balance. Five hundred a month until it’s paid off, and I won’t charge you interest. That’s the best family deal I can give you, Lola.”
It’s a good deal, and I don’t hesitate to take it. “Deal.”
“You got the money for me?”
“You want cash?” I lift a brow. Surely he’s joking.
“You bank with Western Federal. Same as me, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Go transfer the funds to my account. I’ll text you the number. When it shows up, I’ll give you the keys.”
“You have trust issues, Darko.”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
I grin. “Touché.”
We climb out, and I come around the car. I can’t help giving him a hug. He’s making my dream come true, and I didn’t have to ask my father for help or to cosign a loan. “Thank you, Darko.”
“Get out of here. I’ve got work to do, girl.”
His voice is gruff, but I hear the emotion under the surface. He’s my father’s age and has been like an uncle to me since I was little. I squeeze him again, and then dash to my car. I look in my rearview as I pull out, and see him watching me with a smile.
My phone dings with Darko’s text as I walk through the doors of the bank and approach a teller. I know this girl. She’s an old friend from high school.
“Hey, Carla.”
“Hi, Lola. How are you?”
“Great.” I smile and give her my account number along with my ID. “I’d like to transfer twelve thousand from my account to this other Western Federal account.” I scribble the number down on a piece of paper, along with the name on the account.
“Sure. I can do that for you.” She takes the information.
I grin and can’t help leaning forward to whisper, “I’m buying the car of my dreams.”
She smiles back. “This is a big day, then.”
She taps on her keyboard, and I watch the smile fade from her face. She frowns.
“Um, Lola, there’s only forty-four dollars in your account.”
My stomach drops. “What? There was over twelve thousand dollars. I just transferred it out of my savings account last week.” Except for the small stash of cash I have at home, it’s every cent I have.
She nods. “I see the transfer from your savings—that went through—but then there was a check written on the account.” She taps on the keyboard some more and swivels the screen so I can see.
I lean over the counter to peer at the image of the check. It’s made out to Richard Garrison Rockingham III, my brother whom we all call Trez. My name is signed at the bottom in his handwriting. Oh my God. I’m going to kill him.
Carla gives me a stricken look. “That’s your signature, right?”
If I say no, he’ll be in a shitload of legal trouble. “Oh, sure. I just forgot I already wrote him a check. I thought he was ripping it up. He’d asked me to just transfer the money. You know, so he wouldn’t have to wait for the check to