With All My Heart - Emilia Finn Page 0,2
think of that pretty girl at the finish line. That’ll get you there faster.”
“Don’t call her pretty!” I slam my fist into his chest. “You shouldn’t know. You shouldn’t be looking!”
He barks out a laugh. “A pretty girl’s a pretty girl, Bry. There’s no denying it. She ain’t yours yet, and even if she does say yes–”
“When, asshole. When she says yes, not if.”
He scoffs. “When she says yes, you can’t stop the rest of us from looking.” He skips away on a weak leg. “A guy’s gonna look, Kincaid. He just can’t touch.”
“You don’t get to look! You’re my best friend. Where’s the fuckin’ respect?”
“Those yuppies, man.” He shakes his head like a moron. “They ruined everything the minute they started handing over twenties for a meal.”
“Kincaid!” The guys wave me toward the line. “Get your car ready. It’s almost time.”
Four hours later, I lay awake in the back seat of my soft-top Mustang 5.0, and stare up at the stars. As Bryan Adams hums through my speakers and out into the quiet street, I tap my boot against the door frame.
Victorious from my race, with a couple of twenties in my pocket to refill the tank of gas I used and buy a hot meal on the side, I count stars and wonder which ball of light sits directly above Nelly’s rundown ranch six blocks away.
I want to take her out of there. Put her up in a pretty house.
Fuck her until we’re crippled.
Right on cue, the pay phone rings and snuffs my victory from a moment ago. Winning a race is easy. I do it three, sometimes four nights a week. A couple times on weekends. A few times in a single day at the big race meets.
Racing is easy.
Getting her to make those calls, though. That’s a special kinda victory.
Every night, she rings. Every night, she makes sure I’m the last thing on her mind before she sleeps.
If she’d just say yes, I could be the first thing on her mind when she woke, too.
Each night, she lets it ring three times, chickens out, hangs up, and pretends she’s not crying out for me.
I act like I’m in charge. I let her think I’m suave as shit, cocky to a fault, arrogance personified, but I need her to come to me. To make it right – to take what’s fundamentally mine, but on the surface, belongs to someone else – then she needs to come to me.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times.
My heart pounds with exhilaration when I think tonight might be my night; when I think it’ll ring a fourth time and make all my dreams come true, but just like every night, the shrilling turns silent and the cicadas remind me I’m a loser.
She’s not ready for me yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Chantelle
I walk through the front door after school and stop at the sight of my dad leaning on the kitchen counter. In his work overalls, one shoulder strap hanging loose, grease on his back pockets, and too-long oily brown hair hanging in his eyes, he flicks through the mail and hums dangerously.
Electricity; too fucking expensive.
Grocery receipts; we eat too much.
Phone… my heart trips as he scans the bill.
I gamble every single night when I hide under the covers and twirl the stretched-to-capacity phone cord around my finger. The day Bryan Kincaid answers his phone is the day his number will show up on our bill. That’s the day my dad takes his leather belt to the backs of my legs and reminds me who’s in charge.
“Afternoon, Daddy.”
“Pumpkin.” He takes me in a rough side hug and drops a kiss on the top of my head. He’s hugging, which means the bill’s fine for today. “How was school?”
“It was good. Got an A in math.”
“That’s my girl.” He smiles and shows off a set of coffee stained teeth and bright green eyes. “I’m proud of you. You’re the smartest person I know, sweetheart.”
Not so smart.
I still come back to this rundown house every day, even knowing he’ll beat me if I speak out of turn or burn his dinner.
Not so smart.
I want to jump into Bryan Kincaid’s hotted up car and go for a lap around Piper’s Lane.
I don’t know which makes me stupider.
“You still seeing that boy?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He nods and distractedly folds the phone bill. “Good. He’s a good boy from a good family. You’re a smart girl, Pumpkin. Stay smart.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He smacks my backside and sends me moving toward the fridge. “What’s