Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,22

the track manager. They went way back, ever since Donovan had first gotten his license and wanted to drive recklessly. Back then, it had been desert racing in the Mojave.

It was Bunny who’d guided and refined Donovan’s technique, had given him the skills he’d need to keep from driving off a cliff or rolling his wheels his first time out. He owed the guy a lot—probably his damn life, if he was being real.

How things had changed.

Now Bunny was the big boss and managing the track.

Donovan shut off his engine then climbed out, the hot air hitting him like a slap after exiting the air-conditioned car. He’d discarded the tie the moment he’d gotten in his car, but it was time to lose the jacket as well.

“Aww, come on.” Bunny laughed, his big belly shaking under the T-shirt that was perhaps one size too small. “Not gonna ride in the Armani today?”

“Good to see you too.”

Donovan grinned as he removed his cufflinks then rolled up his sleeves. In truth, he really was glad to see Bunny. Fucking ecstatic even. Bunny, the guys in the pit, the fucking pit boss—the goddamn maintenance crew—every single damn one of those men and women reminded him why it was good to be alive whenever he was at the track. These were genuine people, didn’t give a fuck about putting on a show and pretending to be something they weren’t.

Like Silver.

“Fuck.”

“Forget something? If you need a helmet, I’m sure there’s one here you can borrow.”

“Uh, no. I’ve got some other clothes and my helmet in the trunk.”

Clearly, he was going to have to take his fascination with Silver a couple steps further and at least try to get the man out of his system. Otherwise, he’d never be able to concentrate on anything.

After gathering his gear bag from the trunk, he followed Bunny into the locker area, his friend rambling on about the latest amateur racing gossip. Once Donovan’s architectural design hopes had been trampled, he’d briefly considered taking up pro racing. Then his mother had passed, and everything had changed. He didn’t begrudge her final wishes—he assumed she’d been looking out for him in case his father and brother squeezed him out—but who knew how different things might’ve been had he not been tethered to Fonterra and Associates at such a young age.

“Why don’t you go in and get changed. I’ve got a couple guys doing laps who should be finished in thirty or so.” Bunny glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. “If you want to try out that new Viper I was telling you about last time, it’s all tricked out. Or, you can stick with your Porsche.”

Donovan had an unusual arrangement with Bunny that allowed him to keep a car at the track for impromptu moments such as these. He paid Bunny a thousand dollar per month ‘storage’ fee to make sure he had a vehicle available at all times. Lately, he’d needed to avail himself quite often of the sweet release that racing the white Porsche offered him.

However, Donovan considered Bunny’s offer. He couldn’t deny the appeal of letting loose, going completely wild. He didn’t usually mess with muscle cars, not really his thing, but the idea was tempting.

“Yes, the Viper would be perfect, Bunny. Thanks.”

He gave Donovan a thumbs up then shuffled with pep out of the room. It was the Bunny version of trotting.

Donovan quickly changed into his fire suit, finding himself anxious to get out there as soon as possible. He wasn’t all that interested in whoever was doing laps, but he did want to look over the Dodge closely before he got behind the wheel. He finished lacing up his Porsche driving shoes, yanked on his gloves then grabbed his helmet.

Several of the regulars who either worked the pit or who liked to hang out and watch, called out greetings as he emerged from the locker room. The familiar noise of fast wheels, the easy, informal camaraderie, the laughter and shouts—even the fucking wind and non-stop dust—eased a portion of Donovan’s soul.

Donovan cradled his helmet in one arm, then put on his aviators to help eyes adjust to the bright sun after emerging from the darkness of the locker room. He meandered over to where Bunny stood guffawing with someone Donovan had never seen before.

“Hey, Donovan! This here’s Jarrod. I thought you’d like to meet him since he’s one of your type.”

Donovan coughed, choking on his own spit. Bunny regarded him with a wide, friendly