pick up Sunday.” On my way out of the kitchen, I stop and give my aunt a quick one-armed hug. “Thanks though, Aunty. See you after school.”
With that, I head out to the garage, and when I open the door, a thrill zings through me, looking at my new car. Setting my backpack on the rear seat and keeping my purse up front with me, I run my hands over the steering wheel, checking out the interior around me again. According to Cecily, most of it is original, but the one thing I’m glad isn’t is the sound system. My hand disappears into my purse, fishing for my phone. Finally finding it, I send Sunday a text that I’m on my way and connect the Bluetooth to the stereo she had updated last year.
The key slips smoothly into the ignition, and the engine catches with a growl, making goosebumps erupt along my arms and legs.
Has anyone ever had an orgasm from the sound of a car engine? Because I really think I could.
Opening the garage bay door with the remote Spry gave me, I put my new baby in gear and take a second to give thanks to the car gods for the sexy rumble surrounding me. My foot hits a little heavy on the gas, and I race down the long driveway, a massive grin on my face, and my anger and anxiety momentarily forgotten.
Sunday is waiting out front for me when I pull up to her house. She’s almost jumping up and down in excitement and wearing a grin very similar to mine.
“Dude! This is the hottest damn car,” she asserts as she throws her bag in the back and climbs into the front seat beside me. I waggle my eyebrows at her and rev the engine, and she bounces in her seat like a three-year-old on Santa’s knee. “Seriously, I know most people around here are all ‘blah, blah, look at my expensive brand new sports car’, but this,” she runs her hand over the black leather seat, “this is old school perfection. An OG badass ride.”
“OG, huh?” I laugh. “You listen to too much old school rap.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “OG or not, I still can’t believe Cecily gave it to me. She loves this car.”
“Yeah, well, she loves you more. And she knows you’ll take good care of it for her.” She reaches for my phone, turning it off and depositing it in my purse before setting up the Bluetooth on her phone to connect to the stereo.
“Hey! What the hell?”
“Shush. Old school playlist for an old school car, girlfriend,” she giggles above the opening of Joan Jett’s ‘I Hate Myself For Loving You’. She cranks up the volume, and both of us sing along as we head toward whatever's waiting for us at school, windows down, and the mild October breeze swirling around us.
We pull into the school parking lot with Aerosmith’s ‘Sweet Emotion’ playing. The music, coupled with the car’s throaty purr, has heads turning, including the small group leaning against one of the carved stone lions guarding the front steps. In a parking lot where BMWs, Porches, and Aston Martens with thumping sound systems are the norm, that’s no easy feat.
I find an empty spot, and Sunday gives me a reassuring smile as I wrestle with the anger and anxiety that have come flooding back and turned my stomach to a knotty mess. After a few deep breaths and encouraging words, we get out of the car and head for the school's front doors. Trying to stay as outwardly calm as possible, I focus on Aylie and Roxy as they break off from the rest of the Heirs and meet us at the bottom of the stairs.
Do not hyperventilate and pass out in front of Poe. No damsel in distress bullshit today.
“That certainly got his attention,” Roxy leans over and whispers in my ear.
We climb the wide stone steps to the entrance doors, and the weight of Poe’s stare as I pointedly ignore him is considerable. The roiling anger keeps my feet walking right on past him, even though there’s something else I feel hiding underneath it that I’m not willing to acknowledge.
The four of us girls walk through the doors and into the main hall, and I swear the groups of students milling around before class part like the Red Sea.
“Happy Tuesday, fuckers. We’re ba-a-a-ck,” Sunday singsongs quietly in my ear with a giggle.
As we make our