“We joyride.”
I put my foot on the brake, and press a button on the console, causing the Lambo to start with an intoxicating purr. The car reverberates with power as I put it into gear.
“I love it when she talks dirty to me,” I laugh, referring to the glorious roar of the motor.
I put the car in reverse and back out. I put her into first gear, her mechanisms switching flawlessly and slowly pull out of the garage. As soon as we are out of the garage, I throw her into the next gear, and let her loose.
Lip grabs onto the door as we are thrown into our seats from the horsepower.
“I think the plan is not to draw attention to ourselves,” Lip bitches, making me roll my eyes.
I turn the wheel, my foot pushing on the accelerator as we slide around a corner as if we were on ice.
“What fun is that?” I chuckle.
We race past a cop sitting in an alleyway. Looking in my rearview mirror, I notice him pulling out, turning his lights on, but by the time his car is straightened out to take the chase, we are long gone.
“Woooo!” Lip yells as we fly onto the freeway toward Cora’s drop location.
“How long have you been doing this?” Lip questions.
“I’ve been stealing cars since I was a kid,” I inform, looking in the rearview mirror for any boys in blue, but there is nothing.
“Ever get caught?” he asks, running his hand over the console.
“Couple times when I was younger, got thrown in juvie, but all that did was teach me how to get better at stealing cars,” I laugh, pulling onto a side road.
I pull up to the dock, with a huge boat parked next to it, and get out.
“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint. You never do,” Cora chimes, climbing out of a black BMW, buttoning up her suit jacket. Her hair, short and curly, flutters with the wind. Her porcelain skin illuminates in the night as she walks toward us, her heels clicking against the broken asphalt.
“Who’s this?” she questions, tilting her pointed chin toward Lip.
“This is Lip,” I inform, shutting the door to the Lambo.
“Here’s your cut,” she states. One of the guys standing behind her tosses me a yellow envelope.
I open it eyeing a large sum of cash.
“One of my men botched this boost, and is sitting in jail, the car wrecked. I owe you one for your eager participation on such a short notice, Bobby,” she remarks, her voice strong and sure.
I nod, dipping my hand into the envelope pulling out half the cash.
“Yeah, I haven’t heard from you in a while,” I state, walking around the car toward Lip.
“I only use my good resources when I have to. My other men are not as good at getting the job done, but cheaper,” she answers, crossing her arms. I hand Lip half the cash, and close the envelope.
The guy with his hair braided down his back whispers in Cora’s ear, making her nod.
“I have to go, but I’ll be in touch, Bobby,” Cora warns, her lips quirking into a smirk.
“So, how do we get home?” Lip asks, looking around him.
“You can take one of the junkers off the lot,” the bodyguard with the long hair suggests, pointing toward a broken down Neon, the paint nothing but primer.
“It ain’t no Lambo,” Lip chuckles.
We make our way toward the car as I stuff the envelope in my back pocket.
“Please tell me you banged that broad,” Lip laughs.
“Once. She’s just as uptight in the sack as she seems outside of it,” I inform, getting into the passenger side of the car.
“Gee, thanks for letting me drive something tonight,” Lip laughs, climbing behind the wheel.
“What can I say, I’m a generous kind of guy,” I shrug, sliding into the ripped passenger seat.
8
Jessica
It’s been three days since I last saw Bobby. I usually don’t count the days in between seeing him, but every day since, I have thought about him, about the sex we had in my room. When I go to bed at night, I smell him, his manliness lingering on my blankets. I’m glad he is giving me space, letting me cope with the progress I’ve made. Being on top was scary on so many levels. Just thinking about it makes my body tingle and my head dizzy. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself.
“Do you hear me talking to you, Jessica?” Travis hissed from beneath me. I gritted my teeth in anger, my neck aching painfully as he gripped my neck.
“I am in control. Not you,” he grunted, taking his hands from my throat to my thighs, pinching incredibly hard. I yelped, trying to grab at his hands to stop the piercing pain riddling up my thighs, only to find my wrists jolted against the handcuffs. I looked down at Travis, my eyes welling up with tears at how broken I was.
“Don’t look at me. Look at the wall,” Travis ordered, replacing his hands around my throat as he drilled into me hard.
I peel my eyes open and gasp as the hard memories vanish. Sometimes they’re hard to snap out of they feel so real.