My dad.
Of course, I had already decided. I would go, provided the circumstances and price were right. But coming out of the corner fighting gave me leverage to get more. Because if I didn’t go, what use would Michael make of my absence? If I was with him, I could control it. Could control the way it would roll. Make Michael think he had me and squeeze him for just enough extra money that Janie’s acceleration of The Plan could work.
Game the gamer. I had to stifle the smile, picturing his face as he arrived at school to find me gone. Disappeared with Janie, leaving him holding the bag.
Monique and another girl got out of the car that had parked behind us.
“Are we the first?” Monique called. “I can’t believe we got here first.” She walked up to us so fast, what little curves she had jiggled.
“No, Mona.” Michael sounded bored. “We’re first.”
“You don’t count,” Monique said. “You’re always here first.”
More cars parked. People started leaving their headlights on while music competed from different windows. Hoods were propped open so passersby could ogle the goods.
Cyndra arrived, wearing a tank top and low-slung jeans. Her long legs flickered the glare of the headlights as she runway-walked up to us. She kissed Michael and pressed into his side.
Mona sat on the trunk next to me, letting her leg touch mine. I didn’t move away.
The others arrived. LaShonda and T-Man fighting about which rapper was playing on the radio. Dwight and Mike-Lite started talking trash about the cars. Michael gestured for us to follow him.
“Come on.”
Dwight, Mike-Lite, T-Man, and Beast came with us. We wandered down the road, looking at the various engines, talking about which ones were the best. There were only a few real racers. Most people were there to drink and hook up.
We kept moving past the cars and people, walking down into the blackness.
Michael stopped. The others ranged around him, listening.
“Tomorrow night.”
Dwight cursed and grinned.
“All in,” Michael continued. “No opt outs.”
Beast’s eyes shifted around the circle.
“Security’s been taken care of.” Michael crossed his arms over his chest and took a wide stance. “There’s nothing to worry about, even for you, Beast.”
The guys laughed. Beast looked like someone had squirted lemon juice in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “What about security cameras?”
“We’ll be wearing masks, and we won’t be driving one of our cars. We’ll wreck the place and get the drugs.”
“We should just get the drugs and go,” Mike-Lite said. “Get in and out quick and not leave any evidence behind.”
“Evidence? Look who’s been watching crime TV.” Michael’s hand swept, palm up, at Mike-Lite, like he was on a game show. “Evidence.” He spat the word, a dismissal. “Are we referring to broken glass, here? You planning on touching it after you bust it? Or, uh, no”—Michael glanced at T-Man, who laughed ahead of the joke—“you’re gonna write our names with the paint?”
Michael dropped the taunts and made a blade of his hand. “We trash it. It’ll confuse things, make them wonder what we were after. Plus, it shields the guard if it looks like vandals broke in.”
Mike-Lite spread his own feet and tipped his head at Beast. “But something could go wrong,” he said. “This one’s too much,” he said to Michael. “How can you be sure it won’t go wrong?”
Michael leaned forward, casual as a viper. “Because I paid the guard. Because I know the building inside out. And because of him.” He pointed at me. “Ice has all the angles covered, so you daisies don’t have to worry about a thing.”
All eyes shifted to me. Michael raised an eyebrow.
I nodded once.
Dwight popped his knuckles, glaring at me. “I don’t need his green light.”
“Go without me, then.”
“Dwight, shut up.” Michael’s eyes bored into him.
“Why are we supposed to be impressed by him again?” Dwight sneered. “I don’t give a damn about him.”
“Sitting this one out, Dwight? That’s a win in my book,” I said.
Michael popped a fist against Dwight’s chest. “I said shut up.” His eyes slid around the circle.
Beast looked uncertain, lips moving like he wanted to say something. Mike-Lite’s weight shifted from foot to foot.
“We don’t need him,” Dwight told the group, looking at me like I was a leech bloated on their blood.
Michael turned to Dwight. “No. It’s you we don’t need. Shut your damn mouth.”
Dwight opened his mouth. Closed it again. A red flush spread in his cheeks.
Michael pivoted and stalked away.
“I can’t wait.” T-Man followed—pacing with sharp, arrested movements. Michael smiled at him, like a teacher when you’ve given the right answer.
Dwight fell in behind Michael, a kicked dog, eager and cringing. He glared at me.
Beast and T-Man walked in the road, ignoring the yells and revving engines. T-Man walked with his arms out—like if a car came at him he’d show it who was boss.
Tires screeched. Two sets of headlights hurtled down the road. T-Man jumped out of the way at the last possible moment.
We walked behind the parked cars and through clusters of people until we were back at Michael’s car.
I glanced around at the scene. Similar to the party, except scattered down the edges of the dark country road. People drinking, dancing, making out. Same as ever.
I sat on the hood of Michael’s car.
Two cars started revving their engines, shuddering where they stood. All noise, no performance.
Cyndra perched on the hood next to me. A can was pressed into my hand. Cyndra smiled and tipped her beer up to her lips.
The can was warm. I popped the top and drank.
Michael slid a hand up Cyndra’s leg. “Cyn, Ice and I are going to talk.”