Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“On the first Saturday of every month,” she says, drawing out the suspense like I’m as excited as she is. “All kinds of hot guys with cool cars meet up.”
I’m already wishing we were going to the Cheesecake Factory. I could go for a piece of Oreo Dream Extreme Cheesecake. Extra large.
“It’s soooo cool,” she says as she blows through another stop sign. “It’s always in a different location. Super hush hush. They get together, show off their cars, and then…”
She turns to me, grinning as she builds up suspense. I think I’m going to be sick.
“A drag race!” she says with a squeal. “Doesn’t that sound awesome?!”
It sounds dangerous. And illegal. And not nearly as good as a quiet night with a large piece of Oreo Dream Extreme Cheesecake.
“A drag race?” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. I’m trying to build up some enthusiasm, but my voice comes out all flat and weary.
“Yes! It’s so thrilling! They speed through the back streets and then loop back around, finishing where everyone is and then there’s a huge party. It’s so fun. Well, until the cops come and break it up.”
“I don’t know…” I say as I glance at the side mirror, wondering if it’s too far to walk back to Aunt Mindy’s house.
“Wait until you see the guys there,” she says as she turns a corner and rolls over the curb. “Then you’ll be thanking me!”
I highly doubt that. Tina and I are not exactly into the same kind of men. Her last boyfriend had neck tattoos. Not just one, several.
There’s nothing I can do now but hold my breath and hope for the best.
We arrive about twenty minutes later and it’s even worse than I thought.
There are suped-up muscle cars everywhere. It’s like the set of The Fast and The Furious with all of the open hoods and colorful lights shining under six-figure cars.
Hot people are strutting around everywhere. Shirtless guys with tattoos on every square inch of their bodies and girls in heels so high that walking in them must feel like walking on a tightrope.
My eyes are glued out the window as Tina finds a parking space. I’m feeling a little insecure here. A little vulnerable and uneasy. My throat is uncomfortably dry and my heart is racing.
I don’t want to be here. Maybe I can wait in the car.
“Let’s go!” Tina says as she turns off the car and bounces out of it.
I gulp as I run my fingers along the safety belt, not wanting to take it off. We’re in what looks like a forgotten part of town in a parking lot of some old abandoned warehouse with broken windows and boarded-up doors.
Tina taps her knuckles on my window and gives me a look. I take a deep breath, unclip my seatbelt, and step out of the car.
She looks me up and down with a disapproving gaze. “You’re not going to change?”
I can feel my cheeks going red. “I’m more comfortable like this.”
She rolls her eyes, leans into the car, grabs the shirt and shorts from the glove compartment, and shoves them into my purse. “Just keep them on you. You might want to change when you see all the hot guys.”
She keeps saying that like I’m going to find anyone I’m interested in around here. I have a better chance of finding a winning lottery ticket.
I keep the clothes in my purse since I don’t want to argue about it, and follow her into the crowd. There’s loud hip hop playing and people dancing on cars.
I suck in a breath when I walk by a girl with only a bra on lying on the hood of a crazing-looking car. A guy is pouring Whiskey into her belly button and slurping it up. She sees me watching her and then blows me a kiss. My cheeks flame as I turn away and walk a little faster.
The guys are checking out the cars, my cousin is checking out the guys, and I’m checking out the concrete. My eyes are locked on the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with any of these people so they won’t start talking to me.
“What about those two guys?” Tina says as she motions over to a shiny blue car with what looks like an airplane wing attached to the trunk. They’re two tatted-up guys who look like they could play Criminal Thug Number One and Criminal Thug Number Two in an action movie. “They’re hot.”
“They’re something,” I mutter under my breath.
“Fine,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “Not your type. Let’s keep looking.”
We approach a cheering crowd and I get a sense of uneasiness. The music is so loud I can feel the bass vibrating through my chest.
There’s a guy in the middle of the group blowing fireballs from his mouth. He takes a swig of Vodka from the bottle and blows it onto his lighter. A massive fireball explodes into the night sky and everyone cheers.