#Junkie (GearShark #1)(25)

Who could blame him? I was being a weird ass.

He’d been worse last night, though.

Fuck, I’d tossed and turned on this stupid couch for a few hours, going over the way he acted toward the employee who brought the sheets. I’d replayed his words in my mind as if the more I did, the easier they’d be to understand.

In the end, all I got was a shitty night’s sleep.

“No, I need to wake up and get ready. I want to be there early,” I replied.

“Thought so. That’s why I went down and grabbed breakfast.”

I held out my fist between us, and we pounded it out. “Thanks, man.”

“You get any sleep last night?” he asked casually, setting aside his coffee and diving into his food. “Or were you too nervous about his morning?”

It wasn’t this morning that was on my mind last night.

“Took a while for me to fall asleep.”

He made a sound and shoved an entire piece of bacon into his mouth.

The caffeine started working into my bloodstream, giving me a little more energy, so I too tucked into my plate and starting eating.

The weather looked clear for the day, cloudy and cold, but no chance of any kind of precipitation. I was hoping most of that shit was done for and spring weather would soon be headed our way. Sometimes Maryland was tricky like that. Winter could drag itself out, or spring could roll in to stay.

Either way, we still had a couple weeks of cold weather. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any more snow to go with it.

As we finished our food and coffee, we talked strategy and basically threw out a bunch of scenarios Gamble might toss at me today at the meeting. I knew he’d want to see me drive. We were meeting at the big track here in town. Hopefully, he’d like what he saw and want to talk as well.

I didn’t bother taking another shower, but I did brush my teeth, splash my face with cold water, and trim up the scruff on my jawline. I didn’t keep a clean shave as much anymore. I knew my boss at the software place would probably like me to, but I didn’t care. I liked the way the scruff felt. It kept my face warm. And truth be told, the ladies thought it was sexy.

Who was I to disappoint?

I did keep it trimmed and neat, though. I combed my hair, too—well, with my fingers. Swept it up and over to the side using some of the wax shit Ivy told me I needed. I didn’t argue when she handed me the jar a while back. I only argued with my sister over shit I cared about.

For a long time, it sat on my dresser, until one day she marched in my room, uncapped it, and styled my hair, all the while giving me a “class” on how to look “hot.”

I laughed the entire time, and she stomped on my foot, which hurt like hell, but when I looked in the mirror when she was done, I liked the way it looked. It definitely was a lot less rumpled than the way I usually did it.

So I compromised. I wore it like this half the time, and the other half, I just sort of let it do its thing.

Some hair can’t be contained. Like Rimmel’s. Ivy tried to give her classes, too.

Once I was sure my hair would pass the sister test, I left the bathroom for my duffle. I was dressed in a pair of low-rise jeans that looked more grey than blue and a plain white T-shirt. Trent was on the couch with his phone to his ear, listening to whoever was on the other end.

My hand closed over a baseball-style T-shirt with dark-yellow sleeves and a white torso. I pulled it on and tucked just the front behind the buckle on my black belt. My black leather jacket was by the door, and I’d throw that on before we left.

Beneath my two shirts, I was wearing my lucky necklace. I wore it all the time. It was a long silver chain with a speedometer pendant. Ivy gave it to me years ago before I’d driven in a race. I’d won that day, thus making it lucky.

No, I wasn’t dressed up for the meeting. Going to see Gamble dressed in a suit would be a lie. He needed to see exactly who he was getting as a driver, because a sponsor put down a lot of money and they needed to know where and who it was going into.

Besides, I drove better when I dressed like myself.

Trent tossed the phone on the couch, and I looked over. “Something wrong?”

“Nah, just checking in with the frat, making sure no one did anything stupid last night.”

I made a sound. “Jack still kissing your ass?”

He laughed. “Not too bad. Apparently, Con’s not too happy about my decision, though.”

“Shocker.” I dropped down on the couch and picked up my coffee, which was almost gone.

“Your phone’s been going off.” Trent gestured to my cell lying on the table.

I grabbed it and lit up the screen. I had a bunch of texts.

I smiled. “Rome told everyone about the meeting.”

I thumbed through the messages. One from each of our family members.

Romeo: Own the road today.

Ivy: I love you! Be safe!

Rimmel: Should I tell you to break a leg? That’s not very nice. Drive fast!

Braeden: Don’t come home without a deal.

I laughed when I read B’s. My brother-in-law was a piece of work.

Trent leaned toward me, and I held the phone between us and scrolled through again so he could read them. He laughed, too.

My phone beeped again. I called up the newest text. It was a picture of my almost six-month-old niece, Nova, dressed in a T-shirt with a hot-pink racecar on the front.