“True, but the teachers never come out here.” Trey pointed. “We got sick of them breaking up our parties, so we had Ayaz put up some kind of sigil that makes anyone who’s not invited feel a crippling sickness if they get near. Come on, you won’t believe what we’ve got in here.”
I followed Trey inside. The stable was a long wooden building with a mezzanine floor where a stablehand might once have slept. Every spare inch of space on the ground floor had been crowded with cars. And not just any cars – the place looked like the impound lot of ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Tacky.’
Trey flicked through Ms. West’s keys and tossed one to Quinn. “Move your piece-of-shit truck so I can get the Porsche out.”
“Why are we taking your car?” Quinn shot back. “Mine’s right in the front, and it’s bigger so it can fit more. It’s also got these kickass off-road tires and a snorkel. Does yours have a snorkel?”
“I don’t need a snorkel, because I have self-respect and a beautiful Cayenne—”
“If you two don’t stop arguing, I’ll be the one driving,” Ayaz shot back, grabbing for the keyring in Trey’s hand.
“Argh, no! Fine.” Quinn stuck out his bottom lip. “We’ll take the Porsche. But I get to drive a bit after Trey.Onlyme.” He shot Ayaz a worried look.
“Why don’t they want you to drive?” I asked Ayaz.
“Ataturk is a speed demon.” Quinn slid into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. “He won all the drag races.”
“And he lays on the horn,” Trey added.
Ayaz shrugged. “In Turkey, there are forty-three things you can say with your horn.”
“In America, there are only two things you say with a horn,” Quinn shot back. “One. I’m about to fuck up, and two, I’m a twatwaffle who can’t drive for shit and blame the rest of the world.”
I turned to Trey. “You don’t think the teachers will notice all this noise?”
He grinned. “Not since I had Dr. Morgan add some of her wonder drug into their dinner.”
“Trey! We shouldn’t do that again – not with Ms. West already suspicious. We don’t know if we can trust Dr. Morgan—”
He laughed. The randomness of it caught me off-guard. The last time I’d seen Trey this… relaxed, it was when we’d first visited Deborah, when we were sleeping on an air mattress and walking the dogs and eating take-out. “Relax, Hazy. Tonight belongs to us and us alone.”
Quinn hopped into an enormous truck painted bright yellow (because of course it was) and pulled around to the side of the stable. Trey slid a sleek red Porsche out into the moonlight. Even though the car had been shut up for years, the engine purred like a kitten. Paul must be a miracle worker. Now I knew where Trey’s good mood had come from – it must be amazing to drive a car like that.
Grinning, I slid into the passenger seat. Even though Trey had wiped off the seats when he got in with a chamois, the interior still had a slightly musty smell. Trey flipped through the CDs in the glove compartment (CDs! How quaint) and stuck on one from Ayaz’s favorite band, Blood Lust. Sweeping metal guitars and furious drums blasted from the stereo.Is that a cello? Sick.Quinn and Ayaz hopped in back and Trey gunned the engine.
The car roared to life and tore down the gravel road. Trey whooped as he yanked the wheel hard and the back end of the car slid around the first corner. I gasped as the front wheels gripped the road for dear life.
They weren’t the only thing gripping for dear life. My knuckles were white against the dashboard as Trey took every corner like a rally driver. If this was what rich kids did for a thrill I’d go back to jacking cars and hard drugs, thanks very much.
Trees whizzed past in a blur as we careened into Arkham. Trey slowed down as we slid along the main street, a wild grin warming his icy features. “What do you think?”
“Ayaz was supposed to be the speed demon!” I yelled. “What the fuck do you call that?”
Trey’s smile turned giddy. Seeing him like this, like a normal guy who didn’t button himself up or hold himself back, made a new fire ignite inside me. “Thatis what you get when your rich daddy owns a Formula 1 team. I learned to drive on a race track.”
“You could have killed us.” I fought to control my beating heart. Heat danced across my chest.
“I’d never put you in danger. If Ayaz was driving, it’d be another story.”
We shot through Arkham without looking back and hit the freeway. Trey couldn’t keep the smile off his face. For being out of practice, he slid into the traffic without a single mistake, merging seamlessly and waving thanks to a driver who let us in. I bet he never used to do that.
In the backseat, Quinn and Ayaz headbanged. Ayaz strummed an air guitar while Quinn screamed unfathomable growly vocals into an upside-down Scotch bottle he was using as a microphone. A hollow ache formed in my stomach – they were so carefree, so normal. It reminded me of hanging out with Dante, which reminded me of things I didn’t want to think about right now.
“Bloomberg, I had a boo boo… the bottle wasn’t empty.” Quinn perched his chin on the back of my seat, his breath warming my neck.
“You’d better not have spilled Scotch over the leather,” Trey growled.
“It’s fine. No biggie. I’ll make Ataturk lick it up.”
