A cold, sick feeling floods my body. I’m praying that he tells me it’s been parked illegally, that it was towed somewhere.
I know better.
“It’s been involved in an accident.”
forty-seven
Wrecked
The scene is crazy, like something out of a movie. Rain, police lights, a couple of teenage girls sitting on the curb crying. A hunk of twisted metal—my car.
I park the motorcycle and try to find Tyler. He’s sitting in the back of one of the police cars. I move towards him. Then I see her.
Jess.
I didn’t know she was home.
Her eyes crackle with fire–fire directed at me. I take a couple of steps toward her before she starts yelling.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
I step back. “Me?”
“Street racing, Jacob? Of all the asinine stunts. He’s just a kid.”
I put my hands up in front of me. “I had nothing to do with this. I told him street racing was a bad idea.”
“What did you think he was going to do with your stupid souped-up death machine?”
I catch one cop watching us, like he’s trying to decide if he should get between us or make a bag of popcorn and watch the show.
“I don’t know, go on a date? That’s what he told me he was doing.”
“And you believed him? I don’t buy it. It’s bad enough that you fill his head with your war stories; now you’ve got him street racing.”
Tyler tries to stand up from the back of the police car. He has a bandage across his forehead and his hands are handcuffed behind his back. He’s trying not to cry. “Jess, this isn’t Jacob’s fault. He told me not to. I know it was stupid.”
Now she turns on him. “This is so beyond stupid! What were you thinking? What do you think it would do to Mom and Dad if you got yourself killed?”
“I’m sorry, Jess. I’m sorry.” He sits back down, and she goes to him. Now he is crying. Crying with his hands behind his back and no way to wipe the tears or to blow his nose.
She wraps her arms around him. I step forward and put my hand on her back. At my touch, she spins around. “Don’t touch me, Jacob. And stay the hell away from my family.”
The cop steps forward. “You the owner of this vehicle?” He indicates the twisted hunk that used to be my car.
“Yes, sir.” I walk towards him. I can feel the anger in Jess’ gaze on my back as we walk away.
“This kid have permission to use it tonight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you know what he was planning to do with it?”
“No, sir. He told me he was going on a date.”
The cop raises his eyebrows, like he doesn’t believe me either. “You are aware of the modifications made to this car, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I made those modifications myself.”
