“Keep talking,” Owen said.
“Bailey was their best mechanic,” he said. “He’s a mechanical engineering major, man. He can back up what he’s saying.”
“He lied before,” Petie said.
“Yeah, to convince you he wasn’t worth shit,” Seb said, eyes bright with loyalty. “Obviously, he’s a badass with skills.”
Owen and Petie exchanged a look. I knew beating the shit out of this car would soothe their aggravation more than some free labor. I was just banking on their desire to win even more.
“Don’t you want to show that rich douche Christian who’s the better driver?” I said. “I can help you do that.”
“Fine,” Owen said, releasing Seb and backing up a step. “It’s a deal. But if you even think of fucking with us?—”
“I know, I know. I’ll fucking find out.”
He smiled grimly. “You sure as hell will. And it won’t just be your car taking the beating next time.”
“I got it,” I said. “How do you want to do this?”
He held out his hand. “Give me your phone. I’ll text you the address where you can meet us. If you ditch us, we’ll be back. We got your buddy’s plate number now. You can’t ghost us.”
I nodded. “I’ll be there.”
Truth was, I didn’t even want to ghost them. Owen and Petie were assholes and sore losers, but they also had the one thing that I’d been craving ever since I left home—other than Flynn, that is.
Cars that needed me. Finally, I could get my hands dirty without driving all the way home.
And without my brothers looking over my shoulder, suggesting that I should go relax or study or hang out with friends—anything but the one thing that brought me the most satisfaction.
Finding a problem. Working it out.
And solving it with my own two hands.
CHAPTER 6
Flynn
The clatterof bowling pins sounded, and Hollywood threw up his arms. “Strike, baby!”
“You sure know how to handle those balls,” Tex drawled. “Your cellie teach you those tricks?”
“Watch it,” Matteo said. “No homophobia bullshit on my watch.”
Tex raised his hands. “Who said I was a ’phobe? I find it downright inspiring.” He winked at Hollywood and lifted his hand in the universalcall mesign.
Hollywood rolled his eyes. As the pretty boy ex-con, he’d heard it all. No doubt, he’d had to fend off more than one creep in prison. It wasn’t funny, but Tex hadn’t yet shaken that old inmate humor.
“Okay.” Matteo clapped his hands once sharply. “Let’s get the meeting started. There’s coffee and soda. Grab a drink and sit down.”
The Redemption Road members met once a week. Matteo, my former cellmate, organized the work-transition programwith the help of a grant. The money only went so far, so for now, we met at a deteriorating bowling alley.
We were the most action this place saw on a Monday evening, so it worked out surprisingly well. Hollywood’s desire to show off his ball-handling skills notwithstanding.
I poured myself a root beer from a pitcher on the table next to Matteo and squeezed myself into a plastic booth. Knight slid in across from me, knees jostling mine.
“Sorry,” he said. “Tight fit.”
Tex was passing by. “That’s what he said!” He gave a rusty laugh. “Shit, you all make it too easy.”
