“That’s why you still do it yourself.”
“Some things you don’t hand off.” He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the paint fumes and underneath it, him. “You ready?”
“Been ready. Mook came and got me.” She tilted her head. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going tonight.”
“You’ll see.” He leaned down and kissed her, quick but intentional, his hand finding the side of her neck. “G and Paige are meeting us there. Spirit too.”
“Spirit’s coming?”
“Paige made her. Said she’s been cooped up with her book stuff and needed to get out.” He was already stripping off the coveralls and slipping his shirt back on. “You good with that?”
“Of course. I didn’t know it was a group thing.”
“It’s a chill thing. Friday night tradition from back in the day.” He grabbed his keys from the workbench and nodded toward the back door. “Come on. You’ll see what I mean.”
The Demon was parked out back, matte black and mean; the car made noise sitting still. Kennedi had seen it in the garage at his house but hadn’t ridden in it yet. Rolani opened her door first, waited until she was settled, then came around and slid behind the wheel.
The engine turned over with a growl that vibrated through the seat.
“Show off,” she said. “What does CANT mean?” she asked, referring to his license plate.
He grinned and pulled out of the lot.
“A nigga CAN’T catch or beat her,” he said, speeding up, giving her a rush.
“Are you humble about anything?” she joked.
“Yeah, but not my cars or my racing record.”
Twenty minutes later, they turned off the main road onto a stretch of back highway with no streetlights. Kennedi had driven past this turnoff her whole life and never thought twice about it. She figured it was farmland or nothing.
It wasn’t nothing.
She heard it before she saw it. Bass thumping through the trees. The growl of engines. Then the road opened up, and the strip came into view, lit up like a block party on asphalt. Cars lined both sides—old schools on big rims, muscle cars with their hoods up, a few imports scattered in between.
People everywhere. Lawn chairs and coolers. Grills smoking. Kids running through the crowd while grown folks passedbottles and talked shit. Larry June knocked from somebody’s speakers loud enough to rattle windows.
Rolani pulled the Demon through slowly, and Kennedi watched the crowd react.
Heads turned. A few people pointed. An older man in a lawn chair raised his cup in Rolani’s direction without getting up—respect. A group of younger guys standing near a Charger stopped their conversation to watch the Demon roll past. One of them nodded. Another dapped up the guy next to him. Nobody ran up on the car. Nobody shouted his name or tried to flag him down. But everybody saw him. Everybody knew.
“This is what you do on Friday nights?”
“Sometimes, I’m a simple man, baby.”
She nodded.
She’d tried running. Hadn’t worked.
Rolani parked near the fence at the far end, where Giovanni’s Hellcat and a white mustang were already posted. He killed the engine and looked at her.
“Let me know if you get uncomfortable or ready to go. I wanted to get you out of the house and office.”
“I’m fine.” She met his eyes. “I’m excited, truthfully. I’m not porcelain, Rolani.”
Something in his face shifted. “Give me a kiss.”
And she did with a smile. She was now at the space where she’d do whatever he told her, give him whatever he wanted.
