‘Wait, officer.’ Her curls bounce around as she shakes her pretty face. ‘You’re not going to tell us to leave?’
‘Bit hard to tell the property owner what they can and can’t do on their own land, don’t you think?’
Gianna looks at me once before frowning at Dellenty. ‘What do you mean?’
Dellenty brings out his phone and starts rattling off names. ‘Charles Brooks, Jace Brooks, Gianna Brooks.’
‘And those names are what, exactly?’ I ask, because Gianna looks like she’s about to pass out.
‘All the previous owners of the speedway.’ Dellenty pockets his device before nodding at Gianna. ‘And the current.’
Chapter 18
Gianna
PRESENT
I’ve never understood why, when it comes to personality, I am the complete opposite of the woman who gave birth to me. But I’m glad for it.
‘You’re being ridiculous, anak,’ Ma says from across the kitchen counter of the house I grew up in.
She busies herself making tea, ever the hostess, like it will fix every fucked-up thing going on between us. When she moves past me, I hold back a coughing fit as I nearly choke on her Chanel perfume. Ten too many sprays. Her cooking hasn’t improved either. I glance up at the smoke alarm, reassured by its flashing green light. At least she managed to change the battery.
Not a single thing in this kitchen has changed. The fridge still has old drawings and pictures secured by mismatched magnets. A bowl of lemons picked from the garden sits on the corner bench and the same red-and-white chequered tea towels hang in front of the oven.
The place sparks a memory from what seems like a lifetime ago, a year before Pa passed.
‘Don’t make the hole too big. They’re bagels, not donuts,’Pa says, stuffing his half with way too many jalapeños. My nose scrunches and I sprinkle mine with sesame seeds.
‘How’s your art going?’ he asks.
I wipe my hands on the tea towel before grabbing my sketchbook. I flip it open to show him the new charcoal drawing I’ve been working on. It’s in early stages of outlines, so I explain where the Mustang is, where he is and where I am.
‘That’s damn good, Gigi.’ He pauses before regarding me with a question simmering in his hazel eyes. ‘I’ve been thinking. Would you be up for painting some racing stripes on the ’stang? Think you could trade paper for metal?’
My insides light up like fireworks are being let off. ‘You’d let me paint the Mustang?’ I squeal.
‘On one condition.’ He leans in close. ‘Don’t ever give up on your passions. They’ll give you a full life, one you can’t wait to really live. Promise me?’
‘I promise, Pa.’
He gives a solemn nod. A deal’s been made. ‘Get on with it then. We’ll bake these up and then it’s hammer time.’
Hammer time. His go-to phrase whenever he believed in something.
I suck in a deep breath to calm the storm raging inside my chest as the memory of Pa disappears.
I turn my attention back to Ma. ‘When were you going to tell me about the speedway?’
‘I wasn’t going to tell you,’ she states with a poker face.
Her heels clack against the tiles as she gets milk from the fridge, the metronomic click merging with my heartbeat in my ears.
‘What?’ My voice quivers but hope burns in my chest that she’ll take it back. When she says nothing, I continue, ‘You watched me save to buy the speedway for years. I’d go withoutfood just to put every single cent away so I could grow that account … and it was mine all along. And you knew.’
I’ve lost everything, and she couldn’t just give me the one thing that would make me feel connected to Pa. The place he leftforme. I close my eyes, praying for an inch more patience.
‘Don’t blame me for your choices, Gianna.’
