“Sounds like you know the local law pretty well,” I replied, my suspicions about her lifting wallets regularly confirmed.
“It’s a small town. We’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but Dad’s already had one or two drunken run-ins with the sheriff. Makes it kind of hard to get ahead when your family name is as renowned as mine.”
“But you said you’d just come from work. So you have a job now?”
“I got a job today at the coffee shop on Fourth Street. It’s only for the holidays, but at least it’s something. I got an honest job and a free hot meal. Today’s been a good day,” she said with a reluctant smile.
“You forgot about the bit where you bounced off my truck,” I reminded her.
“Stop trying to rain on my parade,” she replied, smiling wider.
Chapter Five
Lauren
“So what are you doing in Friendship?” I asked. “It’s a long way from England. At least that’s where I’m guessing you’re from by the accent.” It was more Jason Statham than Benedict Cumberbatch, but still, he could melt chocolate with that hot, deep voice.
“I’m not there much anymore, but I’m from East London. I’m here for the funeral of an old friend,” he replied. He looked so sad and remorseful that I found myself wanting to scoot over to his side of the booth and just hug him. To offer him back a small measure of the comfort and kindness he’d given me. But I stayed where I was, not knowing how he’d feel about receiving affection from someone who’d just stolen from him.
“He must have been a really good friend for you to have come all this way.”
“He was the best. A better friend to me than I was to him anyway.”
“What happened?” I asked, then immediately winced as I realized how nosy and insensitive I was being.
As though he could sense my discomfort, he waved away my concerns and continued.
“I don’t know if you follow motor racing, but I’m a Formula One driver. I didn’t grow up in the nicest of areas, but I knew from pretty young that the only place I wanted to be was behind the wheel. I loved everything about it. The thrill, the speed, the competition. All of it. But I had no money, no
real skills, and little education, so I did what half the kids on the estate were doing and started stealing cars. I didn’t care what it was or who it belonged to, if it had four wheels, I took it,” he admitted.
Maybe I shouldn’t find it endearing that he was sharing his criminal past with me, but I did. Unless he was about to tell me that the flashy truck I’d been riding around in was stolen, he had clearly done well for himself, so maybe there was hope for me after all.
“Please tell me this story doesn’t end with you hitting someone with your car,” I said.
“Thankfully no. You were my first,” he replied.
“I’m honored,” I said sarcastically. Diana arrived at our table and proceeded to unload three dishes that would make anyone’s mouth water.
“Enjoy!” she said, and gave me another wink as she headed back to the kitchen. All of it looked delicious, and I was pretty sure that I’d fall into a sugar coma just from the smell.
“Don’t go hungry on my account. I’ll never eat this much food by myself,” he said, handing me a fork. Having eaten out of a Dumpster less than twenty-four hours ago, I couldn’t bring myself to turn him down, and accepting the fork, I wasted no time in plowing into the pancakes.
“So what did happen? Were you caught? Arrested?” I asked between mouthfuls, trying my best to retain some sense of dignity instead of shoveling in the food as fast as I could.
“In a manner of speaking. Some of my mates and I had saved up for tickets to the British Formula Renault Series. They were rubbish seats, but we didn’t care. After the race was over, most people left the stadium, but the boys and I stayed till the very end. The cars had all been taken off the track, but I couldn’t leave. I was a stupid kid, ramped up and full of adrenaline, so I hopped the barrier and found an unlocked safety car,” he explained.
“Didn’t you worry about getting caught?”
“I knew I’d get caught, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a little punk like me. I figured it was worth the risk. I put my foot to the floor and did one lap of the circuit before the other safety cars hit the track and barricaded me in. I don’t think I breathed for the entire lap, but what a lap it was,” he said wistfully.
“So what happened?” I asked, moving onto the chocolate fudge cake as he picked through the leftover pancakes. He ate a forkful before pausing to lick the maple syrup from his lips, and it struck me that there was something decidedly intimate about sharing a meal with a virtual stranger.
“One of the pit bosses tore me a new one, the police were called, and I was let off with a caution. Three days later, Ronnie came knocking at my door. Turns out he was in the stands chatting to an old friend, and he’d seen the lap. He offered me a spot then and there on a junior drivers program. The team would cover my accommodation expenses and airfare, but it meant leaving everything behind to join a boot camp for young drivers. Break the rules and you’re sent packing, miss classes or training even once and you’re sent packing. But toe the line and you not only get to drive some of the fastest cars in the world, you’re taught how,” he replied.
“So your mom and dad supported you?”
“My dad left us when I was a baby, so I don’t really know him, but Mum couldn’t get me out of the house fast enough. She saw an opportunity to get me out of trouble and off the estate, at least until I was old enough to start making good decisions.”