She snorted a laugh. “Not unless Despina wears one. It’s called stunt double for a reason.”
“Let’s go, everybody.” The director’s yell refocused Chase. Maybe after driving it with Despina, he’d feel more comfortable with Zahara throwing herself out of a moving vehicle. He couldn’t see how, but he was hoping that confidence would reveal itself before she got into the car with him.
Chase and Despina snapped into their harnesses. They took a few seconds to check in with themselves and slide into character, and Chase wondered if doing his own stunts was such a smart move. It might make him more valuable as an actor, but…
Wes appeared at his window and offered a communication device smaller than the head of a nail. “Use this. I’ll guide you through.” Then he slapped Chase on the shoulder and grinned. “You’ve got this, bro.”
Chase turned over the engine, and a familiar intensity slid in, quieting his nerves.
After he blew out a slow, deep breath, Chase gunned the engine, just as he had twelve times before. The next three minutes blew past.
Wes’s “Downshift… Rev…” and “Floor it,” kept Chase in perfect rhythm. He didn’t have to do much acting on his part. The driving itself created enough stress to translate into intensity on the screen. He yelled his lines—warnings for Despina to keep her head down—and forced her lower in the seat with a hand on her head. When Wes’s countdown came, Chase was right on cue.
“Three, two, one,” Wes said, “and slide.”
Chase’s moves felt comfortable and easy and expected. He lifted his hand from Despina’s head, gripped the parking brake, and coordinated all the movements necessary for a slide and a recovery.
When he skidded to a stop, he experienced a wild out-of-body sensation. His mind was a whirlwind. His breathing hard. He only realized his hearing had tunneled when sounds started fading back in.
He cut a look at Despina, who was laughing and clapping. “That was awesome.”
“I’ll say.” Wes appeared at his window again and opened the driver’s door. “Step out, walk off the adrenaline.”
Chase paced away from the car, then back, opening and closing his hands to release pent-up energy. Zahara approached the passenger’s side, and Chase made his way toward her.
“Nice job, Layton,” she said, opening the door. “Let’s see you do it again.”
She started to slide into the car, but Chase took hold of her arm.
“Humor me, please.” He lifted her T-shirt and slid his hands over the body armor.
She gave him an are-you-crazy scowl. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Quite a bit, evidently. But, at the moment, I’d like to know you’re as safe as possible if I’m going to be driving the car you throw yourself out of.”
She rolled her eyes but let him check the fit and fasteners around her abdomen. Tolerated his hands on her legs, her arms, her shoulders. Then she stepped out of reach. “Satisfied?”
“I’d really feel better if you had something on your head.”
“The best way for you to contribute to my safety is to drive the way
Wes taught you.” She dropped into the passenger’s seat and pulled the door closed.
Wes clapped, yelling, “Let’s do this” like a football rally chant.
Chase put his hands on the open window ledge and asked Zahara, “You want Wes to drive? ’Cause I’m okay if you want—”
“If Wes cleared you, we’re good. I trust his judgment. Now shut up and drive.”
That stung. Not the shut-up part, but the trust part. She trusted Wes with something as important as her safety, but didn’t even trust Chase to be a friend.
His chest had coiled into a hard knot by the time he dropped into the driver’s seat. But he sucked up the emotion and hardened himself to find the courage to be the solid driver she needed.
He started the engine.
“Don’t look at me when I drop,” she told him. “Keep your eyes on the road.”
When he didn’t answer, Zahara put a hand on his face and turned his head until his eyes met hers. “Did you hear me? I mean it. If you look away from the road, you could end up in the storefronts. You didn’t look away when you were driving with Wes or acting with Despina. Don’t look away when I bail.”