“I was trying to win, beautiful,” he says, his tone softer now.
“Ah! I know that, it’s just …”
He halts her speech by pulling her down to him and smashing his lips against hers. They start making out as if there aren’t a hundred eyes on them. It doesn’t take long for a crowd to gather once there’s a bingle.
“You’re so not getting out of this wedding, buddy,” she warns, as the medics shuffle the spinal board beneath him and secure him.
“I don’t fucking want out of it. Don’t say something like that.”
“It kills me when you get hurt,” she says and pouts.
“I’m good.”
She lets out a loud sigh. “You promise?”
“Nope.”
“What about going overseas? Is he going to be okay?” she directs her question to the male and female medic. They continue their assessment of him, ignoring her.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got time to recover before then,” Jones tells her. “The way you look after me, I’ll be brand new in no time.” He waggles his eyebrows, which seems to have a calming effect on her.
“So you’re fine.”
“Fine.”
“Gah! I’ll be back in a minute. I really need to pee.”
“Go, babe. I’m good.”
“Boys and their damn bikes,” she mutters as she waddles off in search of the toilet. The medics continue to check over Jones.
“You okay, mate?” Stone asks Jones, as he takes off his helmet and crouches beside him.
Jones winces as he tries to shuffles onto his side.
“Don’t move yet,” the short-haired female medic says, pressing her hands to his chest so that he lies back against the spinal board.
As he lets out a breath, he squeezes his eyes shut. It looks like he’s in pain to me.
“I won’t lie, Stone. I’m fuckin’ hurtin’. That knocked the wind clean out of me. I might have a fractured rib, but I’m not about to tell April that.”
Stone lets out a deep chuckle. “Yeah, the girls do like to fuss,” he says, with a shake of his head.
“You rode like your arse was on fire,” Jones says to Stone, putting his clenched fist out for a fist bump.
“I’m not here for a haircut,” Stone says, and bumps his knuckles against his.
After a few more checks, the medics clear him, with a bruised rib. Thank Christ it’s nothing major.
“Way to finish your last round before the bucks,” I say as the three of us walk away from the medic tent.
“Hey, I’m still standing. I’m pretty fuckin’ proud of that fact.” Jones grips our closest shoulders in each of his gloved hands, and we slowly walk back to camp.
“Vegas here we come, boys.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ROCCO
Saturday
Two weeks later
I finish off another bottle of water, something I’ve been drinking a lot more of thanks to being twenty-three days sober. I’m still having trouble believing I’ve been strong, but I know that alone I wouldn’t be doing so well.
I toss the empty bottle in the bin as the team from First Class Driving ushers us into a silver van. We start making our way to the Dream Garage, which is out of town. Spirits amongst the boys are high. We’re dying to get in these cars and hold the pedal down flat. Apart from Brett, we have a great group of guys on the trip. Steve and Nathan used to work with Jones at his dad’s firm. For suits who work in finance, they’re actually pretty good blokes. They know how to have a good laugh and aren’t pretentious fucks, which is half what I was expecting. Then we have Stone and Billy.
Mac was tempted to come, but I think his lady friend is taking up all of his free time. Jones was pretty relieved, because really, who wants to be in Vegas with his soon-to-be father-in-law tagging along? At least now, I won’t feel bad about the strippers we’ve organised.
A heat wave washes over us as we get out of the van. We all start cursing and high-fiving each other when we’re presented with a stellar line-up of luxury cars. It gets me hard thinking about these machines.
“You’ve got your choice of the black Lamborghini, the yellow Ferrari, the white Maserati or the red Corvette,” Terri the female ex-race car driver explains, as she walks beside the vehicles lined up against the curb. She’s been a pure professional since we arrived in the office, and I’ve gotta say, it’s a fucking turn-on listening to a woman who knows this much about cars. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing what she could do with one of these babies.
“Pair up. You’ll get the chance to change drivers a few times, as well as swap cars too, so it doesn’t really matter what you start with.”
“I bags the Lamborghini,” Jones barks. She tosses him the keys and Stone moves beside the car with him. The boys laugh and gawk at the car as if they’re seventeen again and going for their first burnout session.
“I’ll be driving the blue muscle car up front and Johnno will be in the Porsche out back.” She motions towards a short guy with brown hair, who’s wearing the same black polo shirt as she is. “We’ll communicate with the two-way radio as we guide you to Lake Mead, which is out east. Keep it on channel two. Once we get out there you might even get the chance to put your foot down.” She winks and hands the next set of keys to Brett.
“I’m not paying all that money to sit on the speed limit, you know,” Brett says, and cackles with Billy.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter under my breath. That douche doesn’t know when to shut his fucking mouth.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, freckles,” Terri teases. “That’s one hefty excess if there’s so much as a scratch on any of my cars.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mocks, in the dickiest attempt at an American accent I’ve heard yet. The fucker sounds more like Kermit the Frog.
“Just keep it safe, boys, and follow my lead.”
Steve and Nate jump in the Ferrari behind Jones’s car and Billy and Brett take the Maserati. I get to drive the convertible Corvette on my lonesome, which I couldn’t be happier about.
We move out onto the road in close succession, following Terri. I’m second last in the group. It takes a bit to adjust to driving on the wrong side of the road, but having someone guide you takes that stress away. Being in a machine like this, it takes all of my self-control not to speed off like a maniac. The accelerator is taunting me to push it. It’s such a tease, knowing what power lies beneath the bonnet. The engine’s purring like a kitten now, but give it time and it’ll be roaring like a fucking cheetah.
Within the blink of an eye, we turn off into what looks like a national park. The landscape of the desert is so surreal compared to anything I’ve ever seen. Rich earthy colours, like one big pallet of rust, are splashed across the horizon in large boulders and rock formations. It’s like looking at some kind of masterpiece, and nothing like the Australian landscape that I’ve seen. The sweeping turns curve around the mountains, intensifying the thrill of the ride.
Brett is driving like a lunatic—flat-out fast and then slow. Does he know how fucking annoying he is? I wish to fuck Jones hadn’t invited him, but I guess he couldn’t exactly ask the rest of the team and not him.
“Okay, boys. Follow my lead.” Terri’s voice comes across the two-way, all Smokey and the Bandit. The muscle car roars off into the distance, followed by the other boys in formation.
My knuckles whiten as I grip the steering wheel tight. I shift up a gear, listening to that sweet purr growing louder as the distance increases between me and the car in front. When there’s plenty of space, I slam down my right foot. The roar of the engine sends a shot of adrenaline right through me as I let loose. I breathe in deep as the wind whips through my hair. If only V was sitting in the passenger seat next to me—better yet, the driver’s seat. He’d soon forget all that shit from his past. The De Luca brothers in Vegas would be something to behold. Even without alcohol.
With the top down, the blinding sun and dry heat is so intense that my mobile phone in the centre console starts beeping a warning about being dangerously hot. I slide it under my arse to keep it out of the sun.