Driving River

Chapter Four

River

In the world of racing, a driver evacuating his vehicle is an inevitable shame. But when a driver abandons his copilot, that's considered sacrilege.

"You left me, Rafi," Kendall hisses into her phone, covering her mouth like it will prevent me from overhearing. I'm seated next to her, eyes on the road, but my ears are tuned to her conversation. "What was I supposed to do?"

Raphael's car breaking down didn't come as a surprise—he's modified the engine to within an inch of its life. Just after their stall, I got a call from Birdie, my eye in the sky. He commands a drone during the races, and lets me know if there are complications—someone driving haphazardly, a crash, or police presence. When he said the cops were closing in, I didn't hesitate. I had a feeling I'd find Kendall alone in that car.

Raphael should be grateful I had the common decency to turn around for his girl. Instead, it sounds like he's giving her grief for getting in my vehicle. Although, she did just inform him she's coming home with me. That could be the cause of their quarrel.

I have a house in the Hamptons. I'm not driving all the way back to Brooklyn to drop Kendall off. Besides, there's the police issue. Birdie told me the cops are impounding Raphael's car. He used a magnet to obscure his license, but once they run the plates, it will lead them straight to the owner. Raphael is an undocumented immigrant, which means Kendall registered his Mustang. They'll be looking for her, not him.

"You can stay with Viktor and Dara," Kendall tells him, "but I'd rather not be alone with the three of you."

Considering what happened at my party last week, I don't blame the girl. If Raphael is crashing on Viktor's sofa, there will be alcohol and weed involved. Who knows what Kendall will be pressured into this time?

Surprisingly, my chest warms. Kendall sees me as the safer option. She'd rather risk a night with a stranger than her own boyfriend. Given my unconventional appearance, most people take one look at me and walk in the opposite direction. I've worked hard to have that effect on my fellow humans—piercings, tattoos, an omnipresent scowl. But Kendall isn't scared. Not completely, at least. And that's... kind of nice.

Kendall continues her conversation with Raphael, their argument a vicious cycle. She repeats herself at least three times. It's a wonder she has so much patience with him—I would've ended the call ages ago.

As they bicker, I pull into a drive thru, ordering an array of fast food. Her stomach has been rumbling since she got in my car. I don't know if she's aware of her own hunger, but it's irritating me. Not the noise, but the evidence that she hasn't been fed.

"I'm not going to have sex with him!" Kendall shrieks. The cashier at the window passes my debit card to me, raising a brow. I smile back at him, shrugging. "Do you really think so little of me?"

Oh, how I'd love to hear Raphael's response to that. Their relationship is an absolute train wreck. If Kendall's defensiveness is a clue, her boyfriend only lets her fuck people that he approves of. I'm certain he's always in attendance as well, directing and supervising the intercourse.

Kendall is younger than both me and Raphael, but she's been with him for three years. He's been grooming her—molding her sexuality, as well as her obedience, so she's complicit in her own abuse. What's worse, she probably calls it love.

"I'm so angry with you," Kendall states, lowering her voice. I'm impressed with the amount of venom she infuses into her words. "Don't bother me for the rest of the night."

Rest of the night? She should've ended the sentence at 'don't bother me.' I roll my lips, keeping my opinions to myself. Kendall pockets her phone, sighing dramatically. She runs her fingers through her glossy hair, brushing it away from her face. Not knowing what to say, I slide a cardboard carton onto her lap, hoping the grease doesn't stain her designer jeans.