Dustin wriggles his body but keeps me held to his side, his arm slung around my neck and shoulder, his fingers tickling my arm. Forget about Tommy being a teenager. Now I am, and a swooning one who’s putty in Dustin Bridges’ hands.
“I thought you knew,” Dustin laughs out.
“No!” Tommy whines.
“I did.” Bailey’s quiet admission silences the three of us and we all stare at her as she holds her knees to her chest, peeking over them. She shrugs as my brother stands and holds outstretched palms in her direction.
“I thought everyone did!” Bailey pleads.
“No. Not everyone.” My brother is one breath away from uttering “harrumph.” Dustin and I can no longer contain our laughter. I roll to my side and he grabs his belly while we cackle at Tommy’s expense.
“You guys suck. Come on,” he says, marching between the recliner and the sofa to grab his jacket from the hook by the door.
We all quiet a little and exchange a few quick glances, but it’s pretty clear we all are in for this.
“Hell, yeah,” Dustin says, leaping over the couch and racing my brother for the Supra keys in the middle of the kitchen table. Dustin wins, but he tosses them to my brother as soon as we all get out the door.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I feel bad holding out on you and all,” Dustin answers.
Tommy grimaces, faking like he’s still mad, but his feet are practically hopping on the pavement. He can’t wait for this. He’s also going to get his ass kicked tonight. And I plan on recording every loving second.
I’ll be damned. Dustin was right. He and I follow Bailey and Tommy as they take the Supra about twenty-five miles east on Old Chapel Road. This stretch isn’t as smooth as the Straights were, but it’s empty of traffic, and that’s enough.
“How’d Ava find this place?” I ask Dustin.
“I guess this area was a mining town about a hundred years ago. O’er in them thar hills,” he jokes, pointing to the small peaks off in the distance. “This road was the main drag and led to, wait for it, the old chapel.”
I chuckle.
“Ava said her dad remembers when the mining crews drove down her before things closed up. It’s the first place that popped into her head when the council put those roundabouts in.”
The crowd isn’t as big as it was when we were in high school, but the vibe is still very much present. Music thumps from a lowrider that glows purple neon onto the ground. Tommy pulls the Supra in next to it and Dustin slips my car into the last space on that side of the road. As predicted, he’s recognized almost immediately—after a few people get excited at seeing the Supra only to be let down when my brother exits the car.
“No love for the mechanic, I swear,” he jokes.
We spend the first twenty minutes roaming the strip, breathing in the familiar scent of burnt oil and rubber on road. If I close my eyes, the street is the same.
“Baby Queen!” Ava’s voice calls out from a crowd and I scan faces until her outstretched arms poke through and she moves toward me. She started calling me that my senior year, when I spent nearly every Friday night behind the wheel of Dustin’s car. I got good, but none of us will ever be as good at the man standing behind me.
Ava pulls me into a hug, stuffing my face in her bosom. She’s dressed like a pinup, her hair piled on top of her head with a red and white bandana, her jeans tighter than I could dream of shoving my ass into, heels higher than ever. The woman knows her brand. She also knows how to work off baby weight like nobody’s business. I’m going to need tips.
“I hear you’re a mama now. Look at you, playing hooky.” She pulls away from our embrace and her eyes find Dustin behind me. Her smile falters just a hair, shifting into a suspicious curve as she points her long nails toward him then back to me.
“Oh, wait a minute. Are you two—?”
“Dustin’s the father,” I say, deciding to cut to the chase. I turn to find him wearing a surprised expression, clearly not at the news but that I let the facts spill out so easily. Perhaps I should be more guarded, but Ava is family.
“Shut up!” She shoves me with both hands and I back into Dustin’s embrace. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek, resting his chin in the crook of my neck and looking at one of our oldest friends.
“How ya doin’, Ava?”
She narrows her gaze and clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth before tapping her red nail on his nose.
“You dog,” she says.
“I’ve been called worse,” he replies.
“So who’s racing tonight? Baby Queen? Want me to set you up?”
“Actually, my brother finally wants to try his hand behind the wheel.” Tommy steps into view and puffs up his chest, though I know a part of him is scared shitless. He’s never pushed a car past one-twenty without freaking out. Even in the passenger seat, he’s a risk-averse mess.
“Oh, honey. You sure?”
Tommy groans and stomps back to the Supra, mumbling something about everyone being jerks.
“Give him someone easy,” Dustin says in a loud whisper. Ava winks and pulls the notebook from her back pocket.
The three of us go back to the car to wait with Tommy for his race to be called, and I hold on to Dustin’s arm while people take turns coming up to gush and shake his hand. Most are people we recognize, drivers we’ve known for years. But when a man none of us recognize walks up, Dustin slides me from his arm and pushes me behind him defensively. My heart races, and a million terrible thoughts battle in my head for significance. This was careless, coming out here. But it’s our town. It seemed safe.
“I’m with Motor World. Hawkins, Dale Hawkins,” the man says, handing a card to Dustin from a small metal case he pulls from his pocket.
I ease up and Dustin’s shoulders relax.
“Motor World, huh? What are you doing out here?”
Dale looks like a fifty-year-old skater, feet shoved into well-worn Vans, corduroy pants and a Santa Cruz sweatshirt I’m pretty sure actually came from Santa Cruz. I may be looking at the Dustin of the future.
“I’m looking for you, actually. I mean, not literally, but I’m researching a piece about you for the winter issue. Had to check out your old stomping ground and I planned on reaching out to take a tour of the track next week. I figured Thanksgiving and all, you’d be pretty busy.”
Dustin eyes his card then glances up to match the title to what he sees in front of him and the story Dale told. It feels legit, but he’s still guarded, so I remain behind him in the background with Bailey as my brother gets introduced.
The three of them talk about cars and the old Straights for a while, and Bailey and I tune them out. Then one of the man’s questions brings me roaring back to their conversation.
“It’s been awhile since the big win in Phoenix. There was a lot of buzz, and you were supposed to be the next coming of the circuit. Didn’t quite come to fruition—”
“Yet,” Dustin interjects.
Dale’s mouth hangs open and shifts into an intrigued smile.
“I see,” he finally says.
“I had some growing pains. Sure. But I’ve never been more secure in my environment, Dale. I think you’re about to see a whole new Dustin Bridges out there next weekend. In fact, you wanna ride tonight? It’s only a Supra, but—”