car race which ended up becoming an annual tradition. As we drove to the meeting spot, Clint explained that along with him as the submission from the Lappell, there would be cars from the secret societies ‘ Ravine ’, ‘ Winchester ’ and ‘ Mortese ’. As we drove towards the mountains, traffic became less and less until we were the only car on the road. We had to make a few more turns before we arrived at the checkpoint.
There were at least twenty or more cars at the checkpoint which was a spot by the side of the road, in front of a long stretch of road leading into the mountainside. After parking the car, we both hopped out and I followed Clint over to where a group of college students were congregating next to a very sexy yellow Ferrari FF. For a second, I was pretty happy that my father also appreciated luxury cars and that I had gained some knowledge of them too.
A lean preppy-looking guy with very short black hair approached us. “Weston, I didn’t think you were going to show. We even had a pool going to see if you would turn up. Seems I lost.”
Clint grabbed my hand; I could feel his palm sweat. “Sorry to hear that Hale, but I hope you are prepared to lose more than that tonight.”
Nice Clint, nice.
The preppy guy laughed, “That’s funny coming from you and your club, especially since you haven’t won in the last five years.”
Clint squeezed my hand a little tighter, “Well, that’s about to change.”
The preppy guy patted Clint’s shoulder, “Let’s do this.”
As we turned to walk back to the car, the preppy guy yelled out, “Do you want to make it more interesting Weston?” In unison we both swung our backs round to face him.
“How?” Clint sounded wary.
The preppy guy looked me up and down, “Well, since you are so sure of yourself, how about we play for trophies then?”
Clint laughed, “I don’t need another car Hale.”
“Oh I wasn’t referring to the car, Weston.” And his eyes locked on mine. Clint stiffened and moved me so I was behind him out of the preppy guy’s line of sight.
Were women simply objects to all these secret societies?
“Forget it. Absolutely no way.” Clint’s voice was edgy now, almost fierce.
“I guess you’re not so sure after all.” His words were laced in cowardice.
Clint went to lead me back to the car when I turned and blurted out, “You’ve got it.”
The preppy guy snickered.
Clint pulled me into his body and leaned in so no one could hear us talk, “Norah, what the hell are you doing?”
I put my hand on his shoulder, “Showing that I believe in you.” His eyes gleamed with adoration. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, “Just don’t lose OK.”
He smiled confidently, “For you, never.”
Clint lifted his head and yelled back to the preppy guy, “Alright Hale, if you win, you can take her out to dinner, and if I win, the Lappell get first pick next year.”
I had no idea what Clint meant, but the preppy guy looked deep in thought. He turned back to the group then turned and eyed me again.
“Alright, you’re on. Although I’m sure it will be more than just dinner, right beautiful.” He blew me a kiss.
I felt like throwing up in my mouth.
Clint lead me back to the Lamborghini. “Are you coming with me, or would you prefer to stay here and wait for it to be over?” Clint clearly didn’t want to put me into a dangerous situation without my consent.
“I’ll come with you if you like.”
He squeezed my hand again, “I was hoping you’d say that.” We leaned up against the car, and watched as group started to disperse into the four societies each of the cars represented.
“So who is your competition exactly?” I asked taking in the whole excitement of the scene.
“Well…” and he pointed to the right, “over by the Jaguar is Damian Rutherford from Winchester… and next to him is the Maserati, driven by Marcus Hetherington from Ravine… and the guy I just spoke to was Wes Hale from Mortese.
There were at least twenty or more cars at the checkpoint which was a spot by the side of the road, in front of a long stretch of road leading into the mountainside. After parking the car, we both hopped out and I followed Clint over to where a group of college students were congregating next to a very sexy yellow Ferrari FF. For a second, I was pretty happy that my father also appreciated luxury cars and that I had gained some knowledge of them too.
A lean preppy-looking guy with very short black hair approached us. “Weston, I didn’t think you were going to show. We even had a pool going to see if you would turn up. Seems I lost.”
Clint grabbed my hand; I could feel his palm sweat. “Sorry to hear that Hale, but I hope you are prepared to lose more than that tonight.”
Nice Clint, nice.
The preppy guy laughed, “That’s funny coming from you and your club, especially since you haven’t won in the last five years.”
Clint squeezed my hand a little tighter, “Well, that’s about to change.”
The preppy guy patted Clint’s shoulder, “Let’s do this.”
As we turned to walk back to the car, the preppy guy yelled out, “Do you want to make it more interesting Weston?” In unison we both swung our backs round to face him.
“How?” Clint sounded wary.
The preppy guy looked me up and down, “Well, since you are so sure of yourself, how about we play for trophies then?”
Clint laughed, “I don’t need another car Hale.”
“Oh I wasn’t referring to the car, Weston.” And his eyes locked on mine. Clint stiffened and moved me so I was behind him out of the preppy guy’s line of sight.
Were women simply objects to all these secret societies?
“Forget it. Absolutely no way.” Clint’s voice was edgy now, almost fierce.
“I guess you’re not so sure after all.” His words were laced in cowardice.
Clint went to lead me back to the car when I turned and blurted out, “You’ve got it.”
The preppy guy snickered.
Clint pulled me into his body and leaned in so no one could hear us talk, “Norah, what the hell are you doing?”
I put my hand on his shoulder, “Showing that I believe in you.” His eyes gleamed with adoration. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, “Just don’t lose OK.”
He smiled confidently, “For you, never.”
Clint lifted his head and yelled back to the preppy guy, “Alright Hale, if you win, you can take her out to dinner, and if I win, the Lappell get first pick next year.”
I had no idea what Clint meant, but the preppy guy looked deep in thought. He turned back to the group then turned and eyed me again.
“Alright, you’re on. Although I’m sure it will be more than just dinner, right beautiful.” He blew me a kiss.
I felt like throwing up in my mouth.
Clint lead me back to the Lamborghini. “Are you coming with me, or would you prefer to stay here and wait for it to be over?” Clint clearly didn’t want to put me into a dangerous situation without my consent.
“I’ll come with you if you like.”
He squeezed my hand again, “I was hoping you’d say that.” We leaned up against the car, and watched as group started to disperse into the four societies each of the cars represented.
“So who is your competition exactly?” I asked taking in the whole excitement of the scene.
“Well…” and he pointed to the right, “over by the Jaguar is Damian Rutherford from Winchester… and next to him is the Maserati, driven by Marcus Hetherington from Ravine… and the guy I just spoke to was Wes Hale from Mortese.
Similar Books
