Breakdown (Crash into Me) (22 page)

Leaning by a black BMW, he was harder to find than I thought, but once I did, I sighed in relief. Being with William on a bad day seemed better than being alone with myself on a good day. As my eyes focused in the rain, however, I realized he was hiding more than I was, his back toward me and his hands focused on something in front of him. 

“What are you doing?” Squinting in the dark, I made sure no one else was around before I continued my lecture. “Is this your car?”

He turned to me, and through the rain I saw him smile.

“Is it at least one of your friend’s cars?”

Street racing was one thing. At worse, if I got caught, I figured I’d get a fine and maybe have to serve some community service. For a first offense I’d probably just get send home with a slap on the wrist. But an accessory to auto theft? How much complaining would I hear from Mom if I needed a lawyer? Would I even be able to live with it if I did? At the same time, though, I imaged the handcuffs being slapped on my wrists while my rights were read, police cars chasing after us while we ran red lights. I envisioned it with such intensity I could feel the metal on my wrists, hear the sirens echo in my ears…

“Okay,” I sighed with feigned anger, but already I could feel the excitement beginning to build. “How are we doing this?”

“Get on the other side and keep lookout,” William whispered. “If a valet comes around just act like it’s our car.”

Already, my heart was pounding, the blood in my body inconsistent and unsure where it was supposed to go or what it was supposed to do. Eagerly, I listened, not caring about the puddles I stepped in or the lukewarm water that flooded my shoes. In truth, I barely felt it, a tingling sensation starting to creep through my fingers and neck. It was so intense, it briefly occurred to me that I might be having a stroke—especially with the weird buzz I started to feel in my ears every few seconds. But since it wasn’t at all painful I quickly ruled it out and focused instead on the sound of the driver door opening and William’s light laugh while the engine started up. Maybe it was the buzzing in my ears, or the combination of rain and wind, but I could have sworn that his laugh was slightly different than I had ever heard it before. I made a note of this just as the rest of the locks came undone and he rolled down the passenger window. 

“Are you still with me, Jumper? Because if you’re not, that’s okay—”

I should have known he would try to talk me out of it, like waving a lollypop in front of a kid before swiping it away. By this point, however, I was literally bouncing in the puddle I stood in—a terrible lookout if there ever was one—and there was nothing that was going to take me from this new source of adrenaline. Still shaking, I got in the car and tried to keep myself steady. Failing miserably by the sound of his laugh, I put on my seatbelt while he pulled his beanie lower and arranged the sun visor to the side.

“Just in case a valet looks in this direction.” He shrugged.

I let go of the seatbelt, looking all around like a frightened jackrabbit. “I—you—shouldn’t we be wearing gloves or something?”

“Nobody’s gonna find this car, Jumper.” He straightened his posture and looked both ways before pulling out of the restaurant parking lot. “Or at least enough of it to find fingerprints. Are you worried?”

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

Worry? I wasn’t worried, I was excited, thrilled—the rush hitting me even with the dull throb of the classic music that played on the radio station. Looking at me, anyone might have thought the hair that stood on end on my arms was a reaction of the cold, my dilated pupils the result of fear over being caught. In reality I was excited instead, every second my heart beating faster with the potential of what we were doing.

Somehow, it ended up being so much easier than I imagined. There were no sirens, no flashing lights, not even as much as the screeching of tires. And no sooner had I really began to enjoy it, we were stopped at a curbside garage. On the brick siding, a digitally printed sign proudly displayed a chequered flag and the name Chop Shop Garage.

After unlocking the garage doors, William got back in the car just long enough to pull it inside. I struggled to find the car handle in the dark while his footsteps echoed away. Even if I didn’t know where we were, the echo and darkness alone would have told me we were inside a large space, somewhere vast and wide. Although my eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, I didn’t stray from the car—silently wishing that William would reach out for me. Knowing he wouldn’t, however, I breathed deep the grungy smell of diesel and something like leather, instantly recognizing it as the smell that had infiltrated my senses so many times when I was around William.

I blinked hard when the lights came on, bright fluorescent beams that buzzed at me from above. William seemed oblivious to them while he shut the garage doors down behind us. I took that opportunity to take in the dull white paint on the concrete walls and the horrendous shade of hunter green on the floor.

“Where are we?”

“This is where I work.” Like a rambunctious puppy, he shook the rain from his hair and grinned at me wildly.

“Really?” Workbenches that stuck out of the wall were dirty and stained with what looked like paint and oil. Above one of the benches, a variety of stencils hung on nails, but other than a few tool boxes and shell bodies covered by plastic tarps, there wasn’t much to indicate that it was a body shop at all. “But it’s so… clean.”

“You say that like you’re surprised, Jumper.”

I ran my hand along a workbench and looked at my fingers. There wasn’t even a speck of dust. “I have seen where you live.”

Before he looked away, he smiled.

“Seriously, all the chop shops I’ve seen on online look dangerous.”

Half-insulted, he moved from the hood of the car to sit in a makeshift lobby area. “This isn’t like other chop shops, Jumper.”

I peered over the check-out counter, smiling at the dirty fingerprints on the register. “So this is a chop shop?”

I was still looking at the garage’s business cards when I felt the tension between us again. “You can’t tell anybody. You know that, don’t you, Jumper?”

“And admit I was an accomplice in an auto theft?” I shook my head as I smiled. “No thanks.”

I turned from the counter and back to William, a horrible thought coming over me. “I-Is that why you took me long with you just now? So if I went to the police my character could be called into question?”

He smiled widely. “I wish I had thought of that. No, I figured if you went to the cops I could just tell them how we met.”

“Show off how crazy I am?” I nodded. “Good idea.”

“You’re not crazy, Jumper.” William’s voice was sad, soft. Though I couldn’t quite place it, I thought maybe he was ashamed. “But the cops don’t have to know that.”

I walked to the other side of the garage, letting my eyes run up and down the metal wall that clearly opened up to the other side. When I sat down next to William, I rested my scarred hand on top of his.

I didn’t have any words when he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm.

“I figured I’d tell them how we met, say that you were madly in love with me, but I rejected you—”

I tried to clear my head of the fog he had filled it with. “And I was making up lies to get even.”

He nodded. “More or less.”

“How long have you been stealing cars?”

“I nabbed my first one when I was eleven I think. So about fifteen years now, give or take intervals of obeying the law.”

“Eleven?” I laughed. “You stole your first car when you were eleven?”

William’s eyes illuminated with pride. “My buddy Finn and me—it was his grandmas.”

“A hell-raiser, huh?”

“My mom beat me black and blue for if it makes you feel any better.”

I smiled as I saw the entire scene in my head like a movie. “What does that have to do with the Black Saints?” I nodded to the car we had stolen. 

He smiled half-heartedly and gave me back my hand. Instantly, I regretted bringing up the subject. “I was friends with a lot of the Black Saints, grew up with them, drank with them…” Shaking his head, he sighed. “When they needed a quick buck they’d hire me to do a few jobs for them.”

Since this wasn’t anything I hadn’t already pictured, I leaned back in my chair and nodded. “So you’re not a member of the Black Saints?”

William shrugged, but still failed to smile completely. “The boss liked what I was doing, and since my pop had been a member they wanted me for their crew.”

I smiled wryly. “That’s the second time I’ve asked you that question and you still haven’t answered completely.” 

Finally, he grinned. “No, Jumper, I’m not a Saint. Taking cars you haven’t paid for may be a crime, but it isn’t a sin to take something from people who don’t appreciate it.”

I agreed with him completely. After all, wasn’t that one of the reasons I disliked my mother so much, because she had so much and appreciated so little? Anyway, there was a difference between stealing luxury cars from people who made six figures a years and stealing food from a child.

“Why did you have to leave Boston then?”

“The Black Saints are a violent bunch of bastards. They started harassing me when I told them to shove off, and when that didn’t work they started bothering my sisters where they worked…” For a moment, and only for a moment, his eyes narrowed and turned dark. “I couldn’t prove it, but I’m sure they were the ones who killed my pop in the first place. They had to get me to join, understand? Accept money and get me into the fold. I knew too much otherwise.”

“William, I-I don’t know what to say.”

Like me, he leaned back and tried to smile. “From what I gather, most of them have been locked up since last year. Either that or they ran off when the incitements came out.”

I nodded like dumb child I was. I thought I had problems? William had to leave his home and was practically stalked by a gang that had probably murdered his father. Now he had a not-so-depressed-girl in his life.

My situation was looking better and better. 

Eventually, I heard him pipe up over my thoughts. “How do you feel anyway, about all this, about what I do?”

“Excited,” I admitted.

He sighed in relief. “Is that all?” With shifty eyes he looked up at me before quickly looking away again. “I mean, you don’t hate me or anything? I thought for sure at a minimum you’d want to stop hanging out with me.”

“No!” Panic ravaged me from all angles but I reeled myself in quickly. “I mean, I don’t mind what you do. I think it’s interesting, and even if I didn’t, there isn’t any reason we can’t stop being friends over it.”

“You might not think that if you knew me better, Jumper,” he said sadly.

Sitting up, I nudged him with my elbow. “I’m beginning to doubt that.”

I wandered around the garage, aware of his eyes on me, but not sure what to do about it. Instead of saying anything though, or even looking back at that trademark smile of his, I peeked under the loose tarps that covered the cars. Smiling when I saw the cars that looked complete, I frowned when I saw the ones that were only frames.

It was the last car in the line that caught my attention the most, dark purple with a shimmering finish and wide slotted headlights. There was something appealing about the low slope of the hood and the retro front end but I didn’t dare touch it. Instead, I leaned in closer and admired the leather interior, smiling so wide my face practically hurt.

“Do you like that?” The sound of William’s boots scuffing on the concrete floor echoed as he moved to join me. I went to protest when he moved to pull back the rest of the tarp, but when I saw him smile with that intense look of his, I knew there wasn’t any stopping him. “It’s a 74’ Pontiac firebird.”

I swept my feet against the floor. “It’s, uh, very purple.”

William rolled his eyes and dragged the tarp to the corner. “In 1974 Pontiac released a special version of this car called the Super Duty 455 with a strong cylinder block and a 4-bolt main bearing. Cosmo and I restored it along with the original forged crankshaft and aluminum pistons.”

“Cosmo?” I had to admit I was slightly surprised. Cosmo seemed more clown than criminal. Then again, what did I know about criminals? “He works with you? Stealing cars and stuff?”

“Yeah.” William’s smile faded as he scratched the back of his head. “But I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Thanks, Jumper,” he said gratefully. “I appreciate that.”

Meanwhile, I was concentrating on trying to blame my imagination for feeling that William was checking me out. Then again, I thought, all too recently my imagination was running amuck—giving William the face of an outlaw when something else told me otherwise. What if then my imagination wasn’t my imagination at all, but my instincts instead? Was it possible I could rely on my thoughts after all?

I felt his eyes leave me and wander back to the hood of the car. “Firebird,” he scoffed and stepped closer to me, making my stomach rise up and down like a broken elevator. “It kind of reminds me of you.”

“It does?” I crossed my arms over myself and pretended to look offended. “I didn’t know I was so purple.”

“No,” he laughed. “Firebird—like a phoenix or something.”

“I have nothing in common with a firebird,” I said defensively. “And even less in common with this car.”

“You’re like a phoenix, Jumper.” Reaching forward as he took another step, William brushed a piece of the hair back from the side of my face. “Up from the ashes to rise again…”

Rise again? Is that what I was doing? In the last few days I had felt better than I had in months, smiling, laughing, and even looking forward to things again. Whether it was because of William and racing, new friends, or even the sessions I had with the student counselor I wasn’t entirely sure. But maybe, I thought, it was a combination of all three. Still, I wasn’t used to compliments—had lived an entire childhood without an ounce of praise—and I had no idea how to deal with it.

“I liked stealing a car with you, Do-gooder.” I backed away from him just enough to breathe again. “It was wonderful.”