➯ "𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲?"
the bittersweet story of a 16-year-old south-side greaser and her chaotic life as the infamous kid sister of dallas winston. life in tulsa, oklahoma isn't easy with the f...
i screamed so loud and so off guard that the boys stopped their conversation and looked at me all confused and funny. their gazes followed mine as i walked outside through the open garage slide-up door.
"is this it?!" i was fully surprised by the look of the exterior, knowing damn well that this was not anything that steve described, but window paint labeled "winston" gave it directly away.
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i've been a drag racer for about six-ish months now. i filled in for some guy at my school when he had the chicken pox and his 'sponsor' liked me so much that he took me on as a client along with the guy i subbed for. 'sponsors' basically let you borrow their usually stolen or illegal cars for the usually illegal and dangerous races. still, once you win, you split the profit 50/50. it costs 100 bucks to enter a race but you get 300 plus once you win, depending on who's betting on or against you in the stands.
my sponsor jonah was some guy in his mid 20's from kansas. not gunna lie, we really don't know much about him other than the fact that he gets some pretty rad cars literally from thin air.
"hell yeahhh!" soda seemed just as giddy as i did as he raced up to meet me by my side.
i let out a pretty girly scream and grabbed him by the hand, practically sprinting out to the car on the lot, dragging him behind me as i ran.
"this is literally the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire fucking life!" basically drooling over the car, i dropped his hand and cupped mine on the window, trying to block out the sun to see the interior.
its light tan leather coated each seat and its silver accents made my heart skip a few beats.
"this is like the nicest car that jonah's let me use!" i couldn't hide my excitement and was so far away from even wanting to try to suppress it.
this car was that insanely gorgeous.
two, steve, and pony came running down the lot, admiring the car with googly eyes before pony ran a finger over its paint in amusement. steve said he'd seen the car yesterday but soda made him promise to keep a secret. i was almost surprised that he kept his mouth shut that long. usually with him, secrets last 3 hours concealed, and then the cats far out of the bag.
"yeah well, friday's race is the tulsa showdown... the prettier the car, the more money's on ya." steve looked at me with eyebrows raised and i smiled back so big that he almost looked scared.
we talked a bit more about the race before soda ran to get the keys from the garage. he showed me and the boys the inside as he voiced his concerns about how dangerous this race was from the rest. he mentioned that at 16 years old, i'd be the youngest there, racing against adults who were much more than six months experienced. he was always worried about me. especially behind the wheel of any car. i was a drag racer for a reason. reckless driving was kind of my thing.
