Spinning Out

Chapter 5

JAINA

This hoodie smells amazing. It's not cologne or anything that strong, more like fresh laundry and showered man. It's a little intoxicating. The noise all around us is overwhelming and I know I am out of my element. The plan sounded easier this morning, I would attend this car meet and find the cars with the worn tires. That would be the starting point to figure out who I needed to talk to about getting in the clubs. I watched countless videos and narrowed in a few cars I'd seen over and over.

"We can sit on the curb and eat if that's cool," Elijah says. He's holding a bag with our tacos as he motions for the empty curb in the parking lot.

"That's fine," I answer. Nathan would not be happy to hear I came to something like this alone, but I can't wait to tell him who I've run into.

We both sit down on the curb and he hands me a taco and some napkins after I set my drink at my feet. I watch him for a second, curious how our worlds have collided. If it weren't for him right now, I might give up and go home. I clearly need more research.

"So how long have you been into cars?" I ask.

His hazel eyes light up with the question. I hadn't noticed their color before, just that they gave the impression he doesn't sleep much. "There was never a time I wasn't into them. It's kind of a family tradition."

"Are you part of a club?" I ask. I don't know what I hoping for. If he says he is, I will be disappointed in him. I don't want to think of this kind boy who just bought me dinner and is letting me wear his hoodie as a guy capable of the atrocities I've seen caused by these clubs. However, I do need to get into the scene so having him be a member would be a really great start. I realize I'm in a state of suspended animation and move the taco to my mouth and force myself to chew. Act normal.

Elijah hesitates. His eyes dance across the cars in front of us and the crowds of people checking them out. Finally, they land back on me. "Adjacent?"

"What does that even mean? Is that the name of the club?" I pull my phone from my pocket so I can look it up, not even caring if he thinks I'm crazy or a stalker.

His laugh is deep but short. "No," he says. He shakes his head slightly. "My dad would kill me if I joined a club. It's not a good look for our business." He reaches for his drink and takes a sip slowly as if he still trying to form the next sentence. "But I love all things cars, so we don't see eye-to-eye there. My best friend is in a club. I know some people because of that. I guess I'm sort of a member, but not really. Adjacent."

A pit forms in my stomach. I want to warn him all about the dangers—to tell him what happened to my friend, but now I know he walks on both sides of the line. I might need his help and I can't scare him away or let him know I'm here looking for the person who put my friend into a wall.

"Got it. That's cool. My best friend and I share a lot of hobbies too. Not this one though," I say. My throat tightens again. Every time I mention Nathan sadness takes over. I can't help the montage of images that play in my head. All the hobbies we've shared. Digging for dinosaurs, model building, every new video game, concerts—the list goes on and on. I've had over a decade building this life where he was a main character, and now I fear my page will turn and I'll have to leave him in this chapter alone. What if he never gets out of that bed?

"You ok?" Elijah asks. I realize I've been staring off, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat. I've learned that deep breathing helps too. If I can breathe in through my nose for a long count of four and then out through my mouth, I can usually stop the tears before they fall.

"Yea. Just looking at the cars," I lie.

"What about you? Why the sudden interest in cars?" he asks.

I've practiced this. I know exactly what I want to say to members of car clubs and people who might be able to get me information. But in this moment, I struggle to say the words I've rehearsed. For some reason, I don't want to lie to this man.

"I have a lot of curiosity I guess," I answer. It's the truth. Not the whole truth, of course, but enough of the truth to not be a lie.

He watches me. His eyes taking in my expression a but skeptically. "There's a lot of cool things to see at meets like this. You wanted to know about the clubs?"

"Yea, like how would someone get into one?" I ask.

"You just hang around them long enough. Some are car brand specific, others are area, and some are just by interest. Really depends on the club," he answers.

I'm about to follow up with more questions but the cars start to leave the lot. It's quick. I have no idea what's going on. Elijah motions for me to hurry with the taco in my hand.

"Come on, show's about to start." He grabs the bag of trash and heads for the nearest trash can. I follow him, unsure what show he's talking about. The cars start to file out of the lot and onto the street, first stopping at the traffic light. I can see a few cop cars in the distance. They are just sitting and watching. As far as I know, nothing is illegal about meeting up in a parking lot. In fact, this is a sponsored event that required a permit from the city.

The crowd around us grows thicker as the patrons start moving towards the grassy patches that line the outer edge of the lot. I almost lose him in the rush.

"Here," he says, reaching out his hand. I put my inside it. He gives me a little tug forward and tucks my behind him as we make our way over to commotion.

Cars are lines up to leave. There's the roar of some engines and also the smoke from the burning of rubber tires. I can hear it happening, but the crowd makes it nearly impossible to see where it is all coming from. Finally, as the line of cars start to move, the road opens up enough to allow for the drivers to peel out from their parked positions. People all around us have their phones up and are filming as the cars begin to spin their tires and fill the air with smoke. Elijah pulls me closer and I feel myself hiding behind him, but also wanting to watch.

"You're ok here," he tells me. I'm behind him, peering over his shoulder as the cars start fleeing the lot. My heart is beating quickly and I know he must feel the way my hand is sweating in his.

A grey corvette makes a right turn from the lot, fishtailing and barely missing a group of spectators as they film his departure. The cop across the street hits his lights and sirens and the cars still waiting to leave seem to get restless. The lanes spill out on to the highway, against the light and in all directions. The two cops who were sent to watch don't have a shot at all catching every car, and the drivers take advantage of that situation and take off quickly in opposite directions, spraying the air around them with smoke from the spinning tires.