We end up back at his house in no time. I haven't spoke to my father in a good two days so I call him from the phone I snatched off the counter during my frantic race to save Dave. I keep reminding myself to get my own, with my own money without charity from Dave.
"Hi Da-"
"Kayla where the hell have you been it has been three fucking days and you're not home? Get here this instant" He clicks. Dave looks over at me.
"You heard that huh?" I laugh uneasily.
"If I have to call that asshole back myself I will how does he expect us to get there my car isn't ready yet?" He's raging, veins burning and all.
"Call and see if it is but before we do anything I need to buy me a phone. I think this is my dads spare." I roll the small Samsung around in my hands.
Dave calls the mechanic and from the look on his face, it's going to be a minute.
"What'd he say?"
"Too much damage was done to the engine and it crushed some parts under the hood blah blah I have to buy a new car." He reaches into his jacket that's thrown across the couch and pulls out a wad of cash. My jaw drops to the floor.
I knew he had money but this was just outrageous.
"Did you happen to rob a bank before you got into the accident?" I question.
He laughs, "No, are you actually surprised? Sweets how many times have I thrown my money around you?" He lifts a brow and walks towards me.
"Whatever, don't be a rich snob." I point a finger at him. "How are we going to get to the car dealership if we don't have a car to get there in the first place?" I drop my hands to my sides out of frustration. These past few days have been too much for me to handle mentally and physically. I need a break.
He walks towards the side door of the house, which surprisingly I had never noticed, opening it to reveal a shiny cherry red motorcycle, which I also had never noticed.
I walk towards the door, mouth on the ground. "How come I have never seen this?!" I practically shout. He shrugs "I had my car, never had a reason to pull it out."
"And you never bothered to even mention "oh hey by the way, i own a totally badass motorcycle, no biggie"" I mock.
"Nope." He grabs a helmet off a hook on the wall and a set of keys.
"What kind is it?"
"A 2016 Ducati 959 panigale, hop on." He pats the partial seat in the back. I grab the helmet out of his hands and push it down past my curls.
"No fuss?" He smirks and turns to look at me, genuinely shocked I didn't put up a fight. I didn't hesitate not one bit.
"Nope, drive loser." I wrap my arms around his waist. He slaps my thigh hard and revs the engine, pulling out of the garage.
He speeds down the street, bobbing and weaving in and out between cars. My hearts pounding against my chest and yet somehow I feel free.
