"I can't, Axl."
"Yes you can, Chas."
"I'm scared."
"Don't be scared, baby. There's nothing to be afraid of."
My knuckles are bright white, wrapped around the steering wheel of the Camaro. I can hardly see over the dash, and the hood that stretches on forever. Even in park, I can feel the engine humming steadily. How powerful this car is. A deathtrap, with me behind the wheel.
Axl sits where I normally am, in the passenger's. He doesn't wear a seatbelt.
"I can't drive to my casting. It's too far," I protest. "I don't want to. I don't wanna crash."
When Axl offered to let me drive his expensive, fast, goregous car that was made the year I was born, I wasn't going to say no. I figured it would be up the street and back. Material for him to use when making fun of me and my wide turns. Nothing else.
Not a full on driving lesson, even though my test is this week. Not him coaching me on how to not crash.
Up the street, then back.
The look on Axl's face is one of disbelief. "You think you're gonna crash my car?"
"Mhm," I nod, without a doubt. So much money. Practically every bit of his share of the Geffen contract. Gone. . .
"No, you won't," Axl replies simply.
"Yes I will, Axl-"
"You're a good driver, Chassy. You've impressed me. You can do it! And don't you have to be there by two?" Axl points to the clock on the dash. "It's one. You're gonna be late. And that guy, the one you think is 'expensive', what's his name? He's gonna be mad at you-"
"His name is Paul, and why can't you just drive? I like watching you drive. Please, Axl. Don't make me do this," I plead, desperation in my voice. My fingers feel numb as I tighten my grip with how uneasy I feel.
The freeway. Traffic. Stop signs. Parallel parking. Cops.
"You like watchin' me drive? I like watchin' you drive, honey." Axl leans over, grinning as he pushes my hair out of his way. His nose brushes against my cheek as he kisses the corner of my mouth. "You get that look on your face when you drive-the same one you get when you're thinking about sex."
"I-I do not-"
"Yeah," He breathes, air fanning out over my cheek. "You do."
Without another word, I shift the car into drive, easing down onto the gas.
"Good girl. You're gonna want to keep straight, till we hit the-"
"Freeway. I know," I side eye him, but only for a second. My tightly wound hands cramp, but I don't relax my grip. It's the only thing keeping me from becoming a quivering mess while going thirty miles an hour.
That 'good girl' echoes through my head, shooting right to my heart. And between my legs.
I try to focus on the road, I really do. Even though every revolution of the wheels means that I'm closer and closer to my first modeling gig.
"I'm scared," I repeat after I've already merged onto the freeway.
"You're doing just fine baby-"
"Not about driving anymore. I'm scared that I'm going to do horrible at this thing. I don't even know what's gonna happen." I shake my head in disbelief, eyes glued to the road. A frown makes my lips droop at the corners.
