“Oh, no problem. I’m just here to watch the Devyn. . .er, the cars. Maybe we can get together later?”
“Oh, that sounds delightful. Michael,” she calls over to her assistant. “Schedule some time for me to meet up with Larsen, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man murmurs as he marks on his clipboard, but even as his hands move I don’t miss the malicious glare in his eyes. Eyes trained on me.
“Until then. It was a pleasure.”
“Likewise,” I reply just as they turn to grab a plate of food and retreat to a trailer off to the side.
Off in the distance, I hear someone shout that everyone is to remain quiet on set. Forgetting the cookie in my hand, I walk toward the chainlink fence separating us from the track. A sleek car sits on the winding path, the layout reminding me more of a winding mountain road than one of the many races I’ve seen aired on the television.
Across the way, a clapboard snaps at the director’s calling and then the car shoots off from its position. From where we stand, we can’t see much of the track, but a projection screen has been installed off to the side for viewing.
I turn my attention to the screen, watching in amazement as the car zips down the path, Devyn maneuvering the metal contraption as if it’s no more than a metal toy. In the distance, I can see that a particularly tight turn is approaching, but instead of taking the turn slowly, Devyn drifts the back of the car into the twist.
Awe powers through me at his achievement. I watch in amazement as he completes the series of turns, the brake lights never lighting as he anticipates the speed needed to increase and decrease.
The director shouts, “Cut!” and I turn away from the screen, readying myself to see Devyn again. I have to wonder what Tessa told him to get him to focus so well or if he performed so well just to rid me out of his mind. With my back facing the track, I make my way over to the area Tessa had left me, making sure she can find me easily in the crowd.
Cries clatter around me. Shouts of astonishment.
Curious I turn to look back at the screen, wondering what has everyone in alarm.
A blaze overtakes the screen. Beneath the fire sits the car Devyn was driving, the hood crushed from running into one of the concrete barriers. It seems surreal, and I have to wonder if this is staged for the movie. I can’t look away, waiting like everyone else for Devyn to exit the vehicle.
An urge overtakes me as I wait for something, anything to happen – I need to get to him.
I rush toward the fence, my exhausted limbs trying to scale the metal mass, but I’m pulled off by security.
“I need to get to him. Please. Let me go to him!” I cry, but the guard shakes his head and tosses me back into the crowd.
Right now, I imagine I appear like a crazed fan running around the space trying to find a way to get to a celebrity. My face is wild and frantic as I look toward an escape but find none.
Suddenly I’m stopped short as a hand latches onto my arm.
“I can take you.”
“Yes. Thank you so much,” I reply as I follow him toward a waiting car.
In my harried state, I don’t take in the wild eyes or tightening grip, my focus solely on getting to Devyn.
Except my plan is thwarted the moment I slip into the back seat and a cloth is placed over my mouth and nose, the scent lulling me into a deep sleep, my awareness slipping away as I drown into oblivion.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – DEVYN
Ten days of giving up on everything. And as I stare at the amber liquid sitting on the counter before me, I’m about to toss it all away for nothing. Toss it away for the sweet and burning taste of a drink. But it doesn’t matter. I haven’t felt alive since I left that apartment walking away from Larsen.
I’m wasting away.
With a shudder, I pour a finger of bourbon into the glass. I just want to make it all go away.
The pain.
The hurt.
The cold.
I instinctively bring the glass to my mouth, letting the smell drift through my nostrils, filling my lungs, but I can’t bring myself to take a sip. I fight the addiction. Somewhere in the back of my mind