Beware of Boys (9 page)

Bobsy nodded in agreement. “Eden has to roll with the guys to set up. She'll be working on some things for the event in the morning, while some of the landscapers work on yard and the masons finish the new fence, so she sends her apologies. She'll meet you there, and Lex's dad will take you. An even bigger heads-up: be ready and on time. Lex's dad waits for no one, and I have some trainer stuff to take care of, so I can't go,” Bobsy added.

“ 'K.” Charly pivoted and put her index finger to her lips. She cringed, holding the sides of her head. The room started moving. Closing her lids for a second, she tried to still it. Her sudden dizziness combined with extreme exhaustion told her Lex's magic juice had worn off and she was crashing from her herbal high. “Not now,” she chastised herself. “I can't be tired now!”

She diverted her attention to the task at hand. “What to wear? What to wear? What to wear?” She paused, flashes of the clothes she'd brought with her moving through her mind, but she couldn't mentally put an outfit together, not with the room spinning, her brain banging, and her feeling as though someone had sucked the life out of her. Droplets of sweat cascaded down her forehead, and she suddenly felt an internal chill.

“Bobsy, you did say two hours, right? Do you think you can wake me in an hour? I have to lie down, and I'm too tired to trust hearing my phone's alarm.”

Bobsy's head shook. “I'm not sure if I'll be finished with my treatment in time, so I can't promise, but I'll try. I can ask Whip though. He shouldn't be busy.”

“Treatment?” Charly asked, her brows crinkled together and her knees almost buckling from sudden weakness.

Bobsy's head reared back in surprise; then he stretched out his arm. “Yes, therapy. Physical. I can't help train if I'm not in tip-top training condition. It's mandatory.”

Charly nodded. It made sense. “Okay, I'll just rest for a second,” she told herself, looking at the clock. She stretched across the mattress.

C
harly opened her lids and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Her lips stretched into a faint smile. She'd awoken early and on her own. She'd only closed her eyes for a couple of minutes, and already her headache was gone and the room had stopped spinning.

“Yes,” she said, rolling off the bed, feeling exhilarated. Not only was she feeling better, she had an idea of what she should wear. Humming her way to the closet, she selected and slipped into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and the running sneakers she'd gotten from Lex. “Now, just a little bit of music,” she said, grabbing her cell to play her playlist. “Oh no!” she panicked, seeing the time on the phone. 9:13
AM
.
Her eyes ping-ponged back and forth between her cell and the clock, then she winced when she realized the digits on the nightstand hadn't changed since she'd last looked. “It's tomorrow? Morning? Can't be!” Her calendar alarm popped up with a reminder:
GIRLS' EVENT. DRESS TO IMPRESS!!!!!!

 

With the speed of a sprinter, Charly disrobed, ran and showered, put on her makeup, combed her hair, and was back at the closet. She grabbed a yellow backless halter sundress, and a snazzy pair of five-inch heels. Within seconds, she was in the outfit and shoes, had tossed her cell into her purse and was out the door. She ran into the living area, making her way to the front door. She grabbed the knob, twisted it, then opened it with all her might, moving at top speed. “I'm dressed and ready to go,” she began, then trailed off. A car could be seen driving away in the distance, and it was much too far away for her to stop it. Charly gulped. Bobsy had told her that the event was first thing this morning, but there was no way they would've left without her, she thought. She looked around, and there was no one in sight. “Oh no,” she said, then dug her cell phone out of her bag. She didn't know whom she was going to call, but there had to be someone. But where would she tell them to take her? She had no idea where the event was. She snapped her fingers. Mr. Day had given her her itinerary, and it had Eden's information on it. “Yes,” she said, turning around to go back into the house, but the door was locked. Charly grabbed her head in frustration, then remembered the other entrance. She exhaled, praying she could get in, then moved quickly toward the side door. Before she made it, she heard a vehicle zooming nearby with a 2 Chainz song blasting.

“Whip!” Charly said, feeling her anxiousness melt. She turned in the direction of the music, and walked as quickly as she could, yelling Whip's name at the top of her lungs, hoping he would be able to hear her.

She'd crossed the yard to the side of the guest cottage that she hadn't gone to before, and skirted a fleet of cars parked in front of a seven-car garage. She saw Whip polishing the SUV.

Whip looked up. “What's up, Charly?” he asked, bobbing his head to the track.

Charly was out of breath. “I need you. Bobsy was supposed to ask you to wake me, and I overslept . . . yesterday,” she said, feeling stupid. “Anyway, I have to get to the event this morning. I can't miss that too. Can you take me? Do you know where it is?” she asked, half-scared for her life. The last time she had been in the car with Whip, he hadn't been the safest driver.

Whip shook his head in the negative. “Bobsy couldn't have asked me anything. Not this morning. I was dropping off Lex and the crew, and Lex told everybody to let you sleep so you could get over your cold. He's big on health. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I can't take you. I gotta take care of the ride. That's what Lex told me.”

Charly exhaled. “Please, Whip. I think the event is more important to Lex than how much his ride gleams.”

Whip wouldn't budge. “Nah . . . plus, I don't feel like anyone telling me how to drive.” He rubbed the side of his face, then went back to wiping down the SUV.

“Look, Whip, I don't care how you drive. Just get me there. Quickly.”

Charly gripped the overhead handle next to her seat, holding on for her life. The black SUV flew down the street, bouncing up and down as they encountered pothole after pothole. Looking out her window, she watched for another street sign. Already, she'd memorized three of them. She hoped that she wouldn't need to backtrack on foot to Lex's guest cottage, but she couldn't be sure, so she'd opted for the safety of knowing where she was. Whip, who'd admitted to being another one of Lex's family members, drove at top speed, taking corners, running red lights, and skidding to incomplete stops. Reckless couldn't begin to define his behind-the-wheel skills, and on more than one occasion, Charly was sure they were going to crash.

“Whew!” Whip exclaimed, pressing the brakes a little. “And another dodgeball point for us,” he said, after slowing just in time to avoid the attention of a cop who, just like the other three police cars before, didn't catch him speeding. “Yes!” he exclaimed, then punched the accelerator until the wind whistled through the open windows.

“Slow down!” Charly demanded for the umpteenth time, tightening the grip on the handle to steady herself.

Whip glared at her in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes. “Didn't I tell you I got this? You were the one running late, and I need to get you there ASAP. It's high traffic time, and this is the only way to avoid it. I need my ends, Charly, so I gotta get back and finish cleaning the rides. Lex doesn't pay for lateness. Period. Point. Blank,” he said. “ 'Sides, these are my streets. I know the roads and the off roads. And better than five-oh, as you can tell. So you're safe with me.”

Charly's eyes widened before she could respond. Through the front window, she could see the road getting ready to end, and Whip wasn't slowing down. “There's dirt up there!” she yelled.

“Yepper. Off roads, I just told you.” Whip laughed, pushing forward. “I told you I got this. But hold on. It's going to get bumpy. Shortcut!” he yelled back, still accelerating.

Charly held her breath, watching him whip the SUV as if they were on smooth highway while cranking up the music. M
kel's voice filled the air again, and she shook her head. The sports utility vehicle bounced as they moved off the paved street and onto the rough terrain. She looked around, certain there were no streets signs in the middle of the desert. Still, though, in case she had to walk, she wanted to know how to get back. That was, if she survived the accident she was sure was about to happen.
Two trees to the far right will be on the left if I am going the other way. Water tower way up ahead. Skyscraper.
She took a mental note of the landmarks. “Whip!” she yelled when she felt the vehicle lift from the ground.

“Whew-hoo. Yayer. Didn't I tell you I am that fiyah?” he said, whipping the SUV left, and moving off the dirt and back onto a real street. “The trick is not to stop. If you stop in the desert, you may stay in the desert. Get me. That's why they call me Whip, cause I know the tricks on how to whip the whips!”

Charly exhaled and closed her eyes. She was scared stiff, but had survived the worst, so she couldn't complain. The SUV finally moved forward at a legal pace, then turned the corner. “I see.”

“Dang!” Whip yelled, banging on the steering wheel.

Sirens sounded and colorful lights flashed. Police cars zoomed in from all directions, surrounding them. “Whip, park the truck, throw the keys out the window, and get out with your hands up,” a voice said over a police cruiser intercom.

Charly's brows rose as she tilted her head. “Whip, did they just say your name? Please tell me that the police don't know you by name,” she said, pulling out her cell phone. With three touches of the screen, she had Liam on the line.

“Liam. Are you in or near the studio? No? Man!” She stomped her foot. She'd wanted Liam to contact the Las Vegas authorities from a studio phone and tell them who she was and why she was there, in the hopes that it would validate her story. “Don't panic, but I've been stopped by the cops again, and whatever you do, please keep this from Mr. Day,” she pleaded, then listened intently as Liam instructed her to pull up the N
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and now included her name. “Thanks Liam. Let's hope it works!” She ended the call.

Whip exhaled, and parked the SUV. He took the key out of the ignition, rolled down the driver's-side window, then tossed the key ring across the street. “Dang!” he said again, slowly opening the door. “Yes, they know me by name. I got my nickname because I used to be a teenage getaway driver—but that was a long time ago, Charly.”

“All occupants exit the vehicle,” the police said over the intercom. “Now!”

Charly froze, looking at Whip for direction. “Well?”

“Do what they say or we're both going to jail,” Whip said, then hopped out of the SUV, and walked to the middle of the street with his hands raised.

 

Charly sat on the curb with her ankles crossed. Her elbow was resting on her knee and her chin was in her palm. She looked out into the distance, irritated and guilty. She was peeved because the cop standing over her was clearly short on brain cells, and had been asking her the same questions over and over for what seemed like an hour or more. She was filled with guilt because she'd just about twisted Whip's arm to take her to the event, and kept pushing until he'd given in. Now he was in trouble because she had been running late.

“So you're trying to tell me that you didn't know Whip is a convicted getaway driver?” the female officer, who looked like a box wearing a uniform, asked again. “He has a conditional license. He can only drive when he's working.”

Charly looked up at her, and batted her eyes slowly. “I told you, he was working. He was taking me to work.”

The policewoman shook her head. “Who was working? You or him? First you said he was working, then you said you were working. And the only people he's allowed to drive for are the people he works for—that's the only vehicle he's allowed to drive under court order.” The woman looked her up and down. “And you're too puny to be a boxer or a trainer. What are you, fifteen?”

Charly shook her head. They kept going over the same thing, and again and again the woman couldn't put two forms of work together. “Miss, like I told you a thousand times, if you'd go look at my phone, which I gave to the other officer before you got here, it'll prove who I am. And my identification is in my purse in the truck. I already told him, and he had no problem with my statement. Why do you?”

The officer crossed her arms. “Well, that's him, and this is me.” She pointed to her chest. “And now that I'm here, you're under my authority. A male cop should always call a female cop to the scene if there's a female minor involved. He can't frisk you the way I can.”

Charly jumped up from the curb. “Who are you going to frisk? You can't frisk me. I'm a minor, and I'm not under arrest. What law did I break? Riding in a car that the court has given him permission to drive?” Charly turned and surveyed the small crowd that had begun to gather. “Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! I'm being threatened by this cop. Call the news. I'm Charly from
The Extreme Dream Team
. Somebody help and make sure you tape this! I'll give a reward. Please!” she screamed as if she were in pain.