The Fine Line (28 page)

Derrick was here to prove himself.  But was failing miserably. 

Tommy, a frequent racer, approached Derrick from behind. “Dude, you’re a liability.  Get your shit together, then maybe we’ll talk.  But it ain’t happening tonight, man.  Go home.” 

Tommy placed his hand on Derrick’s shoulder, and before anyone knew what was happening, Derrick flung himself around, pulling a handgun out from somewhere and pointed it at him.  “Get your hands off me, Tommy!”  

Our circle backed up, spreading out, with a few of us putting our hands in the air while others shouted a mixture of “Whoa!” “Hey now!” and “Shit!”

Gavin slowly stepped toward Derrick with his hands up. “Look, man, we’re all friends here.  There’s no need for that.  Put that shit away.” 

With the gun shaking nervously in his hand, Derrick pointed it from person to person.  “I came here to race!”  His voice cracked and his face became tainted in a combination of anger and fear.  He pointed the gun frantically at every one of us.  “I just came here to race!”  

Suddenly determined, he turned to me, pointing the gun directly at my face.  My eyes widened, and my breathing stopped completely. 

“What would happen if you didn’t have your precious flag-girl, little man?” Derrick mocked.  “Your good-luck-charm.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Logan fumed.  “I promise you that.” 

Derrick’s eyes narrowed.  He turned to face Logan while his gun clicked with the cock of the hammer.

I gasped.  “NO!” 

“I’ve been racing since long before you came around,” Derrick said to Logan.  “You don’t make the fucking rules.  I make the rules.” 

“STOP!!!” I shouted.  I instinctively lunged forward but was held back by a strong arm wrapped around my torso from behind.  I struggled to get it off me.  I saw Gavin dive into Derrick from the side.  The arm around my front jerked me backwards, causing me to fall back onto the ground.  At the same time, an ear piercing popping sound vibrated in my ears.  The man holding me cushioned my fall.  “NO!” I cried as my cheeks lined with tears.  “NO!!!”

I heard metal scraping the sidewalk, and I knew it was the gun sliding across it.  I escaped the grasp that was holding me and sat up to see Logan on top of Derrick, bashing his fist into Derrick’s face over and over and over again while Gavin and Tommy tried unsuccessfully to pull him off.  The left side of Logan’s face and neck were covered in blood.

Derrick laid motionless on the ground while Logan continued to pound him.

“LOGAN, STOP!” I cried as I brought myself to a standing position. 

With his fist raised, ready for another blow, Logan paused and immediately lifted his head to meet my gaze.  His murderous expression instantly transformed into panic.  He looked down at the face he had just mangled, then brought his bloody hands in front of him, focusing on them as if the sight of them had brought the reality of the act he had just been performing to life.  He looked at me again, then removed himself from Derrick, and hurried toward me.  His hands grasped my shoulders, pulling me into a tight embrace. 

“Oh my God, Liv, are you okay?”  He gently pushed me off him and began examining my face and body for any sign of injury.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.” 

My eyes focused on the side of his head where blood was pouring out of his earlobe.  “Shit!  You’re bleeding!” 

Logan turned his head, focusing his attention on something else.  That’s when I heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance. 

“Someone called in the shot!” Gavin shouted.  “We gotta get outta here!”  

Logan tugged on my arm, “C’mon, we gotta go.” 

“Wait!” I yanked my arm out of his grasp.  “What about Derrick?  Is he okay?”

I ran to where Derrick laid on the ground and gasped at the sight of his face, swollen and covered in blood.  He moaned and turned himself to the side, spitting out teeth and blood.  My hand covered my mouth as I stared at him, shocked and appalled.

Thank God.  He’s alive.

Tires screeched as our group drove off in their cars, making a run for it.  The sirens grew louder, and I could see flashing red and blue lights reflect off the commercial warehouses in the distance.  Logan gently took my shoulders and looked into my eyes, calming me with just one look the way only he could.  “He’ll be fine,” he said, struggling to make his voice sound calm.  “We can’t say here.  We have to go.  Now.” 

I nodded.  “Okay.” 

He took my hand and we dashed to his car.  The moment our doors slammed shut, Logan started the engine and floored it. 

“Put your seatbelt on!” Logan shouted once we were on the road. 

I did as he said and not a second later, he pushed the little blue button on the steering wheel.  My head whipped back, slamming into the headrest as we thrusted forward at unthinkable speeds.  The engine screamed.  My panic increased when a dead end closed in on us, but Logan spun the wheel just in time, stomping on the brakes while recklessly whirling to the right, onto another road.  The car fishtailed wildly, and I grabbed at anything that would keep me steady.  My hands settled on the dashboard and passenger door.  Logan pressed on the gas and expertly steadied the vehicle back into his control.

I looked back, out the rear window, but all I saw was white smoke.  No flashing lights.  No sirens could be heard over the roar of the engine.  No sign of police. 

The car slowed just before we arrived at a busy city street.  I breathed a sigh of relief as we blended with the moving traffic.  We were safe.  Still in a state of shock, my focus directed to the car beside me.  A woman in her late twenties sat behind the wheel with a smile on her face as she looked into her rear-view mirror.  Two young children in the backseat, a boy and a girl, both in booster seats, appeared to be singing a song. 

I wondered about the woman.  Had someone like her, who looked so well put together and
normal
, ever experienced anything like what I just had?  Had her loved ones ever left her, either by choice, or death, or fate?  Or did she come from a traditional suburban home with two loving parents?  Did things like this ever happen to people like her?

As the car slowed to a stop in front of a red light, my attention turned to the hands that tightly gripped the steering wheel.  The blood on them had already begun to dry, turning a crusty blackened red.  My eyes traveled up to Logan’s blood-stained face which was turned in my direction. His chest heaved up and down with each hard, fast breath.  His worried eyes searched mine. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

There were no words to be said.  Because in that moment, as Logan’s eyes flooded with love and concern, I realized that “normal” was a concept that was open for interpretation.  What happened tonight was a mistake.  An anomaly.  A break from our norm.  And despite the circumstances, I was
still
exactly where I wanted to be.  I gave Logan a reassuring smile and nodded.

“Are you hurt?” he continued.

“No, I’m fine,” I replied. 
Just completely freaked out.

We arrived at his shop a few minutes later.   At this late hour, it was closed.  All the mechanics had left hours earlier, and we were thankful for that.  The last thing we needed were questions.  Once in the apartment, Logan threw his coat on the couch then went directly to the bathroom to wash his hands.  I followed him in. 

Looking down at his hands, he scrubbed vigorously, turning the lather a bright red.  When he held them under the running water, the blood splashed against the white porcelain of the sink just before washing away, down the drain.  His hands were clean now.  Except for the few crimson scrapes and cuts that lined his knuckles.

My eyes focused on his ear at the same time that he finally took a look at himself in the mirror.  Blood continued to trickle from the lobe.  He turned his face to the side to get a better look. 

“Ah, shit,” he said under his breath.

“Do you have gauze?” I asked. 

“Yeah, it’s in there,” he replied as he pointed to the linen closet behind us. 

I took the package out and placed it on the sink.  “Let me see,” I said as I brought my hand to his cheek.  A closer look revealed that the very tip of his earlobe was gone.  “Oh my God, Logan, you need stitches!”  I quickly ripped open the gauze packaging and pressed a piece of it on his ear, causing him to flinch and swipe the white cloth from me.

He examined the injury in the mirror.  “Nah.  It’s fine.” 

“That’s from the bullet, isn’t it?  He shot you.  He could’ve shot you in the head!”

He didn’t say anything.  He just watched me, hesitantly, holding the gauze to his ear.

“He had a gun pointed at you, Logan.  You could be dead right now.”  I dove into him, wrapping my arms around his waist.  “Why did he do that?  What’s wrong with him?”

“I have no idea.  He’s a fucking psychopath.”  He sighed, “God, I’m so sorry.  I damn near lost it when he pointed the gun at you.  I was glad when he turned to me.  If anything happened to you, Liv, I’d lose my mind.  I came pretty damn close to losing it tonight.” 

“Well, I can’t lose you either!  And I’m tired of being scared that I might.” 

He pushed himself off me and took my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes.  “I know.  Which is why I’m done.  After tonight—after seeing the look in your face—I’m not going to put either of us at risk anymore.  I’m done racing.  There are too many variables that come with it.”

“But you love racing.”

“No.  I love you.  Nothing else even comes close.”

We stared at each other momentarily.  Deep down, I knew he was only acting on impulse.  There was no way he could quit something that was in his blood.  He’d change his mind.  I would have to prepare myself for that.  “I don’t think you should decide that right now,” I said, stepping toward the door.  “You should get cleaned up.  Take a long, hot shower.  Sleep on it.”  I walked out of the bathroom. 

“Liv,” he said.  I stopped and faced him.  “Are you leaving?”

My heart sunk from the torment in his voice.  He thought I was running again.  I shook my head no.  “Of course not.  I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

He nodded.  “Okay.” 

I collapsed on the couch a moment later, letting my head fall on the armrest.  My attention diverted to the sound of water running through the pipes in the wall from the shower turning on.  I closed my eyes only to see visions of Derrick being beaten to a bloody pulp. 

Startled by the image, I tried to think of something else.  I had no interest in watching TV or listening to music.  I took the
Hot Rod
magazine off the coffee table and sifted through it.  Before I knew it, I had paged through the entire thing without recalling anything from the pages. 

I couldn’t sit still, so I went to the kitchen.  After searching the refrigerator and cupboards for something to eat, then realizing that I had no interest in eating either, I found myself eventually walking back to the bathroom. 

I knocked gently on the door then cracked it open.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Logan replied from the other side of the shower curtain.

I leaned back on the countertop and crossed my arms.  “Are they going to come after you?”

“Who?”

“The police.  What if Derrick presses charges?”

He paused.  “He won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because he’d be an idiot to do that.” 

“You said he’s a psychopath.  Psychopaths are unpredictable.” 

The water turned off.  I took the towel that hung on the rack above the toilet and handed it to Logan just as he opened the shower curtain.  He dried his face and hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist.  His eyes looked me up and down.  “You’re still wearing your coat.”

My eyes narrowed.  “Why are you worried about my coat?”  My eyes gravitated to the crimson that still trickled out of his ear.  I sighed as I took my coat off and hung it on the door handle.  “C’mere.  You’re still bleeding.” 

I took another gauze package and ripped it open.  I felt his concerned eyes on me as I gently placed the dressing on his ear. 

His hand brushed the side of my face.  His fingers combed my hair behind my ear.  “Liv, look at me.”

Slightly irritated, I did as he said and met his magnetic eyes. 

“I promise you everything will be okay,” he continued.  “Nothing bad is going to happen.” 

It was what I needed to hear.  The compassionate way he said it instantly calmed me down.  I believed in him.  Trusted him.  I pressed my lips together in a tight smile.  “Okay.”

“I’m done, Liv.  I don’t need to sleep on it.  I don’t need to think about anything.  And I don’t need to race.  But I do need you.”  He lifted me and sat me down on the countertop.  “And I need you to understand that you are what makes me feel alive.  Not cars.  Not betting.  Not racing.”

“I just don’t want you to give up anything for me.”

He looked at me like I was a lunatic.  “I’d give up everything for you.” 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Life returned to normal considerably quicker than I had expected.  Logan wanted me to stay that night, but I had a curfew to abide by, even though I had been eighteen for over a month.  When I woke up alone in my bed the following morning, I almost believed I had dreamed-up the entire incident with Derrick.  I even questioned whether or not it had really happened. 

The only reminders of that night were Logan’s injuries on his ear and knuckles, and the fact that he had been turning down races for the last two weeks.  The injuries had healed substantially, but I still had a sinking feeling that he would resent me for the choice he made to stop racing. 

Just as Logan promised, we hadn’t heard a word from Derrick, and I was beginning to feel that we never would. 

I sat at my kitchen table, viewing my various social media sites on my phone while my mother fixed breakfast and Jeff read the Sunday paper.  Today would be a day of work.  First cleaning the bar, then Frank’s. 

My phone chimed.  It was a text from Logan.

Wanna grab breakfast before cleaning the pub?  I have something to tell you.