“Obviously,” Bella says, letting her eyes sweep over the whole of my person. Then she turns and stalks away, to rejoin the boyfriend who doesn’t seem to have noticed she was missing.

Patricia laughs, totally unconcerned by that little encounter.

“God, I thought she’d be living somewhere else by now,” she says. “Torturing some other innocent citizens.”

“Innocent is a stretch . . .” I say.

A few of the cars are already lining up—the tight, efficient Japanese models, and the roaring American muscle. I see a white Supra with a long scratch down the side waiting alongside a purple Impreza.

Patricia looks keenly interested in this particular race. She’s watching closely, biting the edge of her thumbnail.

The cars take off, screeching off the line. The Impreza jolts ahead first, quicker off the line, but the Supra starts to catch up along the straight stretch. There’s a curve before the finish line—the Supra is forced to the outside, but pulls ahead again when the cars straighten out. They whip across the finish line, the Supra ahead by an inch.

It’s only a quarter-mile. It lasted a total of fourteen seconds.

Still, I failed to breathe the entire time. My heart is in my throat, and I’m hit with a vivid bolt of joy.

Patricia seems equally thrilled—she lets out a whoop of happiness, like she was cheering for the Supra the whole time.

“Who was that?” I ask her.

She blushes, looking mildly embarrassed. “This guy, Mason,” she says. “We’re sort of dating.”

The two cars pull back around. Patricia hurries over to meet them, running across the beams of their headlights. I follow after her, curious to see this Mason guy.

He climbs out of the Supra: tall, skinny, with lightning bolts shaved into the side of his hair, wearing a pair of ripped-up skinny jeans.

He’s laughing at the driver of the Impreza.

“I told you, you don’t have the top-end speed—”

Mason breaks off when he sees Patricia.

“Patricia! Baby! Why don’t you pick up your phone?” he cries. “I called you eight hundred times. Listen, I’m telling you, baby, I never cheated on you . . .”

“I know that,” Patricia says calmly.

“You know . . .” He stares at her. “If you know that . . . then why . . . in the fuck . . . did you key my CAR!?” he shouts.

“BECAUSE YOU LEFT MY GRANDMOTHER AT THE AIRPORT!” Patricia bellows back at him. “You said you were going to pick her up while I was at work! She waited THREE HOURS, MASON! That woman is eighty-seven years old! She saw the Hindenburg explode. Actually, she heard it—BECAUSE THERE WAS NO FUCKING TV!”

Mason is standing there frozen, with a guilty grimace on his face. He definitely forgot all about Patricia’s grandma until right this very moment.

“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands. “I might have fallen asleep—”

“ASLEEP?”

“But you didn’t have to key my car, baby! It’s a classic!”

“Nana’s a classic, Mason! NANA!”

This is so much better than a drag race. A large circle of people has formed around us, and I swear to god, somebody is taking bets on whether Patricia is going to smack Mason or go for his car again.

“She had to eat airport Wendy’s, Mason! That is so much worse than normal Wendy’s!”

At that moment, I see Levi Cargill standing over on the opposite side of the circle. He’s wearing a hot pink tracksuit and a diamond the size of my pinky nail in his right ear. I cannot comprehend why Officer Schultz needs my help tracking Levi, when you can probably see him from outer space.

I sidle over toward him, wanting to speak to him alone.

He’s talking to a couple of thuggish-looking guys. When I make eye contact, he peels off from the pack and ambles over.

“You wanna buy something?” he asks me.

“No,” I say.

He lets his eyes roam down my body, grinning suggestively. “You want something for free, then? It’s big, and thick, and I can—”

“Actually, it’s about my brother.”

“Who?”

“Victor.”

“Oh.” He stops smiling. “You dragged him out of my party last night.”

“Right. He’s not coming to those anymore. And he’s not selling for you anymore, either.”

Levi’s lips thin out into a long, straight line. He sucks in air through his nostrils.

“That’s not up to you,” he says. “It’s between me and Vic.”

“Victor is seventeen,” I say, quietly. “He’s a minor, and he’s not selling drugs for you.”

Levi grabs my upper arm between fingers that feel like steel pincers. He drags me away from the circle of headlights, behind a cement pillar.

“Here’s the problem,” he hisses. “Your brother owes me for a hundred and fifty tabs. And he also owes me a new dealer, if he’s planning to quit.”

“It was a hundred and ten,” I say.

“He’s paying me for one fifty or that’s how many strokes I’m gonna practice with my nine-iron on the back of his skull,” Levi spits into my face, digging his fingers into my arm.

“What does that cost?” I mutter, trying not to show how much it hurts.

“Ten bucks a tab,” Levi says.

There’s no way they cost him that much. But he’s obviously determined to extort me.

“Fine,” I growl. “I’ll get you the money.”

“Yeah? What about the dealer?”

I hesitate. I don’t want to cave into this guy. I don’t want to see him at all, after today.

But there’s somebody who’s not going to let me go home and hide my head under the pillow. Officer Schultz expects me to get information. He’s going to expect a lot more than the news that Vic “quit.”

“I’ll do it,” I say.

“You?” Levi sneers.

I yank my arm out of his grip. “Yeah,” I say. “I know a hell of a lot more people than Victor does. People come in and out of my shop all day long. I can probably double Vic’s sales.”

“I thought you were a good girl,” Levi says, suspiciously. “I heard you don’t even suck dick with the lights on.”

“Lights on or off doesn’t matter to me,” I say to Levi. “Either way, I wouldn’t touch yours for any fucking price.”

Levi snorts. “You’re not my type either, you Justin Bieber-dressin’ bitch.”

I want to tell Levi he looks like a cool mom, but I keep it to myself. The only way I’m going to get dirt on this guy is by working for him. And if that’s what I have to do to get Schultz off my back, well . . . I don’t have any other choice.

“That’s the best I can do,” I tell him. “ ‘My brother’s going to college. He’s not sticking around here like the rest of us.”

Levi scoffs.

“I went to college. There’s more drugs on campus than the whole rest of the city.”

“Yeah, well, there’s also diplomas.”

Levi looks me over one last time.

“Fine,” he says. “Come by the house tomorrow.”