The Crew

Untitled Part 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Citation sputtered along and made its way almost to the end of the path when Sophia appeared in a sudden burst through the brush and trees. She jumped in; I pumped the pedal out of there in record speed, well record speed for the White Beast, bouncing along the dirt trail and out onto the main road taking us to the freeway. Adrenaline surged. What were we doing?

"You get your stuff?" I asked.

"Yeah. I pretty much ran down those stairs, snagged my bag, and sprinted back. Got my exercise." She dropped her bag at the foot of the passenger seat. "I watched from the top as he continued to berate you. That guy's such a prick. I can't believe you told him off!"

"Someone had to do it," I said as we flew onto 101 South.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I think I understand what Sarah sees in you."

What are you doing, Jack? Sarah. Sarah. Sarah.

She hesitated. "Listen, Jack. I lied before. Laura said Cannon told her to stay away from the group, that you were going to show later and he had some 'business' to attend to."

It all added up: Cannon didn't want the girls—especially Sarah—to witness my sandbagging.

"Why didn't you mention anything earlier?"

She shrugged. "I figured it was between you guys. I didn't want to start trouble."

You mean like the trouble we were getting in now?

She seemed relaxed, especially considering the event from which we'd emerged. We didn't speak for several minutes, lost in our own thoughts. It was the Bear and D.D. thing to do. As we approached Oxnard, I had the urge to glance over and see what this woman beside me in Johnny's old beat-up Citation was doing, to make sure she was real.

What in the hell was going on here? I was driving a car that wasn't mine with a woman who wasn't mine, and all the while I'm gathering the feeling that we're going somewhere sacred, somewhere forbidden. Sarah's image, her words, poured through my mind, but I tried my best to stifle them. I saw her room, the Beyonce and Barbie posters. I smelled her familiar perfume. I felt her fingernail scratching my chin. I heard her saying, "You and me, babe." I rehashed our conversation about running away, the profound decision we'd made.

Turn around, Jack. Or drop her off in Oxnard. Get rid of her. Do the right thing. For Sarah. For you. For us. Us.

Sophia had been looking out the window, but feeling my glance turned. She had a serious expression, like she'd had when we'd first been caught by Mr. W. But seeing me, she instantly broke into a full-fledged smile.

"C'mon, Jack, get off on Surfrider Way, I wanna go down there and see the ocean, there's probably no one around."

You can still do this, Jack. Drop her off. Just tell her. Now.

Do. The. Right. Thing.

Without argument I took a right onto Surfrider and we slowed down, passing upscale beach tract homes, block after block, all the same color and architecture, bland middleclass mediocrity. I continued on another 75 yards and parked the White Beast.

"C'mon Jack, let's go down on the beach, we never really got to enjoy ourselves earlier. We might as well now, right? We're suspended. Might as well take advantage. Tonight we'll face the music."