Speed of Life by J.M. Kelly Read Free Book Online

off.
    â€œSIT DOWN!” I yell at him, and as we turn the corner, he loses his balance and falls over. I go about three blocks at top speed, and then I find a place by the park to pull over. I kill the engine. My hands are shaking so hard, I can only keep them steady by holding on to the steering wheel.
    Amber reaches over the seat, trying to get Bonehead to sit. “Leave him,” I say. “He’s fine.” After a few minutes he settles down.
    We can’t do anything for Natalie, though. She’s tired and crabby and probably wet and hungry, too. Amber keeps apologizing for letting the dog out of the car.
    â€œI thought he was gonna break the window,” she says, “so I opened the door, and I was holding on to him but—”
    â€œForget it,” I say. “It’s fine. It’s over.”
    I don’t start driving again until my heart rate goes back to normal and my hands have stopped shaking. It’s almost two in the morning, and all I want to do is get home to bed. We’re halfway there when we get pulled over by the cops.
    â€œDon’t say a single word, Am,” I tell her. “Act like you’re sleeping.” The last thing we need is another “minor in possession by consumption.” She’s already had two. They’ll make her go into rehab if she gets another one.
    Amber leans her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes while I roll down the window and wait for the cop to amble up to me. “Hello, ladies,” he says. “We meet again.”
    I sigh. Our favorite officer of the law.
    I think he’s pulled me over about six times. He’s never given me a ticket, but he’s made me do the sobriety test every time. I don’t know why. I’d never chance the Mustang by drinking. Or, you know . . . risk Natalie’s life.
    â€œLicense and insurance?”
    I hand both over, and he goes to his car to run them. A few minutes later he’s back. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
    â€œNo, sir.” Gil taught me to add the “sir” when talking to the police. There’s a little quaver in my voice tonight—​probably leftover adrenaline from fighting with those assholes at the party—​but I think it works in my favor.
Please, please, please don’t give me a ticket.
If he does, our insurance is going to go way the hell up.
    â€œYou’ve got a broken taillight,” he says.
    â€œI do?” Those goddamned guys.
    â€œYou didn’t know?”
    I shake my head. For half a second I consider turning them in, telling the cop where to find them, but I’m no narc. Besides, everyone at the party would get busted, and I definitely don’t want to be the one responsible for that. “Someone must’ve hit me in a parking lot.”
    â€œWhere’re you headed?”
    â€œHome.”
    He nods at Amber. “She been drinking again?”
    â€œShe’s tired,” I say.
    He knows I’m evading the question, but I guess he’s having a good night—​he doesn’t push me on it. “You been drinking?”
    â€œNope. Want me to blow into the thingie?”
    â€œIf you wouldn’t mind.”
    I start to get out, and Bonehead tries to follow me. “Sit.” I palm his face, pushing him back. I get out of the car and we go through the whole routine.
    â€œOkay,” the cop says when the device proves I’m sober. “Fix that taillight tomorrow.”
    â€œI will.” He knows I work on it myself.
    Before he walks away, he says, “Man, I love this car.”
    It’s probably the only reason he doesn’t give me a ticket: Mustang admiration. I watch him in my rearview mirror as he gets into his cruiser and waits for me to drive off. I make sure to signal before pulling out.
    â€œShit. I can’t believe they broke my taillight.”
    â€œCan’t you fix it?” Amber asks,