Read Online The Lovely Reckless by Kami García - Free Book Online Page B

with white stripes running down the middle. A guy wearing a hooded leather jacket bends down and grabs a huge beer can. I catch a glimpse of another leather jacket—the worn black one that belonged to Abel’s dad.
    â€œI see him.” I’m not about to point at anybody here.
    â€œWhere?” Lex pushes up on her toes as people weave in front of us and block her view.
    â€œTo my left, by the car. He’s standing between the guy who just grabbed a beer and the one with the writing tattooed on his neck.” I nudge her with my elbow when she stares too long. “Be subtle. They don’t look friendly.”
    Lex stops walking, and a girl behind us bumps into me.
    â€œExcuse you!” she snaps.
    â€œSorry.” I grab Lex’s arm and pull her away from the crowd. “Are you trying to get our asses kicked?”
    Lex stares back at me, chin trembling. “What if your dad wasn’t working tonight and you couldn’t get out of the house? I’d be here alone right now.”
    â€œBullshit. I never would’ve let you come by yourself.”
    â€œBut Abel did .” Her eyes well. “He should’ve told me to bring someone. He wasn’t even worried about me.”
    I take her by the shoulders. “You don’t know that for sure.”
    â€œYes, I do.” She swallows hard. “Because I’m here .”
    â€œHe knew you’d bring me,” I try to reassure her.
    The sound of roaring engines fills the silence, and people yell and whistle near the starting line. The race must be over.
    â€œLet’s pay these guys and get Abel. Then we’ll figure out what’s going on with him. Okay?”
    Lex nods and wipes her face, even though she didn’t let a single tear fall. In elementary school, she cried all the time. Her parents traveled constantly, leaving Lex at home with a rotating team of nannies. I got used to her tears, and then one day they stopped. Crying doesn’t make you feel better , Lex told me. It’s just a different kind of miserable .
    I never understood what she meant until after Noah died. I sobbed for weeks, but it didn’t dull the pain. I carry it with me. I’m not strong enough to watch anyone else I care about get hurt.
    Abel hasn’t moved from his spot between the two guys, who are still hammering down beers. Not good. Assholes and alcohol don’t mix. Abel crosses and uncrosses his arms, the way he does whenever he’s nervous.
    This situation could go bad really fast. People engaging in illegal activities aren’t generally fans of new faces, and I’ve suffered through enough of Dad’s what-if scenarios to recognize a potentially dangerous situation.
    The guy with the black letters tattooed around his neck falls into that category. He leans casually against the driver’s-side door of the car. The curved fenders remind me of the Batmobile, but the guy with the neck ink looks more like a prison inmate than a superhero.
    Abel notices us walking toward them and says something to him. The guy tips his chin at us. Even in this light, I notice how flushed his face is from drinking.
    Shit.
    He punches Abel in the arm. “Check it out, Rock Star. Your groupies came to bail out your sorry ass.” His friend laughs as he looks Lex and me up and down.
    â€œRace is starting, Turk.” A third loser climbs out of the passenger seat. He’s taller than his friends, and he smiles at me with a mouthful of crooked teeth.
    â€œWe brought the money,” I shout over the engines and the music.
    â€œAfter the race. I’ve got two fifty riding on this one.” Turk waves us off and angles his body toward the street, offering me a clearer view of the writing wrapped around his throat like a dog collar. It’s hard to read, but I make out two of the words: PLAY HARD .
    Abel clears his throat in an obvious move to get our attention. He gives Lex and me a pleading look and