Ruin My Rep

Happy Birthday

CHAPTER 1

ROWAN

I didn’t expect that much out of today, I realize that the world doesn’t stop on account of me and my parents are busy people. However I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting…well, something. A card, a text, at least some semblance of a “happy birthday” from my father. Perhaps a pair of earrings from my stepmother, Olivie, she spends all day at the jewelry store anyways. But alas, there's been nothing from either of them. Radio silence.

I bury the disappointment as I close my eyes and blow out the candle sticking out of the pint of chocolate marshmallow swirl ice cream. At least Ellise remembered. I try not to let the fact that our personal chef remembers my birthday when my own father doesn’t but it’s a hard pill to swallow. “What did you wish for this year?” she asks, taking out a spoon for each of us.

“The same thing as last year,” I say, spooning the new flavor onto my tongue. A new flavor every year, a tradition my mother started and one my father was content to let die with her. Thank god for Ellise, who knows what this place would be like without her.

“Which was?” she asks with a mouth full of the cold treat.

“I can’t tell you until it comes true.”

“Oh come on, Row. You’re nineteen now, don’t tell me you still believe in those superstitions. Not telling me might be the very reason it hasn’t come true yet if you really think about it.” She quirks a brow at me and I roll my eyes. She tries this every year, a tradition of her own I guess. It never works though, mostly because I don’t make wishes anymore. I have nothing to tell her, and there's nothing to come true. It isn’t that I don’t have things I want but it’d be way too tragic and pathetic of me to wish that my father started acting like he loved me or at least liked me again. It’s not that he doesn’t love me, I know he does, it’s just been different between us since my mom passed. I don’t blame him for it, it would probably be worse if he didn’t change at all.

“Fine. I wished that I’d meet Damson Idris and that I’d get him to fall in love with me,” I lie.

“Wait, the guy from that tv show you like?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, well I don’t think telling me is going to make that wish come true but good luck.” We continue digging into the ice cream and I notice her looking at me like she’s trying to figure something out. “Is that really what you wished for?”

“Who knows? I’ll never tell.”

***

When we reach the bottom of the carton of ice cream and I finally make my way back up to my bedroom I stop short at the foot of my bed, my eyes rounding out at the sight before me. There, laid out atop the covers, is a dress. Not just any dress but a sleek black one. It’s paired with some strappy heels, their red soles telling of the hefty price tag and a necklace with a diamond pendant large enough to blind someone. It’s all brand new and I realize with a pang of guilt that they’re gifts. Gifts that only two people could have gotten for me. I guess they didn’t forget afterall.

I get dressed, slipping into the outfit like it was made for me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, the fabric hugging my body like a glove. I feel beautiful, confident, and a tad silly for doubting my family as I twist and turn in the mirror.

I’m adjusting the necklace to sit just right when my phone buzzes with a text from my father.

Dad: A car will be there shortly to pick you up.

Not quite a “happy birthday,” no smiley faces or hearts, just instructions… but still it’s something. Tonight could be different, perhaps my wish that I’ve never had the audacity to actually wish is coming true anyways.

As I’m waiting, I catch a glimpse of my mother’s photo on my dresser. Longing swells up inside me and my eyes water, wishing she could be here, that she could see me like this, that we could be close again. Blinking a couple times I push the thought away. Friday’s coming and we’re never closer than when I’m on the Southside behind that wheel.

As promised the car arrives in no time at all and the driver, James, opens the door for me with his usual warm smile. “Happy Birthday, Miss Rowan.”

“Thanks Jay,” I say, sliding into the back seat. “So, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he says grinning. “But I won’t be the one to spoil any surprises.”

I try to get a little more out of him but he doesn’t budge, leaving me to wonder what they have planned. Maybe dinner. I lean back, watching the city lights blur past through the tinted windows, feeling a bubble of excitement rise in my chest.

We pull up to an upscale restaurant, the kind only Northsiders can afford. As I step out my father and Olivie are already waiting for me at the entrance. James gives me his hand as I step out and Olivie offers me a bright smile while my father looks rather impatient as per usual. I think his face is just perpetually glued like that at this point. There's no changing that look when it comes to him. You just have to learn to love it. I’m still learning but I’ll get there eventually.

“You look stunning, Rowan,” my stepmom says, her eyes sweeping over the dress that was obviously picked out by her. “Wren doesn’t she look–”

Before she can finish, my father cuts in. “Rowan, I need you to be on your best behavior tonight.”

I blink, confused and a little taken aback. “Of course… but why?”

“Just do as I say,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument or commentary of any kind.

I swallow my confusion and nod, following them both into the restaurant. My earlier excitement is quickly dwindling, most of it turning into something more like dread, but I push it all to the side. I’ve just misunderstood him. Perhaps it’s just his way of telling me to have a good time? That he wants tonight to be special? An odd way to go about it but my dad is an odd guy now.

They lead me to a private room where my confusion only grows. I’m met with three older guys. I recognize one as my father’s lawyer, Cornelious. I’ve known him for as long as I can recall. He’s been meeting with my father at the house a lot these last couple months. Another one of the men is a business partner of my fathers, Owen. The third guy is a stranger to me, but the expensive suit and calculating eyes tell me he is someone important. 

“Happy Birthday, Rowan,” Owen says, speaking first. He stands to shake my hand, his grip firm and his gaze lingering on me a moment too long. It makes my skin crawl and I pull my hand back probably a second too soon. Quickly I offer him a polite smile. I’m on my best behavior after all, as per my fathers very clear instruction.

“Thank you, Mr. Reid,” I say, slipping into the role I play so well. That of perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect Lyle. I’ve perfected this over the years. Life is easier when you keep the family name pristine.

As we sit around the table, I’m sandwiched between my father and Olivie, directly across from Owen. He starts asking me questions, the usual small talk about my interests, my plans for the future. I answer easily, giving him the polished responses everyone expects from me. But the longer he talks, the more I notice his eyes drifting to my chest, and I suddenly feel too exposed in this dress.

I try to pull the neckline up, but it’s no use. The fabric clings to me like a second skin, and I’m left feeling like an ornament on display.

This certainly isn’t what I would have chosen to dress in had I known what I’d be walking into here. Unfortunately I didn’t know what I was walking into and there's nothing to be done now.

“Rowan is quite accomplished,” my father says, jumping into the conversation. “Top of her class even in University, involved in charity work, and very focused on her future.”

Owen nods, still staring at me, and I feel like I’m suffocating under his gaze. As they continue talking about me as if I’m no longer in the room I try to focus on what they’re saying, but their words start to blur, turning into a confusing mix of business jargon and code words that I can’t quite decipher.

Then, I hear it—one word that makes my blood run cold. Engagement.

I nearly choke on the water I’m sipping, my eyes darting to my father. “What...what’s going on? Who’s engagement?”

He doesn’t look at me, still focused on the other men. “I’m securing your future, Rowan. Our family’s future.”

I feel the room spinning, the walls closing in as the reality of the situation sinks in. This isn’t a birthday dinner. This isn’t a celebration. This is a business deal, and I’m the commodity.

I might as well not have drank any of the water a moment ago because my throat is as dry as the dessert. Cotton dry and I think I’ll choke on words if I try to speak them again.

My father leans forwards, his elbows on the table, effectively dismissing me from the conversation. I’m left sitting there, the diamond pendant around my neck suddenly feeling like a chain, a noose. Binding me to a future I never wanted.

Happy birthday, Rowan. 

Push To Restart

CHAPTER 2

MADDOCK

It’s barely dawn and I’m already up. Didn’t even need the alarm after the last few hours of restlessness. Sitting up on my bed, I run my fingers through my hair and down my face trying to understand how morning came so fast. Sleep hasn’t been as easy as I thought it would be since I got out. Just one more thing I have to get accustomed to I guess.

I stretch my arms over my head, feeling the pull in my muscles, then stand up glancing around the room. It’s not much, nothing special– just a bed, small dresser, and a window that barely lets in enough light to see anything. But it’s mine, and for now, that’s enough.

I move through my morning on autopilot. Shower, dress, two frozen waffles for breakfast. I keep it simple, and more importantly clean. No time for bullshit anymore, I’m maintaining order, even in the little things. The kitchen is tight, just enough room for the necessities– stove, microwave, toaster, the smallest counter you’ve probably ever seen, and a single chair. Underwhelming but it serves its purpose just fine.

Once I’m done, I down a glass of water, grab my jacket and head out the door, locking it behind me. The crisp morning air hits my face as I walk down the narrow staircase of my building, the familiar creak of the steps underfoot. I’ve been living in this old apartment for a few months now, and it’s starting to feel like a second skin—worn, but comfortable in its own way.

By the time I get to the shop, the sun is barely up, but I like it that way, prefer it that way even. The quiet gives me time to think, to get my head straight before the world wakes up. My dad, Slater, is already there, as usual. Tinkering with an old engine, his hands are covered in grease, some of it smudged across his forehead. He looks up when I walk in, giving me a nod of acknowledgment.

“Mornin’, Maddock,” he grunts, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Mornin’, Pops,” I reply, heading over to the workbench where I left the muscle car I was working on yesterday. It’s a beauty—a ’67 Mustang, all sleek lines and raw power. The kind of car that makes you feel alive when you’re behind the wheel.

But today, I’m just fixing it up. That’s the deal I made with myself—no more racing, no more fighting. Just work, keep my head down, and stay out of trouble.

“How’s it coming along?” He asks, coming over to inspect my progress.

“Almost done,” I say, tightening a bolt. “Just needs a few more adjustments, and she’ll be good as new.”

My dad nods, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “You’re doing good, son. I can see that already.”

I don’t say anything, just keep working. I know he means well, but there’s always that voice in the back of my mind, whispering that it’s only a matter of time before I mess it all up again. I can feel it, the fact that I’m one situation away from falling back. One comment, one sideways glance, one trigger.

We work in silence for a while, the sounds of the shop familiar and steady. It’s comforting, in a way—something to focus on that doesn’t require me to think too much. Just hands-on work, one step at a time. Tighten this, check that, replace those… just me and the cars.

It’s not long before Gavin strolls in, still half-asleep, rubbing his eyes. He’s younger by just three years at 16, and the kid looks up to me even though I’ve given him every reason not to. But I’m trying to change that, trying to be someone he can actually respect, the brother he deserves. Or at least one he doesn’t have to mail letters to.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” I tease, tossing a wrench his way. He catches it with a scowl.

“Yeah, yeah, real funny,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You hear about the race coming up?”

I freeze for a split second, my hands tightening on my own wrench before I force myself to keep moving. “Yeah, heard something about it,” I say casually. “Not my scene anymore.”

Gavin looks at me, his eyes narrowing. “You sure about that? ‘Cause Nate was asking around about you.”

My jaw clenches, but I keep my voice steady. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Good,” Our dad says, cutting in with a firm tone. “You don’t need to be getting involved in that crowd again.”

I nod, but there's a tension in my chest that doesn't ease. I know they’re right, but it doesn’t stop the pull, the itch under my skin that comes with the thought of racing again. It’s not just the speed or the thrill—it’s the only place I ever felt like I was in control of something. Funny because I wasn’t even in control of myself back then, but being in control of the car felt like enough for me.

We work through the morning, the time slipping by as I lose myself in the rhythm of the shop. My dad and Gavin leave me to handle the shop for the last few hours on my own before closing. It’s only when I’m about to double check the books and make sure we’ve finished everything set for today that I hear the creak of the door opening. I don’t bother looking up for a moment, expecting a customer. “Be with you in a minute.” I say flipping through the first sheet of paper. 

“By all means, take your time Mads. There's no rush.” My stomach drops at that familiar gravelly voice and I snap my head up.

“Nate,” I say, my voice flat as I wipe my hands on a rag. “What are you doing here?”

Nate saunters in like he owns the place, a grin on his face that never quite reaches his eyes. He’s dressed sharp, like he always is, but there’s a roughness to him that never really goes away. The kind of guy who’s always looking for the next big score. He’s worked his way from Southside to Northside, turned himself into a mix of two worlds that just don’t blend well together.

“Just came to check in on an old friend,” he says smoothly, looking around the shop. “Heard you were keeping busy.”

“Something like that,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

Nate strolls closer, his gaze lingering on the Mustang I’m working on. “Still got the touch, I see. Too bad you’re wasting it fixing up old cars when you could be out there, showing everyone what you’re really made of.”

I don’t rise to the bait. “I’m good where I am.”

“Really?” Nate’s voice is full of doubt. “’Cause there’s a big race going down on Friday. High stakes, high rewards. Could be just like old times, Mads. You know you want to.”

My hands tighten around the rag, but I force myself to keep calm. “I’m done with that, Nate. I’m out.”

“Come on, man, just one more race, for old times sake,” Nate says, leaning in like we’re sharing a secret. “One more, that’s all. In and out, quick cash. You could probably take home more in one night than you’ll make in a month here. Help out your Pops.”

The temptation is like a punch to the gut. He’s not wrong—the shop’s barely scraping by, and the money would be more than helpful. But it’s more than that. It’s the rush, the control, the feeling that nothing else matters when you’re behind the wheel. 

But I’ve been down that road before, and I know where it leads.

“I said I’m out,” I reply, my voice firmer this time. “I’ve got a good thing going here. I’m not screwing it up.”

Nate studies me for a long moment, then shrugs, a smirk on his face. “Alright, man. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us. Midnight. There’s always room for one more.”

He turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him, but the tension in my chest doesn’t go away. I watch him go, my hands gripping the edge of the workbench as I fight the urge to follow him, to throw it all away for one more time.

It’s not until the door’s closed and the shop is quiet again that I let out a long breath, trying to shake off the feeling. I’ve worked too hard to get here, too hard to let it all slip through my fingers.

But as I pick up my tools and get back to work, the thought of that race sticks with me, like a ghost I can’t quite shake. The pull is still there, buried deep, waiting for any excuse to rise to the surface. Technically it wasn’t the race that got me into trouble in the first place either. Racing itself was never the issue, not really.

I lock up the shop that evening, the sun dipping low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The city feels different at this hour—calmer, but with an undercurrent of something more dangerous, more alive. Something I wish I could be a part of again.

But I can’t. I won’t. It’s not worth it, not anymore.

As I stand outside the shop, looking out at the city, I make a silent vow to myself. I’m going to make this new life work, no matter what it takes. I’m not that guy anymore, and I won’t let anyone drag me back into that world.

But deep down, I can’t help but wonder if I’m lying to myself. 

Over The Bridge

CHAPTER 3

ROWAN

Never thought I’d be disgusted by the sight of diamonds in a million years, yet here I am. They shine brightly in all their different shapes and sizes and the sight almost makes me nauseous. The jeweler smiles kindly at me, completely unaware that I’d rather be doing anything but this and my heart sinks even deeper into my chest. “Is there a shape you had in mind or any of these that you like?” he asks. His voice is smooth and practiced, meanwhile I want to scream.

Instead I pick one up, holding it between my fingers. It’s emerald cut, huge, and set in a band surrounded by smaller diamonds. It's heavy, feeling like the shackle it is. My father looks at me expectantly and I fight not to let my own smile slip. “No,” I finally answer, “not really.”

“Why don’t you take another look, sweetie?” my father suggests though it’s more of an order in reality.

“Well I have another box if these ones aren’t quite your style Miss,” the jeweler says, pulling out another case of rings and placing it on our dining room table. I force myself to move closer, trying to keep my expression schooled. 

“They’re all so beautiful really,” I direct to the jeweler before turning towards my father. “You know how I am dad, I can’t handle so many options. How about you just pick one for me, whichever one you think is best? That way it can be a little surprise, just like the rest of this.”

My father frowns, clearly displeased with my lack of enthusiasm and catching on to the double meaning of my words, but he won’t argue in front of guests. “We’ll take care of it then,” he says.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak again. I need to get out of here, now. I hear the jeweler telling my father about options for customization just as I leave to head up to my room. 

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, nearly struggling to recognize the girl staring back at me.  I barely  have the energy to change my clothes but the opportunity to wear whatever I want seems to be quickly slipping away from me. I won’t pass up on this chance. The stiff tweed dress I wore earlier is now replaced by a pair of ripped jeans and a simple tank top. This is me, or at least the version of me I prefer. 

I lace up my black boots, grab my favorite keys with steady hands and head for the garage.  The moment I’m behind the wheel of my car, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. This is where I belong—in control, with the power to go wherever I want, as fast as I want.

I smile to myself as I drive over the bridge connecting two opposite worlds, the knowledge that my father would have a heart attack if he new where I was going. The familiar sights and sounds calm my nerves. The further I get from the Northside, the more I can breathe again, like I’m shedding a skin that never completely fit.

The engine roars beneath me as I pull into the lot, the vibrations running through my entire body like a jolt of electricity. The Southside is alive tonight, the air buzzing with anticipation. Cars are lined up, headlights cutting through the darkness, while groups of people gather around, talking, laughing, betting on who’s going to take home the win. If they’re smart they’re betting on me. 

As I step out of my car, I can feel the tension from earlier start to fade away. Here, I’m not the girl who’s being forced into a marriage she doesn’t want. Here, I’m just another racer, one who’s ready to prove herself on the asphalt.

“Rowan!” someone calls out, and I turn to see Jace walking toward me with his trademark cocky grin. His dark hair is tousled, and he’s got that swagger that makes him both irritating and endearing all at once.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite loser,” I tease, leaning against my car as he approaches.

“Funny,” he says, stopping in front of me and giving my car an appreciative once-over. “Looks like you finally washed her. Maybe that’ll give you a fighting chance tonight.”

I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. “You wish. This baby’s going to leave you eating dust, as per usual.”

Jace laughs, the sound genuine and infectious. “You talk a big game, Row, but you know I’ve been tuning up my ride for weeks. You might be in for a surprise tonight.”

“Is that right?” I raise an eyebrow, feigning interest. “What’d you do this time? Install more Christmas lights under the chassis?”

His grin widens. “Nah, something a little more practical. Turbocharged the engine, tweaked the suspension. She’s purring like a damn lion.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the spark of excitement that ignites in my chest. Jace might be a pain in the ass, but he’s one of the best racers out here. Knowing that he’s pulling out all the stops tonight makes the stakes even higher, and I live for that kind of challenge.

“Guess we’ll see who’s got the better ride,” I say, pushing off from the car and moving closer to him, the competitive edge sharpening in my voice. “But don’t cry when I leave you in the dust, okay?”

“Cry?” Jace scoffs, stepping closer so we’re almost toe-to-toe. “The only thing I’ll be crying about is how easy the win was. Maybe I’ll even let you take the lead for a bit, just to give you a taste of victory before I snatch it away.”

I laugh, genuinely amused. “You’re full of it, Jace. But that’s why I love you.”

He gives me a mock bow. “And here I thought you loved me for my charm and good looks.”

“Keep on dreaming, pretty boy,” I shoot back, nudging his shoulder as I head toward the starting line.

The other racers are already lined up, engines revving, headlights blazing through the dark. The energy is palpable, a mix of adrenaline, fear, and excitement. This is what I live for—the moment right before the race, when anything is possible and everything is on the line.

Jace takes his place beside me, and I can see the focus in his eyes, the playful teasing replaced by a steely determination. He wants this win as badly as I do, and that only makes me more determined to take it from him.

“You ready, Row?” he calls out over the roar of the engines, his hands gripping the wheel.

I glance at him, my heart pounding in sync with the revs of my engine. “Always.”

The flagger steps up, raising his hand, and for a split second, everything goes silent. The world narrows to just me, my car, and the road ahead.

Then the flag drops, and we’re off.

The tires squeal against the pavement as I slam down on the accelerator, the car surging forward with a force that pushes me back into my seat. The wind whips through the open windows, the night blurring around me as the city lights flash by in a streak of colors. My heart is in my throat, adrenaline pumping through my veins like fire.

Jace is right beside me, his blue corvette a dark blur in my peripheral vision. We’re neck and neck, the engines roaring like wild animals, but I don’t let up. I push the car harder, feeling the thrill of control as I navigate the twists and turns with precision.

The first corner comes up fast, and I take it tight, the tires gripping the road with a screech. Jace is right on my tail, pushing me to my limits, but I don’t back down. I can feel the car responding to every movement, every command, like it’s an extension of my own body. This is what I love—the feeling of being completely in control, the rush of speed, the challenge of outmaneuvering the competition. 

We hit a straight stretch, and I floor it, the engine roaring as the speedometer climbs. Jace is still right there, refusing to give an inch, but I’ll bet I know this stretch of road better than he does. I’ve raced it a dozen times and even more in my head, memorizing every crack, every bump, every detail.

As we approach the final turn, I make my move. I brake hard, the car swerving slightly as I cut inside, taking the turn with just enough room to spare. Jace tries to follow, but he’s a fraction of a second too late, and I see him fall back in my rearview mirror as I gun it for the finish line.

The crowd is a blur as I speed past, the adrenaline still coursing through me as I cross the line just ahead of Jace. I can barely hear the cheers over the pounding of my heart, the thrill of victory washing over me in a wave of pure exhilaration.

I pull the car to a stop, my hands shaking slightly from the intensity of the race. The engine hums as I sit there for a moment, catching my breath, letting the reality of the win sink in. This is exactly what I needed—to feel alive, to feel like I’m in control of something, anything. The thrill of having my life in my own hands. 

Jace pulls up beside me, shaking his head in disbelief, but there’s a smile on his face. He gets out of his car and walks over, clapping his hands in mock applause.

“Well, well, well,” he says, grinning. “Looks like the champ strikes again.”

I step out of the car, unable to hide my smile. “You going to cry about it, Jace? Should I get you some tissues?”

He laughs, offering me a handshake that I take with pride. “No but one of these days, I’m going to take that crown from you.”

“Keep dreaming,” I say, releasing his hand.

Our teasing is light, but there’s a mutual respect between us, born from countless nights like this one. Jace is one of the few people who pushes me to be better, faster. He’s also one of my few friends and for that, I’m grateful. But I never let him forget who’s the reigning champion.

As the crowd starts to disperse, I grab my jacket from the car and nod to Jace. “I’m heading to the shop. Gotta make sure everything’s in top shape for the next time I come to beat you.”

He nods, giving me a knowing look. “Tell Slater I said hi. And maybe ask him for a few pointers while you’re at it. You’re gonna need ‘em.”

I smirk, rolling my eyes. “You wish.”

With that, I slide back into my car, the thrill of the race still buzzing in my veins. As I drive away from the lot, the Southside streets feel like home again, familiar and comforting in their rugged unpredictability. But tonight, something feels different—there’s a lingering tension, a sense that something’s about to change. Probably because my entire life is about to change unless I find a way to change my fathers mind. 

When I pull up to Slater’s shop, the lights are off, and the place looks deserted. But I don’t hesitate as I park and head inside. Slater’s always around, even if he’s just tinkering in the back.

“Slater?” I call out, my voice echoing in the empty space.

But instead of the gruff, familiar voice of the old man, another voice responds from the shadows, one that makes me stop in my tracks. “If it isn’t Northside’s very own princess.”

“Maddock,” I say, my surprise evident. “Didn’t realize you were… back.”

He steps into the light, his expression unreadable as he looks at me. “Why would you? I’m sure you’ve been busy with your real life. You know, since you only come down here when you feel like playing with the peasants.”

“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And yet my favorite peasant to play with wasn’t where I needed him to be. Did you get tired of losing, Mads?”

“No not quite, just got tired of seeing you dress up and parade around like you belong here.” For fucks sake this man is infuriating. He talks about me acting as if I belong here while he acts like he knows anything about me at all. He has no fucking clue. 

“You’re a miserable person Maddock. I figured you’d learn how to face that on your own and stop projecting all your anger on other people while you were in prison, but I guess not.”

“Why don’t you just go back to your perfect little life Row? Go back to your Northside castle and leave us little people down here alone for once? Hmm?” Listening to him call my life perfect boils my blood because he’s so sure of himself in doing so. He’s so sure that he knows what he’s talking about and he doesn’t. He knows nothing. Just like everyone else. 

I step closer to him, waving bye bye to the space between us as I get in his face. If he wants to make me out to be the princess and himself one of the peasants, then so be it. “I have a better idea,” I say, “why don’t you do what little people are meant for, and do as you’re told?”

He arches a tick brow and tilts his head to the side as he looks down at me. I wish he was shorter, that his height matched his outlook on life. That way I’d be the one looking down at him. I also wish his eyes didn’t look the way they do– like something you want to stare into. “And what is it you’re telling me to do, Princess?” His voice is laced with that familiar anger it usually holds when we exchange more than three words, but it’s nothing compared to the last time I saw him angry. Nothing compared to the end of that race. 

That's when it hits me. So many people were there, so many people watched him. Everyone knows Maddock, even Northsiders that never venture down here. And they know him for all the wrong reasons.

Bad temper. 

Zero impulse control. 

Criminal. 

He by far has the worst reputation of anyone I know. And I could certainly benefit from a bad reputation right now. 

“Well you can start by looking over my car,” I answer, with an idea that could either make or break the rest of my life. 

“And then?”

“And then you can make a deal with me.”

“We’ll see about that part,” he says, holding his hand out to me. I drop the keys to my Ferrari also known as my pride and joy into his waiting palm. I follow him out to the car and lean against the driver's side door as he starts checking everything out. I watch as he leans under the hood, his broad shoulders tense as he looks over the engine. At least I think that's what he’s looking at. I’m not the mechanic, he is.

The overhead light casts shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to read as I struggle to come up with a way to propose this deal. I’m a little desperate but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much.

It’s silent with the exception of the sound of Maddock tinkering with a couple things here and there. He’s been under there for a while, occasionally glancing at me like he’s trying to decide whether I’m worth talking to or not. “You’re going to need a new timing belt soon,” he says, shutting the hood and leaning over to look at something else. “And your tires need to be replaced. You’d think after all this time you’d learn better than to push the car so hard every damn time.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take your advice on how to drive.”

“Why not? Is it because you really can’t fathom the idea that you might be doing something wrong?”

“Not at all, I simply don’t take advice from losers. If I recall correctly, you were always in second, right?”

“You don’t recall correctly though, do you?”

“Right, there's the exception of that one time. How could I forget?” I ask the sarcasm thick in my voice. I probably shouldn’t be so defensive when I need his help but I can’t help it when he’s straddling his high horse trying to tell me all about myself.

“My god, you’re such a brat. You want your car fixed or not, princess? I’m not going back and forth with you all night.”

“Yes, whatever. Fix it.” Getting the next word out feels like pulling teeth but I know it's necessary if we’re meant to get anywhere. “Please.”

“Gladly however,” he says, glancing over at an old clock on the wall. “I’ll need to keep it overnight, we closed two minutes ago so…”

“Mads, you’re joking right now. I’ll just bring it back tomorrow.”

“Nah, can’t let you do that. I don’t think it’s safe to drive in this state.”

“It’s not that bad you’re just being a pain in the ass.”

“That’s your opinion, but I’m the professional here so mine means more. I can’t in good conscience give you back the keys.” Maddock says grinning from ear to ear, his amusement evident in his voice.

“You know what fine. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

I wave my hand at him telling him to be quiet as I pull out my phone to call James to pick me up. He answers on the third ring and his voice is a bit groggy as he greets me. I appreciate that he doesn’t ask any questions about what I’m doing needing a ride from the southside at this hour but I know I’ll have some explaining to do once he gets here.

“Look I need a favor from you.” I tell Maddock as I hang up the phone.

“Oh yeah?” he says, voice dripping with skepticism. “What kind of favor?” I hesitate, looking anywhere but his face as I search for the best way to say this. “Come on Row, spit it out or leave–”

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Maddock straightens up, whipping his hands on a rag as he turns to face me. His hazel eyes narrow on me, some mix of disbelief and suspicion. “You need me to what?”

“Just for a little while. Lets just say there's a guy who won’t leave me alone and with your reputation a certain proximity to you might help me out.”

“Right, since I’m such a terrible person–”

“I didn’t say that, but let's be for real for a minute. You know what people think about you, it’s no secret. I don’t have to agree with it to see it.”

“Yeah, whatever makes you feel better about yourself. Why don’t you just tell this guy to leave you alone.”

“Oh right, because I didn’t think of that before. Thank you so much Maddock, you’re such a genius, my knight in shining armor.” I say, turning around and falling into his arms with the back of my hand pressed over my forehead like a damsel in distress.

“Get off me before I let you fall on your ass.”

“Happily, as soon as you realize the situation isn’t that simple.”

“Alright I get it,” he says and I stand up and step away. “So what’s the deal, what’s going on.”

“I already told you, I just need to get someone to leave me alone. I know they’re big on appearances so I need to appear less…” I start struggling to finish the thought.

“Perfect?” He fills in for me.

“Sure.”

“So who is it?”

The last thing I’m willing to do is tell him the specifics of what's going on. “Does it matter?”

“Not really no, but what does matter is the fact that you're clearly hiding something.” he says, his voice low. “You’re not telling me everything.”

I feel the slightest flicker of panic filter through me. This is not going how I’d like it to. “We’re not exactly friends, so no I’m not telling you everything. I’m telling you what you need to know, the rest isn’t important.”

Maddock arches an eyebrow, clearly not completely convinced. “And what’s in it for me? Why should I go along with this ridiculous plan?”

“I’ll owe you,” I say quickly, hoping it’s enough. “Anything you need. Anything at all. You just name it.”

Maddock lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “So, you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, go out on a limb for you, and in return, I get an IOU? Not exactly a fair trade, Princess.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” I insist, stepping closer to him. “Whatever you want, Maddock. You have my word.”

He stares at me for a long moment, and I can feel the tension building between us, thick and heavy. I know he doesn’t trust me, and honestly, I don’t blame him. But I’m desperate, and I need him to say yes. “Please Maddock, we both know you would love if I was indebted to you.”

He lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really something, Row, but you’re not wrong. I’ll do it, and when I come to collect that IOU, you better pull through.”

“Thank you–”

“We’re going to need rules.” Maddock says, when suddenly a black car pulls up beside us in the parking lot. Mads steps away as James steps out of the car to lean against it.

“Miss Rowan.”

“Um, thank you for coming, Jay.”

“We’ll talk when you come to pick up the car tomorrow. Any time after we open is fine.” Maddock says, stepping in to help with the tension I was obviously feeling.

I take a seat in the passenger seat this time since my father likely won't be awake when we get back to the house, and Jay closes the door for me as we get ready to leave. I watch as Maddock stares at the car while Jay gets into the driver's seat. He watches as if he can see me through the dark tint of the window and I don’t look away until Jay takes off, driving back out of the lot.

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do little missy. What was that?”

“Promise to keep this between you and me?” I ask. Jay holds a hand out towards me, his pinky sticking up and I link mine with his in a quick promise. “I expect this to be a judgment free zone.”

“It always is…”