Drift by Anita Morenos

Chapter 1

Ethan had a talent for making his dad a problem. He turned a gift into another thing to rile up the CEO of Mantra Oil, his boss, Mr. Silas Reynolds. I always chalked it up to bored rich kid syndrome, but maybe this time was just a little too far.

"You are in Southpoint to work, not to play with cars!" Mr. Reynolds' voice was loud enough to challenge my phone's speaker quality. "This car wasn't just a gift, it was also something I trusted you with. And you went and made your own instead. Damian, did you know?"

Being overly-conscious of Ethan stewing in frustration next to me made me just a tad slow to respond. "S-Sir, the car is—"

"Don't defend him here. Did you know what he was buying?"

"N-No, I did not." He rarely yelled, and even less so at me. It threw me out of focus.

"You wouldn't pull this shit here in Los Cielos with me watching," Mr. Reynolds continued. "Get your head out of the exhaust pipe and focus on your job, or you're coming back here, in my office. If you're even listening, say you understand."

Ethan leaned over the counter and hovered over my phone closer than he needed to. "I. Under. Stand."

Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat. "Damian, return the car."

Ethan sat back on the stool so fast he almost fell backward. He gave me his blue-eyed 'please fix this' puppy look. His black hair going in different directions made him look less twenty-five and more like a college freshman who thought he was a punk but was the furthest thing from it. It wasn't like he deserved my help.

"I'm driving it," I said. "It's a really good car." I didn't actually know this-had yet to see it for my-self. "We're picking it up on Monday."

"Damian, don't you each have your own car?"

"Mine's still in the shop," I said, thinking fast. "I went to get that noise looked at, just like you said.

We're using Ethan's old Lexus right now."

"What?" He sounded less angry, at least, but now he was confused. "When did I say that? What noise?"

"Oh, it was a while ago-couple weeks ago, I think. I waited till we settled in Southpoint since we're working remotely anyway, you know?" Ethan watched me lie for him and his stupid fancy custom car. I hated lying to his dad. "But you were right to look at it soon, sir. We found an issue with the alternator and it's in the shop right now."

I half-glanced at Ethan to see if that even made sense, which he confirmed with a slight nod. He was the car nerd, not me, so I could count on that, at least.

"I see." Mr. Reynolds was calmer and it took less than a minute this time. "Damian, you're in charge of the car. I'll see it for myself and decide if Ethan gets to keep it. Keep an eye on emails about the renovations. I'll be out on a full day of meetings Monday."

Both Ethan and I relaxed a little. Our Friday wasn't totally ruined.

"Are the tremors still bad out there?" Mr. Reynolds said. "The contractor said he was slowing down as a precaution. The crew might need an extension.

"Just two's and three's," I reported. "I'll message them if they want us to go take a look." The Central Valley rarely got this much action so early in the year. Usually, small clusters of earthquakes popped up in the summer months, but it was April and tremors were already stirring up our early mornings.

The call ended with quick goodbyes, none of which came from Ethan. I took my phone back, thinking about what to say that wouldn't piss Ethan off further, but also let me close out my work day in peace.

Skype calls and emails weren't so bad in Ethan's McMansion and on his ginormous L-shaped couch, in which I could be a shrimp for hours on end, but I could only put up with his brooding for so long.

Now I wondered if his moodiness was because he knew his dad would find out before he secured the custom car. I doubted he worried about not telling me, which he could've done. I wasn't a snitch all the time.

If anything, I didn't mind being in cahoots with Ethan. We were similar in age and, on a good day, we got along just fine. But he was my boss, and his dad was his boss, and between the two of them, CEO Mr. Reynolds always won whether Ethan liked it or not.

He combed his fingers through his dark hair, his bed head looking more intentional now that his fringe swooped up pretty evenly. "So, you're done for the day?" He was kicking me out, thank God.

"Yep." I went around the kitchen island and picked up my iPad from the couch. "Don't forget to eat. I'm off the clock till Monday."

He scoffed, but didn't say anything else. I said the same thing all the time.

"Emergencies only!" I added as I closed the door behind me. The bright afternoon pelted me with sun rays that made my skin feel like it was shriveling up. Ethan's neighborhood was in early development stages, but I lived in Southpoint proper. I was free to scurry home before anyone could see me.

***

A couple of fours rattled Southpoint Saturday morning, but it didn't ruin my day off in the slightest. Ethan had texted if I was alright, but it was nothing to worry about.

I thought there were more tremors later that night when some man outside my loft screamed my name, scaring me out of my sleep. No man had yelled my name like that since high school and I thought I was having an old nightmare.

I was cramped up on my couch, the ground floor of my loft was dim with the outside lamplight filtering in through the living room curtains. My Kobo was on the carpet next to my slippers. It wasn't tremors making noise now, but fists banging on my door.

I peeked out the window, stunned that Ethan was outside at two a.m. He was a Los Cielos native-no way did little earthquakes shake him so bad. I unlocked and opened the door, not caring my wavy hair looked like a pile of shredded lettuce. "Dude, it's not that serious-"

He walked in and pushed me aside with a groan. "Don't tell my dad." He clutched his shoulder, his baby blue t-shirt covered in dirt.

The only good news was that Ethan avoided a direct hit to his face, just superficial cuts to the side of his head and chin. His arms had scrapes, shallow bits of skin and dirt mixed in that were a bitch to clean. I couldn't do much about the bruises on his chest and back.

It didn't help that he wouldn't tell me where this happened or even why. All he did was promise that it wouldn't happen again. He was adamant that I didn't tell his dad. Even if I wanted to, I wasn't sure how. I was more stunned than angry about him going places he shouldn't without telling me.

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