Girls Like Boys

Travis turned the car back on and glanced backwards down the street briefly before he pulled out into the road and turned around completely. He pulled into the farthest right lane and turned onto First street, breezing through the stop sign.

“Where are we going?” I asked, leaning back against the corner of the door so that I could see him and the road and the way we’d come. The restaurant quickly disappeared from view as we passed through the green light a block down.

Travis changed lanes as he answered, peering off to his left for a moment before gliding through a second green light. “I figured I’d take you back to my house,” he said easily. “Then you can see for yourself.”

“I’m still mad,” I said, although I wasn't sure if I was as mad as I'd been earlier. “I could get in serious trouble for being around you, Travis. And I wasn’t joking about Charlie. When I go home, am I just supposed to keep this secret from him?”

Travis narrowed his eyes at me. “You don’t have any secrets from your dad?”

I didn’t bother to answer him with words. Instead, I glared and slid my arms over my chest. “Tell me everything.”

Travis peered at me out of the corner of his eye for just a moment. He spoke as he looked back to the road. “And then what? You’ll decide if you still want to be friends with me? You’ll demand I take you home and never speak to me again? What happens after I tell you?”

“Travis, I - “ I sputtered, trying to figure out how he made my demand entirely arbitrary. I shook my head, took a deep, annoyed breath, and stared at him as he rolled to a stop behind an oversized truck.

One hand on the steering wheel, the other in his lap, he shifted towards me the best he could. “It’s just a hobby, Cody. Something I do that I enjoy, and yes, I make money too, but is that really such a bad thing?”

“It’s illegal,” I said. “By default, that makes it a bad thing.”

The darkness in the car was god-sent. The streetlights casted hazy, red and green glows over Travis, making his sharp, smooth features harsher and harder to read. Likewise, I hoped my own expressions were obscured by the streetlights.

“I’ve never hurt anyone,” Travis answered, resigned. “Racing doesn’t hurt anyone. Selling the cars doesn’t hurt anyone. I win, I make money, and I take care of myself, Cody.”

“You can’t legally sell stolen cars, Trav,” I said softly.

The boy hooked a left off the main road and haphazardly maneuvered us down a series of side streets. The buildings transitioned from family homes to larger warehouses and factories the further we went into the maze of the city.

“People sign up to race, Code,” Travis said, slowing as he rounded a sharp corner onto a wider street. “It’s not my fault that they’re arrogant enough to stake their car on their belief that they can beat me.”

His words brushed over me as I tried to get a grip on where we were. Ram and I had driven through the main part of the city a couple of times, but never ventured into specific neighborhoods. I’d been paying attention when Travis deviated from the main roads, but somehow I’d lost track of our direction.

“Where are we going?” I asked, whipping to the boy in the dark. “I thought we were going to your house? This is all businesses and stuff.”

The road was just two lanes, but wider than most. The buildings were getting sparser and sparser the further we went. There were a few parking lots now, with large, oversized factories set back from the road. If they were just abandoned for the night or indefinitely, I couldn’t tell.

Despite our terse conversation, Travis grinned at me in the dark. “Lets just say that my house isn’t entirely conventional,” he said, pressing down on the gas as the street narrowed to two newly repaved lanes.

“It’ll get back to Ramsy if you kill me out here,” I retorted, although unafraid.

Travis laughed and nodded. “I wouldn’t dare cross your sister."

Without warning, Travis took a steep left and then another into a wide driveway that lined yet another warehouse. The front of it was riddled with a row of garage doors and nothing else. Travis pulled forward to the right of the building where a garage protruded from the main part of the building, creating an ‘L’ of garage doors along the facade.

“This is not your house,” I said, frowning as I looked for any sign of life. There were wide windows above the garage doors, but they were too high to see into. No light showed through the windows so there was no way of knowing what was inside. The building itself was oversized, at least two stories tall. The walls were slate gray and smooth, like they were pieced together and recently painted over.

I deliberately kept my seatbelt on as Travis took his off. Seeing my reluctance, Travis sighed obnoxiously and faced me. “What?” he asked.

“Is this a drug run?”

Shock passed over his features quickly, transitioning into disbelief. Amusement flashed onto his features and stayed there. He shook his head at me. “I already told you that I’m not mixed up with drugs, Cody. I’m mixed up with cars.” He nodded towards the garage door to the right of us. “Lets go in and I’ll show you what this place is. Don't forget your food.”

I sighed like he had, loudly and uncertainly, throwing my seatbelt off. Travis grinned at my reluctant acceptance and climbed up and out of his car. He rounded the hood of it until he was near me and then darted forward to the door that was tucked into the apex of the “L” made by the parts of his warehouse.

I didn’t comment on the fact that I hadn’t even noticed that there was an actual front door built into the building. Travis riffled through his keys until he found the right one and jammed it into the deadbolt just below eye level. He let that key drop back into the pile and unlocked the handle next. After a couple seconds of jangling keys, Travis slammed his shoulder into the door and stepped inside.

I looked around at the darkened garage as we entered. It was simple enough. It was just big enough to fit two cars, but even then there was only one parked along the far wall. I wanted to ask Travis if this was where he usually parked, but he was already searching his key ring for another one. The only other door in the room was on the left wall, juxtapose to the one we came through.

Travis turned the key and grabbed the handle with his right as he pulled the key out with his left. He glanced back at me to make sure I was paying attention, and then he pushed it open, stepping up and inside.

I walked up behind him, trying to see over his shoulder as he walked in. I stepped up into the main part of the house as I heard Travis’s name from the other side of the room.

The room. It was more than just a room. It was the size of a warehouse, vaulted so that it was more than two stories tall. The windows that I’d seen from the outside were tinted so that I could see out but light couldn’t escape the room. There were three cars in the center of the room, each one having come through a different garage door in the main wall of the house. There was a half-wall that ran through the center of the room. Unconnected to anything else, it served to hold shelving units, which, in turn, held tools and tools and more tools.

On the other side were archways that led to open rooms. At the far end, practically obscured from sight, was a stairwell that rounded up to the second floor, a loft, really. The rooms on the first floor were mostly open. The entryway room looked like a living room, the room next door, to the right, had windows spanning the entire front of it, placed on either side of a glass door. The corner room was the biggest of them all. Another archway there led into an oversized kitchen.

Directly to my right were two sets of double doors and a single wooden door. All closed.

My lips parted as I looked at Travis’s house. My eyes scanned the loft. From my angle, the stairs opened up to a railed hallway that overlooked the cars and the half wall and the tools. There were three doors straight on and one in the corner. The corner room was directly above the kitchen and the wall that jutted out over the entryway was all windows. Dark curtains blocked my view of the room.

“What is this place?” I asked, mostly to myself, mostly involuntarily. The place was a maze of vaulted ceilings, windows, and entryways contrasted with glass and double doors.

I looked to my left in surprise as a couple familiar people darted out of the living room-looking room. Benji practically skipped to the line of cars. He leaned against the first one, farthest from us, and rested his elbows on the hood, grinning.

“You finally caved and brought her,” he said, laughing cheekily. “I knew you wouldn’t last any longer hanging out in that dorm room.”

Travis, who looked perfectly at ease in this place, grinned back and shook his head at his friend. He shrugged off his coat as he spoke. “It had nothing to do with the dorm,” he disagreed, heading straight for the car farthest from us. “In fact, it’s actually kind of nice being able to go somewhere without you lot buzzing around me like flies.”

As I stepped forward, following Travis, I realized that Ryan was standing just under the second-floor loft, in the entryway leading in to the living room.

He saw me too and smiled easily, cautiously, like he could gauge how overwhelmed I was. In reaction, I tried to clear my expression, remain calm. I glanced to Travis, hoping for acknowledgment or explanation, but he stepped over to the black car Benji was leaning on.

“Did you figure out how water is getting into the fuel tank?” he asked, rambling off specifics from an obvious earlier conversation.

Benji frowned and shook his head. The movement drew me back to their conversation as he answered. “I checked the fuel filler. There’s no corrosion and the pipe connections are fine. We might just have to replace the piping from the tank to the pump and see if that fixes it.”

Travis nodded easily, lips pursed as he skirted around the edges of the car. He slid his sleeves up to his elbows and reached for something.

“Trav, maybe the Mazda can wait until Cody isn’t standing in the corner, waiting for an explanation.” Ryan stepped up from his place and shot me an easy grin as his cousin snapped out of whatever pull drew him to the malfunctioning car.

Travis’s head snapped up to me and he nodded quickly, smiling again as he left the car behind. “Sorry, Code. We’ve been working on the car all week. Took us forever to figure out that there was water in the fuel. It’s driving me insane that we can’t figure out how it’s getting there.”

I nodded slowly, understandingly, although I was more interested in how he got here. Twenty-one year old boys didn’t have converted warehouses for homes; they didn’t have a row of expensive race cars parked in the middle, and they definitely didn’t have it remodeled to look like this. Street racing had definitely been good to Travis.

“It’s fine,” I said, speaking up finally. “I’m just a overcoming a bit of culture shock, but it’s cool.”

Travis glanced behind him at the row of rooms that lined the outskirts of both floors. “Do you want a tour?”

“Sure,” I answered, trying to be as nonchalant as he was.

Travis took the bag of Chinese food from me and handed it to Benji, directing him to take it to the kitchen and fit it into the fridge. Benji set it on the hood of the car and turned back to Ryan, starting in on another conversation about stalling and freezing and not starting. I followed Travis back to the door we’d come in.

He pointed at the row of doors along the left wall. “Bathroom, bedroom, Benji’s bedroom,” he said, starting with the door closest to us and working down to the kitchen in the corner of the building.

I peered into the kitchen as we passed. It was huge, which was to be expected in this huge place. But it was modern, with stainless steel appliances, an island breakfast counter, and an oversized dining table in the far corner. As I looked it over, I couldn’t imagine Travis picking out appliances. Shopping for high-backed chairs and island stools.

“You can help yourself to the fridge whenever you want,” Travis said as we rounded the corner kitchen entryway and passed to a room that was walled in by glass. “If there’s something someone doesn’t want you to eat, they’ll put their name on it.”

He stopped and faced away from the glass room. We were tucked between the half wall and the glass wall. The shelving wall hid us from sight of Benji and Ryan, but I could still hear them arguing about the car. Benji’s tone was quick and excited, heated and eager. Ryan was much calmer, but firm, forceful. He quieted as Benji cut him off, correcting him, but he jumped back in as soon as Benji stopped for air.

“This is mostly storage for the car stuff,” Trav said, pointing into the darkened room. “There’s a couch and books and stuff in there though if you ever want to get away from them.” He grinned as he eyes darted in the direction of his friends. Then he walked backwards towards the entryway.

“The living room,” I guessed easily, peering into the large, open room. It was jam packed with couches, like the boys each needed one of their own. There was a small fire place on the right wall that looked unused and a large, flat tv mounted over the mantle. Two couches sat in front of it, tilted inwards. There was a large chair next to the far couch and a bookshelf filled with DVDs next to the fireplace.

On the left wall, the back of the room, was another couch. It was L-shaped and bigger than the other two. It was flanked by free standing lamps. Closer to us, to the entryway, there were another couple of oversized chairs like the one near the bookshelf. They looked almost as though they were tucked underneath the staircase. The stairs jutted up just outside the entryway to the living room.

Travis continued to them. They were practically free floating. There was no railing along the stairs to guarantee that he didn’t topple down the entire flight, but Travis practically danced up them, twisting around on the steps to make sure I was right behind him. I braced my left hand on the wall as I climbed to the second floor.

I was thankful for the railing that ran along the lofted hallway. From this height, I could see over the half-wall to Ryan and Benji. Ryan was leaning back against the wall, handing things to Benji, who had his head tucked under the hood but was still talking despite that fact.

Travis pointed to the first door at the top of the stairs. “Ry’s room, bedroom, bathroom,” he said, naming off the three doors that ran parallel to the railing.

“Whose room is that?” I asked, looking at the second door he’d named. Like the room downstairs, he’d simply called it a bedroom.

Trav shrugged. “Usually someone crashes here. It doesn’t technically belong to anyone.” He turned towards the railing as he caught part of Benji and Ryan’s conversation. “Uh uh,” he said quickly, leaning so far over the rail that my heart jumped into my throat. “You two aren’t taking that thing out until you take a look at my BMW.”

Benji stepped back a bit so that he could better see Travis. He made a point of scanning the room, the cars. “I don’t see it in here, Travis,” he said sharply, animatedly. “How are we supposed to look at it if it’s not here? Are we magicians?”

Travis rolled his eyes. “Get the Cayman out of here so I have somewhere to put it. That thing needs to be junked anyway. It’s a piece of shit.”

Benji looked personally insulted. I pressed my lips together hard to keep from grinning at the look on his face. His eyes narrowed at Travis and then at me as he caught me trying to stifle my laughter.

“It’s a Porsche, Travis,” he said, spitting the words out as though the boy closest to me has lost his mind.

Travis shrugged, unimpressed apparently. “It’s a Porsche Cayman,” he answered, “and that wouldn’t be so bad if Erick hadn’t completely trashed it before he lost it to you. Waging the Benz wasn’t even worth the slight risk that you could’ve lost it for that thing.”

Benji mimicked Travis’s words and I heard Ryan laugh before he reached out and shoved the other boy, warning him not to argue with Travis.

Annoyed by his friend, Travis turned his attention back to me. “He’s never going to learn,” he said, speaking loud enough that he knew Benji could here. “He jumps into races with beat up cars just because he knows he can win.”

I nodded easily. “He has a Mercedes-Benz?” I asked, following Travis down the hallway towards the last door, the one crooked into the corner. I peered at the window that looked out over the garage area of the warehouse, but still couldn’t see through the thick curtains. Although I could see now that they were more dark blue than black.

“I have a Mercedes-Benz,” Travis answered.

I glanced over the rail to the cars, scanning them.

“It’s parked at my dad’s right now,” Trav said, catching my look. “After Benji almost lost it, I had to put the car in time-out.” He glanced down too, catching Benji’s eye in a glare.

“What’s this room?” I asked, pulling Travis out of the staring contest before the room exploded around us.

“My room,” he answered. He opened the door and stepped inside. I stepped up behind him, looking out over the room. It was almost the same size as the kitchen with practically the same layout. The room was five walls, the fifth angled short to overlook the first floor, the entire thing just one oversized window hidden behind thick, floor to ceiling curtains.

There was a dresser and a bookshelf taking up most of the wall that the door was on. The bookshelf was dark and black and packed with different titles. The dresser was long and white and a twin to the one on the other side of the room.

There were chairs and a table on the left wall, just before Travis’s bed. The rug underneath was gorgeous and blue, accenting the curtains. There were three real windows in the wall and I got my first glimpse of Travis’s backyard through them. It was a field, patchy grass and nothing else.

The bed was large and pushed closer to the far wall on a platform frame. A nightstand sat on either side, holding up matching lamps. There was an ottoman at the end of the bed that matched the gray comforter. The second dresser was pressed against the far wall and housed a TV that was angled awkwardly towards the bed.

Strangest of all was that the bathroom was in Travis’s room. It was housed by its own walls and was a room of its own inside this one. Two walls jutted out from the corner of the room, but, like a lot of Travis’s house, were really just large windows. I could see directly into his bathroom from his bedroom. There was a tub, a large counter and sink, and a freestanding corner shower. The frosted-glass door was a joke about privacy in light of the windows.

I imagined that Travis’s friends didn’t usually hangout in his room, though, not when they had free rein of the suedo-playground downstairs.

I walked towards the desk that was pushed against the glass wall of the bathroom, tucked into the nook created by that wall and the angled glass window-wall that overlooked the cars downstairs.

“You got all this by racing cars?” I asked finally, spinning in a slow circle to Travis. He’d moved to the chairs across from his desk and sat down as though he was expecting a long conversation.

“I got all this and more,” he said, not joking in the least. “What I do is illegal, Cody, yes, but all of this is mine. It’s legally mine. Nobody can come in here and take any of this from me. Those cars - they’re in my name. I didn’t steal them, I won them.”

I sat down on the chair next to his. “But how did you get this?” I asked, motioning to this room, and the warehouse turned modern home.

“I win cars, I fix them up, and I sell them,” he said as though it were that simple.

I shook my head, pressing my fingers against my temples and sliding my hair back out of my face. “Who buys hundred-thousand dollar cars off of a twenty-one year old kid?”

“People are greedier than you think, Code,” Trav answered, no humor in his tone. “If they can get an Audi or a BMW legally for two-thirds the price, running as good as I can make them run, they don’t care who’s selling it to them.”