Midnight Crew

By Kaylene Rose

Maritsa Mendez has always been a lighthearted and adventurous type of girl. Her first adventure was she was but four years old and was literally dragged across the border; she was chased by the border police and had to endure punishing days and nights running for her life. After arriving to the United States, she vowed that she would never be afraid of the night because no night could be scarier than those life-wrenching nights she had to endure. No, the night would be her bitch from then on out. She also vowed to protect her mother as her mother had protected her and her older brothers. As Maritsa grew up, she found herself being quite rambunctious and fell in love with Jessie Benningan almost six-and-a-half-foot tall, blue-eyed Adonis with PTSD. He was just her brand of drug. With their hobby of street racing with their group Midnight Crew, life was getting a bit dangerous; fights, shootings and close calls with the police were just the tip of the iceberg. And when another street racing crew shows up, bloody and bruised knuckles were the least of their concerns. But they were not the only trouble they had to deal with; Maritsa had also unwillingly acquired a psychotic stalker who kept her and everyone else on edge. Regardless of all the drama surrounding them, life was falling into place; but when a terrible accident happened and with Maritsa's stalker still on the loose, life as she knew it was about to crash and burn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781503520684

Kaylene Rose

Writing has always been a part of me; it just took me a while to realize this. I won second place in state when I was in seventh grade for an article about immigration and the effects that it has on families. Since then, I kept little notes and diaries of different life events—things I've seen and dreams I've had. What helps me write is my overactive imagination, my nightly dreams, and the way I can take experiences from, not just my life, but others. I am very perceptive to the world around me—how a single emotion can burn someone to the ground or lift them to new heights they never thought possible, how one moment to the next could be your first or your last. I have been working on my first book "Midnight Crew" for some time now; I want it to be as adventurous and wild as it has played out in my head. I have always loved to tell stories, and now I can share them. My family and friends are my greatest motivators and are already my biggest fans. I live in Colorado with my family. I have two daughters—Avaya, aged seven and Arianna aged four. We have a small dog named Moto, and I have a wonderful, supporting husband, James, who I have been married to for five years. I serve in the Colorado National Guard, and I am proud to serve my country and state.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Holy hell, I feel like I just got off a rollercoaster with death, I think to myself as I roll over in bed, my stomach going flip flop on me. The sun is shining too bright through the blinds, making my eyes sting. The stray ray of lights burning holes straight to the back of my skull were making my head pound like a jackhammer made itself at home in my frontal lobe.

I take a deep breath and hear my man, Jessie, stirring in bed next me. He is mumbling incoherently, his brows drawn tight; no doubt having another nightmare.

Damn, I think to myself as I sit up and gaze over at the other side of him and see my best friend Amanda lying there beautifully, naked. What a great night! Amanda is just over four inches taller than me—I am five foot one on a good day. She has dark brown eyes and shorter hair and smaller breasts than mine; otherwise, we can wear the same clothes and shoes, which comes in handy when we go out like we did last night. Amanda works in the same office as me as a certified medical assistant and is a straightforward I’m-going-to-tell-you-how-it-is type of person. Most people would say she is a bitch, but I differ to say. And she has a great right hook, I have seen her use it.

I decide I should get up and get the day started. I glance at the clock, and it’s about one in the afternoon. Crap. I need to get the afternoon started. I find one of Jessie’s shirts and don it over my naked body—it comes down to my knees and off my shoulder. He is, after all, six foot five, with piercing blue eyes with the tiniest brown dot in his left eye and dark brown hair and a hard body that is tatted up that I just love to worship … and occasionally share. Jessie has been in the army for a few years, so he stays in shape, although he says there is really no need to because there are a bunch of lazy fat asses in his unit. But he likes to be admired, which can cause some serious jealousy issues on some nights.

Jessie was deployed within the first year we met; it was the hardest year of my life …

I shake the thought and decide a nice hot shower would make me feel human again, so I head to the attached bathroom. The walls are still a little off kilter from my rollercoaster ride, but I manage without tripping over my own two feet. First things firsts: got to empty my bladder then brush my teeth because I feel like it’s a desert in my mouth … Fuuuuuck. I should not have had those last couple of shots of Tuaca bombs.

I turn the shower on, let it warm up, chuck the shirt, and hop in. Ooohhh, yes! This is nice. I stand there for a while, letting the hot water wash over my head and down my body for a couple minutes before I get to the cleaning part.

As I stand under the hot spray and wash off, I think about last night …

Amanda, Jessie, and I started the night cruising Academy Boulevard, with the T-top off and the windows down, feeling the cool breeze caress our skin and hair. As we cruised along, we laughed, talked, raced, and sang along with whatever lyrics came on the radio. We were high on life, enjoying every single moment as if it were our last. Because I mean, come on, how else are you supposed to live your life? No, really!

After a while, we ended up back home to get ready to head downtown to Club Eden, which Jessie does not do often because he hates the downtown/club scenario. He says it’s too much drama, especially if I get caught with my fake identification card—again.

Amanda and I were both wearing our little black dresses, with her hair done up in curls while mine hung loose, with curls down my back and over my shoulders, both of us wearing our FM shoes. We always turn heads, and Jessie always grins, knowing he will have one or both of us on nights like that.

The music was blaring, and people were getting their grind on to some Daddy Yankee. We were antsy to get out there and shake our asses as well. First stop, however, was at the bar where the trouble began. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Back to back.

Okay, let’s go do this! Heading to the dance floor, we left Jessie behind at the bar to drink his beer. The dance floor was packed with grinding, sweaty, hot bodies. We had to push our way through but found a spot for us to dance somewhere in the middle of the chaos.

Snoop Dogg’s Drop it Like It’s Hot came on, and we were certainly dropping it like it’s hot! It’s a wonder how we did it with FM shoes and alcohol in our system, but damn we did it good. At least we thought so, and apparently so did some males there. They watched us with hungry eyes, running their hands over their mouth and hair. However, when they attempted to dance with us, we pushed them away and danced with each other because we know the rhythm of our bodies and love to dance to it—also because Jessie is extremely possessive.

After a few songs and burning thighs, it was back to the bar and back to the Tuaca bombs. As we headed back to the bar, Jessie gave me one of his heart-stopping half smiles. His hooded eyes roamed over my body as he licked his lips. I bit my lip in excitement, perceptive of his thoughts.

When I approached Jessie, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a quick passionate kiss that made me want to take him right there and then on the bar stool. But we were in an extremely public place, and I saw that he had made some friends, so I backed off, looking over to find that they had decided to buy us shots. He’s so charming and is always quick to make new friends. I have no idea what the shot was, but it left my tongue feeling like it had hair on it … yuck! After that, it was a blur of more dancing, some making out—both on the dance floor and at the bar—with Amanda and Jessie. Then Amanda was pushing more shots my way then more bumping and grinding on the dance floor. Somehow we made it home, up the stairs … got naked and …

Hey, Maritsa, are you almost done in there? I’m startled out of my lusty reminiscences. It’s Amanda, and I can see her blurry naked body on the other side of the treated glass.

Yeah, I am just about done—just have to wash the conditioner out of my hair. Which takes a little while because my dark brown hair is almost to my ass. But I am just about done if you want to go ahead and hop in? She doesn’t hop in right away and decides to brush her teeth first, so I am hopping out as she is hopping in.

So how are you feeling this morning? I ask her as I wrap a towel around myself.

I am feeling great, except of course for the heartbeat in my head! I have to laugh at her because I know just how she feels.

So what’s on the agenda for tonight? Hopefully not drinking, otherwise I am not going anywhere around you tonight. You, my dear, are a bad influence, Amanda teases, pointing a shaking finger my way.

Ha! Me, the bad influence? Who’s the one that kept handing me all those Tuaca bombs? Because I certainly was not buying them, I scold her as I brush my long hair.

You sure weren’t complaining when you were shooting them back last night, were ya? She gives me a little evil laugh that makes me smile. So I flip her off. Hey! I kind of saw that! I laugh again.

I’ll meet you downstairs. I am going to attempt to make breakfast. I head back to my room and throw some sweats and a tank top on, throwing my wet hair back in a ponytail.

I make my way downstairs to the small kitchen and start a pot of coffee. As the coffee maker spurts out my coffee, I look into the fridge to see what I can scrounge up. Damn, I’m going to need to go grocery shopping soon. At least I have enough to make some breakfast burritos. I sigh, eying all the ingredients, wishing I had stuff for chocolate chip pancakes.

Well, gooooood morning, sunshine! I hear a cheery voice boom behind me.

I look over to find Scott a.k.a. Skeeter standing on the other end of the kitchen, arms crossed, with a big shit-eating grin on his face. Skeeter is about five foot nine and skinny. He’s not sickly skinny; he’s defined—he works in construction—and has dirty blond hair and blue eyes. And he is a big-time ladies’ man. He has so much swagger that he often persuades the police to let us loiter. Sure gets us out of a lot of loitering tickets, which I am very thankful for.

What? I ask him, flushing a little bit under his scrutinizing gaze. Not that I am embarrassed about what happened last night; it happens sometimes when we’re all feeling a little crazy and drunk, but I still blush when it comes to my sex life.

"Nothing. Just surprised to see you up so early after last night’s … activities." He grins and does the whole brow chika chika brow brow porn music, throwing his whole body into it, making me laugh.

If you want to eat this morning … er, afternoon, I suggest you shut the hell up and mind your own damn business, I scold, narrowing my eyes at him, trying to wipe the smile off my face and be serious.

He laughs some more at my expense and mumbles something about me needing to know when to shut the hell up and keeping the whole house awake. Smart ass! I glare at his back.

I get down to business and pop some bacon into the oven, shredding some cheese, beating some eggs, and warming some tortillas up. Before I know it, Amanda and Jessie are in the kitchen getting a cup of joe … and so is my brother, Luis. Oh, this just keeps getting better and better! I keep my head down and studiously focus on breakfast because I don’t want to deal with anyone else’s scrutinizing gaze.

They are distracted, however, discussing tonight’s plans—which include meeting spots, racing slots, and bidding ancillary—so that eases some of my tension.

The weekends are always crazy around here, and I am surprised to find Skeeter here and not at home with some slut. Guess he didn’t win any races? I swear, I can’t stand his groupies—my brother’s are even worse. Do they not have their own damn home? I look over at them, rolling my eyes. I need more coffee; I’m feeling a little bitchy.

By the time breakfast is finished and everything is cleaned up, it’s about three in the afternoon. During breakfast, Skeeter was informing Jessie on who was looking to race Jessie last night and who is betting on whom, what drama and fights we missed, and where we’re racing tonight. Skeeter kept making snide comments about us missing out on last night, but I can see why, while my brother just shook his head, trying to ignore Skeeter’s outrageous comments.

We sure waste our days away but keep the nights everlasting. We don’t have much of a care in the world when it comes to the weekends, and on the weekdays some of us have to work or else we could not afford our cruising gas or anything else for that matter.

Luis and Skeeter leave so that they can get showered and ready for tonight, which includes washing their cars and making them nice and shiny for the pretty little hookers to admire. Ugh. Before they take off, they give their gratitude for breakfast and for letting them crash here—as if we had a choice! Amanda just hangs around to get ready at my house for the night, which is basically tradition for the weekend.

I don’t feel up to par with getting ready yet and decide that I need to take a nap if I am going to make it through tonight’s shenanigans.

Chapter 2

The night is young and the breeze feels amazing as we cruise toward one of our meeting spots. I am refreshed from my nap and had some lunch, or was it considered dinner? I never eat or sleep well during the weekends. My mother always scolds me for it; when we visit, she calls me flaca (skinny girl) and brings me food sometimes, which I am not complaining about because I absolutely love my mother’s cooking.

We roll up to StarMart, and everyone glances our way. It’s kind of hard to ignore the roar of the 2001 Pontiac Trans Am. Oh, how I love her! Black, sleek, curvy, and fast with a ram air hood. It’s pretty much stock V8 … pretty much, except of course for the few modifications that make it zoom zoom a little or a lot faster.

Every once in a while, we’ll get some idiot in his little six-cylinder Honda Civic thinking he’s all The Fast and the Furious and wants to race us. Even with their upgrades and NOS, they have nothing on us … it’s kind of funny really, like taking money from a baby. Easy peasy, nice and sleazy.

We hop out and are greeted by at least twenty people … hmm? Guess it’s still early, not many people out yet. Cars are scattered throughout the parking lot, and I spot Luis and Skeeter standing near the back of the parking lot. They are already here talking to a couple of people from our crew, no doubt trying to set up more races.

Skeeter drives a red 1998 Honda Hatchback, and Luis drives a sleek navy blue 2000 Honda Accord. Yes, a lot of Hondas around here, but some of us—like Jessie, Kile, Zach, and Cory—drive muscle cars. Kile has a sexy ass silver 2002 Corvette, Zach has a yellow 2000 Mustang GTO, and Cory has a bitchin’ blue 1992 Camaro. Even John in his 1992 Acura NSX—even though it is not a muscle car, it is fast—none of them are stock engines by any means.

People like to watch our races the most, but we don’t race too often. We like to have worthy opponents or will race the occasional asshole that won’t STFU about how fast their car is. And in those cases, Jessie lets me get behind the wheel so that not only do they get beat but they got beat by a girl! Nothing gets guys’ panties more bunched up than losing to a girl.

I spot my girls on the other side of the parking lot, so I give Jessie a hot possessive kiss then saunter toward the girls, swaying my hips in my short shorts. I can feel Jessie’s eyes hot on me, which puts a good bounce to my step.

Amanda is next to her 1999 Subaru, chatting with Bree, Veronica, Beka, and Sabrah—ah yes, some of the very few females I get along with and that are not hookers or groupies.

Hey ladies, what’s new? I ask as I give each of them a hug and a kiss on the cheek, except for Amanda, who I peck on the lips.

Nothing new. Same hookers and crew, different night. We all laugh at Sabrah’s airy words because we all feel the same way about the groupies. Sabrah is a tall dirty blond-haired beauty with big hazel eyes. She has a smile that’s to die for and uses it against people’s better judgment.

I just hope it’s drama free. I don’t have the energy to beat anyone’s ass tonight, Amanda says in a tired voice while glancing at her manicured nails. We all glance at her, giving her a yeah right look.

Amanda, you always find the energy to slap a hoe. She rolls her eyes at me in a playful manner, which causes another roll of laughter.

So what’s up with your brother and Rosita? Beka asks, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Beka is a bitch, but I love her for it. She has black hair in a bob cut, with dark, almost black eyes. She’s a little on thicker side, but it suites her well.

Nothing, I hope! She’s too young and seems like a total fucking drama queen. I’ve seen you eyeballing her for a smackdown, Beka. I give her an approving smile and a wink.

I wish, but she’s like twelve or something? Beka states, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

We roar in laughter, causing everyone to glance our way. Of course she is not really twelve—more like barely eighteen—but still young compared to most of us. Rosita is fairly new to the crew, but nobody seems to like her skinny ass; or maybe it’s just me being overprotective of my brother? Who the hell knows? Either way, she’s too young for my brother.

Speaking of age, Veronica starts, a huge smile spreading across her beautiful face, your twenty-first is in two weeks, Maritsa! What’s the plan for your big two-one? Veronica is two years older than I and has been waiting for me to turn twenty-one so I can legally drink with her so she can stop being so paranoid about me getting caught faking twenty-one … again.

I’ve always looked a little older, so I was never questioned … except for that one time, at band camp, when I had to run/stumble out of the club so I wouldn’t get arrested.

Veronica is about my height but curvier. She has lots of tattoos and wears short spiky hair that she colors every two weeks, which she can do because she is a professional hairstylist after all; it’s black and purple this week. She has a look that says I am a mean bitch, but she is a total sweetheart.

I don’t know. Honestly, right now I don’t even want to think about partying or drinking after this morning’s hangover. I am pretty sure I was still drunk when I woke up this morning. I shudder at the thought.

You’ll get over it. You always do. I gawk at Beka and her curt words. What? You do. She says, shrugging her shoulders.

Okay, well, can we just not talk about it right now? The thought makes me a little queasy. I rub my stomach in circles, making them laugh at my expense.

Come on, baby! We’re going on a lap, Jessie yells across the parking lot.

I give the girls a nod and stride over to Jessie. He opens the door for me to slide in—who says chivalry is dead?—and once I am settled in, he hops in and roars the beast to life.

Before Jessie pops the Trans Am into gear, he stops to look me over. Buckle up, baby, he says, reaching over me to grab the seat belt, dragging it slowly over my lap, and skimming my legs with his warm fingers, sending a delicious shiver up my spine. He pauses in front of my face, never taking his mesmerizing blue eyes from mine, as he clicks my seat belt into place and hovers a breath away from my mouth. I think I have stopped breathing as his tantalizing scent and body heat slowly enveloped me, caressing me from the inside out. He leans in, his lips meeting mine in a soft sensual kiss, and everything around me ceases to exist. I open my mouth to invite his tongue in to deepen the kiss. I start panting and reach up to sink my fingers into his soft short hair. A moan escapes my mouth as he places his big warm hand high on my thigh, sending thrills of anticipation through me. My mind quickly fogged with thoughts of his body and mine entwined between the sheets, my body melding to his as my body sparks to life and explodes from rapture as he is the octane to my fire.

Hey! Get a room, you freaks. I break from the kiss, panting and glaring to my right to find Skeeter at my window, looking at us with raised brows, a slight smile curving at his mouth. I flush, and Jessie gives him an annoyed look.

All right, you cock block, we’re moving out, Jessie says, a bit annoyed, but then gives him a roguish grin, which makes me shake my head and smile at the two of them. They are, after all, best friends.

*****************

Ah yes, rolling down Academy Boulevard with the windows down and jamming to some Korn, getting pumped for the long night ahead that has endless possibilities.

Even though Jessie listens to mostly country, I am very thankful that he lets me play DJ. I love him all the more for putting up with me and my crazy-ass shenanigans and choice of music.

We’re cruising at an enjoyable pace, Jessie smoothly shifting through his gears like the well-oiled engine moving us along. As street lamps and stores pass us by, I watch as lights play over his handsome features: his face relaxed as he concentrates on the road ahead of him, his big shoulders tensing and releasing as he shifts and steers. Oh, man, I can watch him for hours as he smoothly drives us around, feeling the supple leather underneath me and the breeze caressing my skin like a lover.

I take my gaze away from Jessie to look back while we’re stopped at a red light to see that we are tailed by … well, shit, I don’t even know! There are so many cars I can’t even decipher its end. Wow. I know that some of these vehicles are part of the town’s normal 10:00 p.m. commute, but damn our crew has grown, and it makes me smile.

I just came on board when Midnight Crew had just started. There were not many people around, but we were like a snowball going downhill, accumulating and growing as we went along. Every once in a while, a chunk would fall off due to a rough spot or, in our case, some dumb ass would get kicked out for acting a fool. Kicking people out never ended well. People always want to rebel, and then they always end up like a bad painting, all black and blue with red splattered on them as an afterthought.

We don’t discriminate on who can and can’t be part of Midnight Crew, we don’t have mandatory meetings like the typical car clubs, and we don’t have fees. What we do have is a bunch of young, vibrant, fun people out cruising and trying to have a good time and stay out of trouble … sort of. Hey, we can’t help it when trouble comes our way. The only rules we do have is that you respect everyone, don’t start shit, pay for your own damn gas, keep up, and don’t rat us out to the police. Okay, so we have a few rules, but they are not written out and signed in blood. Still, they are spoken and