“You guys tight?” I asked, refolding my arms across my chest.
Timmy grinned. “Tight enough for me to know what he gets up to with that fancy-ass car his parents bought him. They didn’t even question why he wanted to modify it so bad.”
Bingo. “Tell him to call me,” I reiterated, as I opened my driver’s door.
“Will do, Rafael. Good to meet you, man.”
I gunned the engine, satisfied that Timmy would come through for me and mentally betting money on the assumption that I would hear from Linetti before the day was out.
* * *
“Hey.”
That one word made me snort into the phone, so I threw it back at him. “Hey.”
Linetti huffed. “You wanted me to ring? Look, if it’s about last night, then… thanks. You really saved my ass.”
“It’s nothing. You got your car back?”
“Yeah, I went back after the Police left. Thought it was gonna be impounded, but I guess I got double lucky. So what do you want?”
Fuck, he needed to chill. “What are you studying?”
Arlo snorted. “Do you really care?”
“Nup,” I deadpanned, while inspecting my fingernails.
“Bioengineering.”
“Fuck! Cool shit.”
“If you say so.”
The lack of passion in his voice spoke volumes and gave added weight to the importance of my offer.
“You heard of Colton Donavan?”
An impatient growl came through the phone. “Nope.”
“Look him up. Do it now while I’m talkin’ to you.”
Arlo huffed again. “This had better be going somewhere. I’ve got a shit-ton of study to catch up on tonight.”
I chuckled. “Oh, it’ll be worth your while.”
Arlo mumbled aloud as he skim-read about Colton. “He’s hot shit, huh?”
“We’ll if you ask him, he’s the hottest,” I drawled.
“Indy’s King,” Arlo mused.
Fuck, this was boring the hell out of me now.
“Here’s the deal, kid. My man Colt has set up a foundation for street racing youths who have potential to turn pro on the Indy circuit. Give back the opportunity he received as a teenager and all that shit.”
“And?” Arlo asked slowly. Suspiciously.
“I can put you in contact with him.”