Phoebe's POV
Harold never actually said those things—it was all Alan's scheme, thinking it might benefit everyone involved. The rest of them had no idea what they were getting themselves into and enjoyed needling me for entertainment. What they failed to recognize was that beneath my gentle exterior lurked the fierce spirit of racing legend Speed Queen Eden. At least Alan understood this much.
Speed Queen Eden reserved her genuine patience for the racetrack—but even then, testing her limits carried a price.
Tonight, some people were destined to face the music. With any luck, they'd pin the blame on Harold rather than me. If I ever lost my cool completely, others might not fare as well as Johnson had.
Alan drove us to a recently opened club that hadn't begun operations yet. The security guard at the entrance spotted Alan's license plate and hurried over to open our car door, offering his greetings.
"Has Harold shown up yet?" Alan asked casually, giving a slight nod.
