Gone in 60 Seconds by M. C. Bolin

Author:M. C. Bolin [Bolin, M. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Automobile Theft, Fiction, Brothers, General, Action & Adventure, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9780786889891
Google: vU03LK0Z-WYC
Amazon: 0786889896
Barnesnoble: 0786889896
Goodreads: 1853554
Publisher: Hyperion
Published: 2000-05-31T18:30:00+00:00

Back at Kip's house, he and Memphis sat at the kitchen table over a supper of Italian takeout. The TV was on and Kip watched

while Memphis flipped through pages of an old photo album, looking at shots of them as kids. He stopped at a picture of their dad, Sam Raines, standing before a Cutlass 442, outside the Raines Olds dealership.

"I wonder what things would be like if Dad hadn't died," Memphis said, thinking out loud. "We'd probably be working selling cars together."

Kip ignored him, watching the tube.

"Remember when Dad used to bring a different car home every night from the dealership? You remember that?"

Kip glanced at him and then turned his eyes back to the TV. "I was six," he reminded Memphis.

"You know, besides just being able to talk to him, I think that's what I missed most about Dad. No different cars every night."

Kip got up, completely unmoved. He stopped at the screen door long enough to give Memphis his take on it all: "Ancient history is two things. Ancient and history."

And then he left. The screen door slammed behind him.

Kip stalked out of the house and across the porch, where there was a view of the harbor, the lights flickering.

Memphis joined him at the porch rail, leaned on it. "What's the matter with you?"

Kip glared at him. "What? You expect me to work nine to five? This is all I know. You make me laugh. You sure didn't mind the easy money."

"I didn't do it for the money, Kip," Memphis defended himself. "I did it for the cars."

"Do you really believe that," Kip demanded, "or do you just not remember?"

"You know what I remember?" Memphis gazed out at the view as he spoke. "I remember Corvettes. All sex and attitude, gleaming by the side of the road. Marina blue, sunfire yellow, marl-boro maroon . . . just sitting there, waiting-begging—to be plucked. And I'd do it. I'd boost one and just blast to Palm Springs—instantly feeling better about being me. Like I'd become something else. But you know what? Next day, seems like, cops are coming by, I'm getting shot at, two of my friends die, Atley can barely walk. That's what I remember. Eventually, it all closes in."

Kip was disgusted. "Don't feel the need to give me any brotherly advice. Frankly, for you to have the audacity to bring Dad up—I don't even know you anymore. You're not my brother. I've got my own family."

Memphis made a fist but checked swinging it. "Well, when you hit the wall, the same thing is gonna happen. You and your 'family' are either going to get shot or get a five-year-jolt at Corcoran, Level Four."

Kip looked bored. "You know, you're a hypocrite. And I ain't riding with you tomorrow night. I ride with Tumbler. Always have. That's not changing."

Memphis could only stare at Kip for a moment. "Fine," he said. "Ride with Tumbler. I don't even know if we're gonna make it tomorrow night. Might both hit the wall—but I'm still gonna lay it on the line for you.

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