Quarter Mile Hearts(10)
But safe, nonetheless.
Chapter Four
The growl of the engines as the drivers rev them is music to my ears. The atmosphere is electric and the smell of gasoline fumes in the air makes me love this shit even more. Beth holds the ball cap high above her head and looks at each of the drivers, making sure they’re all ready. Each of them nods at her in turn.
Satisfied, she shouts, “Ready. Set. Go!” Beth drops her hand, signaling them to go, and they all shoot forward. Aaron, Max, and two other drivers I don’t know—Mustang, Subaru, Honda, and Evo. It’s all pretty even and then it looks like Max’s blue Subaru is inching forward slightly. People pile into their cars and drive behind the drivers to the finish line.
But I hang back and climb off Beth’s hood as she runs over.
“You coming?” she squeals as she slides behind the wheel.
“I’ll meet you there.” Her pretty smile slips, and she cocks her head in question but doesn’t push it.
“Okay.” The engine starts and her tires spin as she takes off, following the red taillights. Soon, I’m the only one left. The silence is deafening, without the noise of the engines and the music.
My bike stands all on its own and I pick up my helmet, slide it over my head then pull the visor down over my eyes. Throwing my leg over my Harley, I start the engine and take off down the quarter mile at a much slower pace. By the time I reach the finish line, the winner has taken the cash. Unsurprisingly, it was Max. Everyone then piles back into their cars to haul ass down to the local bar. I say the local bar, but The Three Monkeys is the only bar in town. Yeah, a visit there is sure to bring back a shitload of memories.
No one hangs around after a race. It’s mainly because they don’t want to tempt fate and get caught by old Fred, the sheriff and his sidekick, I mean deputy, Andy. They are wise to what goes on up here but sometimes they turn a blind eye, as long as things don’t get out of hand.
As I pull back on the throttle, the bike surges forward, and it is almost the same feeling in the pit of my stomach as I experience every time Max touches me. Almost, but not quite.
There is a hierarchy to the formation that they drive in. The race winner leads, then the second place driver, then third and so on. Then the race winner’s girlfriend or friends, then the second racer’s entourage, and so on. As I gain on them, I’m pretty sure that floozy one is in the car with Max, floozy two and three follow in the fifth car, a silver BMW, but wait. Beth has broken formation and has overtaken them, slipping into the gap they left. I can just hear her justification for that; she won’t let groupies in front of her.
I speed up the outside and no one seems to notice a bike gaining on them. I pass Beth and lift my hand as I whizz past, then I pass loser four and three, past Aaron, who, if I’m not mistaken, flips me off. And then I draw level with Max and floozy number one. It is an effort to keep my eyes on the road and not swerve into the side of them. Her blond head is tucked into his neck and his arm is slung over her shoulder. The other hand rests on the steering wheel as he slouches down his low-slung seat.
Twisting on the throttle, my speed increases, and I pull in front of him. In my mirror, I catch a look of surprise register on his face and he sits up a little straighter, bringing both hands to grip the steering wheel. I hear the increase of power behind me when he presses down on the accelerator. Piece of cake. I accelerate, too, and keep the distance between us. Behind me, Max shifts down a gear, and I hear the growl of his engine being pushed harder. Checking the mirror, I see him trying to pull out from behind me this time. I wonder if floozy one has peed her pants yet.
This is child’s play. I move over and let him pull alongside me; it’s more entertaining this way. He is pushing the car as hard as he did in the race. The other drivers fade in the distance behind us as we race along the dark, empty roads. We’ve not reached the town limits yet, and I wonder if he’ll slow down when we do. I pull back in front of him and hear him push all the Subaru’s horsepower as he tries to close the gap.
Sliding further back in my seat, I lean lower over the handlebars, pushing the bike harder and faster than I ever have before. The lights of the town limits come into view, and I feel another thrill of excitement. For the first time in a long time, I feel alive, and I’m kidding myself by saying it’s just because I’m back home. It’s not; it’s a culmination of everything. Something must be lacking in my life if this is how I get my kicks.
By the sounds of it, Max has eased off the accelerator and a quick check over my shoulder confirms it. I twist on my right hand. The bike responds immediately with a growl and leaps forward. After a few seconds, I check my mirror again and the Subaru is right behind me and gaining fast. As I thought, Max never backs down from a challenge, no matter how stupid.