Drift (Drift Series) (4 page)

His
cocky mouth pierced through my being like an arctic wind, igniting a flame within me. Knowing what I am, and what I’m capable of, I really needed to stay silent. The last thing I needed was my own ego throwing a monkey wrench in the program I worked so hard putting into motion. I did my best to ignore him, but he kept pushing.

“He should have painted that piece of crap fl
uorescent pink to match the color of his panties. Neither him nor his car want a piece of me and mine, baby!”

The crowd encouraged him with the sounds of sporadic laughter.

Like I said, I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help myself. No way was Darryl Kite gonna run his mouth at my expense. The fire in my stomach burned into my throat and I turned around to acknowledge him and his belittling crowd behind me.

It was confirmed when I turned to face him that he was indeed talking about me and my car. Darryl and his followers were staring me down. Darryl sported his ever-confident smirk. I was eager to wipe it of
f his ugly grill, so, playing to his emotional weakness, I retaliated.

“Those are pretty tough words. Too bad they don’t hold water
, considering we just watched you get punked out from your
ex
-lady. You might wanna keep your mouth shut; you’ve already lost one fight tonight. No need to embarrass yourself any further.” I returned a confident smirk.

His expression went from boastful and confident to enraged and furious at the snap of a finger. It was apparent his rabble didn’t expect me to stand up to their great and wonderful leade
r. They looked at him, waiting to see how he would respond. He forcefully stood straight up from the car he was leaning on. “Don’t let your alligator mouth overload your hummingbird ass…boy.” He strutted towards me.

Before I knew it, he
pushed Scruffy aside so he could get right in my face. He barely gave me enough space between his frame and mine so I could stand up from the hood of my car. I met him face to face, nose to nose. “You talk too much. I’m sick of hearing your mouth.”

“Why don’t you shut it for me, little man
? Make your move.”

Everything in me was boiling. I wanted to rip his face off. It was important that I kept my cool though, but at the same time I needed to answer his challenge, so I fed the enflamed situation and took another shot at his pride.

“I’ll tell you what—why don’t you exercise that car of yours the way it was meant to be exercised instead of just driving it around for all of your little girlfriends to enjoy—” I pointed to his buddies standing around smirking, causing them to hiss in disagreement. “—after I beat your butt, maybe you and I get together and talk about part two of your offer. Just be ready for the same results. Sound good to you…brotha?” I moved closer into his face and touched the tip of my nose to his.

My eyes must have displayed a secret about my true nature, which sometimes happens when I get a little worked up, because his expression went from anger to bewilderment before changing back to cocky as he backed away and threw his arms up.

“So, you wanna challenge me, huh? My ride against yours?”

I nodded.

I broke from our flexing of testosterone and was suddenly aware, much like earlier, all the attention around BNB’s was fixated in one spot again, on us two Alpha Males, and Darryl was playing it up for our audience. I returned the favor and raised my voice a little.

“Well, if you can stand to leave your girlfriends here for a second so you can strap on a pair big enough to race me, then yeah, my ride against yours.
Not for slips, for bragging rights.” I cracked a half smile.

He
backed further away, grinning, still trying to look as if he was in control.

“The top of River Road, ten minutes
. Be there and we’ll see who has the set around here, boy.”

I nodded once more.

He was sizing me up, but I could tell he wasn’t sure what to think about my boldness. Far as I know, no one has ever stood up to him this way. Whatever the reason, his cage definitely looked as if I rattled it.

Sounds of shouts and clapping hands surrounded the venue in anticipation of our race, the renewed excitement of something out of the ordinary caused people to scatter back to their cars so they could get to the starting point of the race
first. I kept my glare on my foe until he climbed back into his Camaro with his cronies. He never took his eyes off me, either.

BNB’s emptied out fast. I shot a look over to where Shade and company were still
sitting in their convertible. The whole carload was glaring at me hard as they backed out of their spot. Shade was the only one wearing a small crooked smile. I smiled back at her.

“Leo, are you out of your mind
? River Road, man?” Scruffy voiced great concern as we jumped into my Mustang. I started the car. “C’mon, Scruff, isn’t it you that’s always looking for action? Now you have some for tonight and you’re complaining? Don’t worry, I got this.” I screeched my tires out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, well, just don’t put a dent in my ride.”

“You mean this piece of crap? You got it.” I laughed with him.

“Seriously though, Leo, you shouldn’t risk your life for a race, man. Just be careful, we all know how dangerous River Road is. It certainly isn’t going to be any safer with you racing at high speeds against a lunatic.”

He was very serious. I turned to him, doing my best to help him relax. “Scruff, no worries. I told you, I got this, bud.”

“Yeah.” He
exhaled while glancing out of the window. He rubbed his hands along his legs like he was wiping off nervous sweat.

I was quite confident though, despite Scruff’s
understandable reluctance. If he only knew. Risk my life? There’s nothing to risk.

CHAPTER 4

OVERCOME

We
followed the parade of cars that piled out of BNB’s and approached Miller’s Hill looming over the outskirts of town. It was the location of River Road, the most dangerous, winding road in Mountainside.

If one were to see Miller’s Hill from an aerial view, which is an angle I have actually seen it from,
one would notice that River Road wraps three times around Miller’s Hill like a corkscrew and then gives way to a one mile straightaway that takes you into town at the bottom. The road contains steep, sharp curves and a few dips that make a speeding vehicle jump a few feet off the ground if it’s moving fast enough. It’s about four miles of nothing but terrifying turns, not to mention there aren’t any guardrails to keep you from rolling down the side of the hill through the thick trees. The only reprieve a potential racer might get is the one straightaway at the very bottom. This is where the highest speeds are reached and it’s the last chance for a lagging racer to exercise his or her car enough to win a race.

River Road has been the final stop for a couple of area teenagers in the past, and the root cause of a handful of parents
’ skyrocketing insurance premiums. There are still a handful of car parts scattered around the road to this day. There has been a city ordinance in place that prohibits anyone from loitering around Miller’s Hill or going up to the old water tower at the top. It is especially frowned upon to go inside the fenced area that surrounds the tower. But the signs plastered all over the hill still don’t stop the occasional mischief or teenage hormone exchange that takes place up there. This is why police patrol River Road with great frequency, which is another risk involved in racing in the area.

The tower is the
biggest landmark on Miller’s Hill. It’s a large, rusted, abandoned water tower that sits like a gothic-church-cherry on the top of a Miller’s Hill sundae. Adding to the mystique is a few rusting office buildings resting around the base of the large tower that was used by the employees when the tower was in use. Now that it has been abandoned, it’s rumored that suspicious activity happens at the tower, not necessarily referring to teenage relations, more that it’s haunted or something. It’s the darkest point of the hill, almost like it’s hidden in a dark veil of shadow. The people in town say it gives them an ominous feeling every time they look up at it, especially at night. Regardless of the eeriness, the water tower at the top is the starting point for all the street races with the ending point being at the four way stop at the end of the mile stretch at the bottom.

It
’s easy to see why Scruffy was feeling so nervous for me. He never stopped squiggling around in my passenger seat the entire ride there. I, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned at all and kept the conversation positive and upbeat in an effort to lower his growing anxiety. We both knew Darryl was no angel. If it meant pushing me off that hill to win the race, there was no doubt in our minds that he would do it.

I was really taking a chance of derailing the order of things by racing Darryl. If something were to happen to him, I would be held responsible and would be punished greatly for it. Christian would show me no mercy. I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I was sick and tired of Darryl’s power tripping. Either way, it was too late now. I had to be careful
to make sure nothing went off course as a result of my actions.

“Well, here we are, Leo. No turning back now.” Scruffy’s voice held a small hint of despair.

We had arrived at the top of Miller’s Hill, in front of the main gate that was halfway unhinged at the entrance to the water tower. This was the race’s starting point. Most people decided to park at the finish line, but a few followed tradition and were parked in a semi-circle with their headlights on. In an ironic twist, a thick fog was settling around the area. The car lights cut through it like bright cylinders of light. In the middle of the well-lit circle stood Darryl, alone in front of his Camaro, his body in silhouette.

I pulled my car next to his, facing downhill. Scruffy jumped out. I followed promptly so we could find out what the next move was. I approached Darryl and another guy standing near him. I admit to trying to see if Shade was here too, but it was too hard to see with all the lights in my face. I hoped she had come and was at least waiting at the end. I guess I would find out when I got there.

We met with Darryl, front and center between our vehicles. One of the bystanders, another friend of Darryl’s, walked up and started reciting some rules.

“I’m holding a quarter. Darryl, since you arrived
at the hill first, you get to call the toss. You want heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

“Darryl, if it lands on tails, you’ll get to choose whether you want the inside or outside lane at the start of the race. At any point you can be overtaken and lose your lane spot. The driver that blows through the stop sign at the bottom of the hill first is the winner. Everything else goes, those are your only rules…good luck boys.” He grinned as he leaned in to show us both that it was indeed a heads and tails quarter.

It is very important to be the person who chooses his lane.
Everyone knew the inside lane was the fastest, and in this case, it was also the safest. It was against the hillside and not exposed to the dangerous, unguarded cliffs. Even though being on the inside didn’t assure someone they would be the fastest or the safest, it sure felt better knowing you had that lane.

Everyone was out of their cars and gathered in a circle behind us trying to get
a view of the quarter toss. There was some murmuring going on in anticipation of the results. Darryl and I locked eyes as if we were the only two there.

The quarter chimed off the bearer’s thumb as it
spun end over end into the air directly between us. Neither of us removed our glare off the other as the coin cut through the dense night fog that surrounded us like a misty blanket. It felt as if the money hung in limbo, like time had slowed the moment it reached its highest point in its rotation before coming back down. Darryl and I never strayed from our determined stare, even when the flipping object passed through our field of vision.

We heard a flop, followed by a smack. Darryl and I looked down to view the results of the toss.

“It’s tails!” he announced.

Darryl never changed his stern expression, not even to gloat at his winning the toss, something he did every chance he got.

The crowd ran back to their vehicles to leave for the end point of the race, hooting and yelling every step of the way. Scruffy grabbed my shoulders to let me know he was catching a ride down the hill with someone else.

“Be safe, homeboy. I’ll see you at the bottom. Kick his butt hard for me, Leo.” He whispered the message in my ear so Darryl wouldn’t hear.

“I told you, Scruff, I got this. I’ll pick you up at the bottom.”

Scruffy looked at me as if it was going to be the last time he saw me, so I gave him a thumbs up to help keep him positive. Everyone zoomed by us in their efforts to get the best available viewing spot left at the bottom. Only myself, Darryl, his coin-tossing buddy, and our three vehicles, remained in the cloud of dust left behind from the fleeing cars, adding more denseness to the gathering fog.

Everything grew deathly quiet as the sounds of the departing engines hummed to silence into the night. Only the sound of gravel crunching under Darryl’s friend’s feet echoed around the hilltop. He was taking off his shirt so he could wave it like a flag, the signal for us to start racing. The time had come to man up.

“Maybe…I
’ll see you at the bottom, hero,” Darryl said.

“Yeah, I
’ll be waiting for your arrival.”

“To your cars
, boys!” called our shirtless referee.

We unlocked our glares and entered our cars. The roars of our engines blew up the dark in an earth-shaking rumble. We revved them a few intimidating times before resting them at idle.

Darryl felt the need to get in the last word before we began, not unusual for him. I guess he thought he was going to get some psychological edge. He shouted a final message through our open windows.

“Hey
, hero, I’ am in this to win this. If you
accidentally
fall off the hill, I’m not stopping for ya. You’re on your own. Good luck, boy.” He smirked as he raised one eyebrow, suggesting that I could look on his words as prophecy.

I nodded in acknowledgement and didn’t say a word. Without changing my look of determination, I pointed one finger forward
while still gripping the top of my steering wheel, telling him non-verbally to shut up and get ready. He faced forward with the mischievous grin still on his face and revved his engine another couple of times.

Then, the slow strut of Darryl’s friend stepped between our vibrating cars. He stood with his legs spread facing us, his left hand was straight in the air, gripping his T-shirt. “When I wave this shirt towards the ground—take off!”

He glanced at both of us and we nodded that we were ready to go. I took one last look at Darryl. Both his hands gripped his steering wheel, white knuckle tight, as he exhaled and gritted his teeth. I’m sure the nerves rolling around in his stomach had reached his rapidly beating heart. It was almost as if he was gassing up his engine to the rhythm of each heartbeat that thundered throughout his soul. He was scared. I could smell his fear. On the other hand, I was steady and ready.

“GO!” His friend waved the shirt towards the ground. The race was underway.

Both cars’ tires squealed in sweet release as we twisted by the shirtless dude. We kicked up a solid fin of gravel as our tires screeched to grab hard pavement. I was certain that a few rocks had to have hit our shirtless flag bearer when we took off, but I couldn’t care less about that now. Darryl was on the inside and pulling away pretty fast. I moved behind him in an effort to stay on his bumper. It was safer being behind him for now.

I was riding so close to his bumper that his taillights seemed to be resting on the hood of my Mustang. For now my strategy was to stay behind him, keep
ing my foggy headlights blinding him in his rear view mirror as we headed into the first sharp curve.

His red brake lights lit up and his engine shifted down as he slowed into the first curve. I swayed from side to side to let him know I was looming ever present in his rear. I was confident that my intimidation tactics were working. No matter how much he tried, no matter what tactics he used to get away, I wanted him to know he couldn’t escape. When it was time to make my move, I would, no matter what he did to try
and stop me. I bumped him from behind to intimidate him further. I had no regard for any car damage. For me, it was all about bullying the bully.

His Camaro wiggled back and forth, the result of my love-tap. I looked up to see him flip me off between his two front seats. I guess he was a little angry that I might be scuffing up his little baby. It didn’t matter; his mommy and daddy would get it fixed for him.

We came out of the first sharp turn. Our engines roared as we increased speed. Before we could properly prepare for the next turn, the first of the couple dips in the road made their presence known.

First Darryl dropped with a spark-filled bang and then quickly jumped into the air and floated a few feet. The tires braced the impact of his landing, his head bobbled around in the car. More sparks flew as
a result of the impact on asphalt. He squiggled around, struggling to maintain control.

It was my turn now. I felt the rapid drop, my stomach felt as if it had hit the floorboard. Then I felt a large wham as my car hit
the pavement right before I was airborne. The world stood still as I looked down at Darryl’s fleeing Camaro while I sat helpless in mid-air. Then,
kaboom
! My Mustang hit the road and fishtailed for a moment as the tires struggled to find traction.

We had survived one of the dips in the road but had little time to recover as we rocketed towards the next sharpest point in the second turn.

I love the feeling of a car drifting. It’s like a constant slide sideways around really tight corners. A driver must consistently keep turning into a slide in hope of maintaining an angle. In this case, a necessary move for me to avoid sliding off the cliff. Once the road straightens out a little, I needed to gently pull out of the skid and turn forward, which was easier said than done.

We slid around the turn as the back ends of our cars tried to swing us both off the hill. Darryl drifted a little too wide, allowing me to almost take the inside lane, but just before I could make my move, the corner shortened and we straightened out. The driver’s side of his Camaro banged into the passenger side of my Stang. I jammed on the brakes and pulled back behind him. Again, I was staring into his brake lights as he regained control of his ride.

We had a little drive time before the third and final turn on the hill, which was also the longest turn. I wanted to mess with him a bit, show him what I could really do. Like a slingshot, I flew around him, taking the inside position by force, but I wasn’t on the roadway. I was driving at an angle against the side of the hill to his inside, almost passing him. My passenger side window was almost at a ninety-degree angle next to his driver side window. I could pass him at any moment I chose to do so. I knew this maneuver would really get inside his head. I even looked at him to see if he was looking at my showing off. He was, his eyes darted from me to the road and back again, mystified at my bouncing car riding along the hill next to him.