Racing for Freedom (9 page)

“I have to go to work.”

Then he turns and rushes out of the room. I sigh and sit on the bed, rolling the ball in my hands. What the hell are all these feelings and why the hell don’t I want them to leave?

“Order up!”

I spin and take the plate of food and slide it onto my arm, before rushing out and taking it to the correct table. Work is busy today, over the top busy. I have not stop running for the last two hours. I turn and there’s another order ready to be taken out and someone is shitty because they don’t like the food. Get over it. I rush around like a mad woman, clearing and serving, taking orders and politely smiling as customers complain. Customer is always right….yeah….right.

“Dash, another one.”
The chef calls from the kitchen.

“Coming Lyle.”

I rush over and take the next lot of plates, serving them quickly and then heading back to the counter to serve a woman, waiting by the register, with her foot tapping.

“How can I help you ma’am?”

“I have been waiting for ten minutes.”

“I’m so sorry, we’re short staffed today.”

“An efficient business would have back up.”

“The backup is sick,” I say, smiling.

Stupid old hag.

“Well, I’m disgusted with the
service, I’ll be going somewhere else.”

“I’m so sorry you feel that way, let me give you a free coffee before you leave. It’s the least I could do for being so slow.”

Her eyes widen and she stares at me, analyzing my expression to see if I’m serious or not. I smile sweetly and she finally cracks one back.

“That’s very kind of
you, perhaps I will scan the menu.”

“Then let me take you to a seat and get you started.”

I look back at the kitchen and Lyle is shaking his head and grinning at me. Yeah, that’s how it’s done! I finish up my shift and the lady leaves, extremely pleased. See, a little kindness and admitting one is wrong, goes a long way. I say goodbye to Lyle and take my keys, before leaving for the afternoon. Slade and I have another race this afternoon, so I have to go home quickly, before it starts.

When I get in, Slade is in the bedroom and I can hear Kandee giggling. Seriously, does the girl know how to do anything else but giggle like a little girl?
I thought I told Slade she wasn’t allowed over again, it’s nice to know he listens so well. I walk into my room and slip into the shower, at least I have hot water. When I get out, I realize my racing clothes are on the lounge ready to be folded. Great. I peer out the bedroom door and I can still hear Kandee giggling.

I rush out and dig through the clothes on the couch, tossing Slade’s jocks aside. I find my shirt and spin around, only to slam into a hard chest. I gasp and leap back, and my towel drops off me as my arms fly out to steady myself. Colour fills my cheeks as I realize the position I’m in. I’m half on the couch, supporting myself so I don’t fall, butt naked and Slade is staring down at me.

His eyes grow lusty as he slowly, yes, very slowly, takes me in. When he meets my eyes again, I’m scrambling to gather up my towel. Jesus, I can’t believe that just happened. Slade grins and reaches out to offer me his hand, but I slap it away. He opens his mouth to speak but I put my hand up quickly, oh no, we are not going to go over this one.

“Don’t you dare
speak.”

He smirks and shakes his head, putting his hands up. He opens his mouth again but I cut him off with an, “ah ah!”

His laugh fills my ears and I can’t help but smile. He leans down and takes his own racing shirt, then he gives me a grin so wide, it has me flushing again.

“Nice ass, Dashy,” he says, and then rushes off down the hall.

“Thanks,” I call out after him, and then add, “Oh and Slade? That girl better not be here for long!”

“Aye aye boss!”

“Dash, you need to be on your game today.” John says, as I slide into my car later that afternoon.

“I know John, I won’t stuff up again.”

“No, you won’t.”

I glare at him and he puts his hands up. “Don’t glare at me, I’m your manager and I’m doing the best I can to help you out.”

I sigh and force a smile. “I know John, thank you.”

“Ok, so remember to go easy on those corners. Stop worrying about beating Slade, instead, worry about getting a good time. It’s the time that counts because you need it to get into the state championships, and if you get a good score in that, you go to the top.”

I swallow and nod, staring out the front of my car. I can do this. John closes my door and I roar the engine to life in preparation for the warm up laps. When the lights flicker, I begin taking my car around the track in the normal warm up process. Slade’s car is in front of me, and he’s following his usual warm up routine too. I turn my eyes back to the track and focus on my race and my race alone.

When we’ve warmed the tires, I line up in my usual second spot. As always, Slade got better times than me. When the lights go off, I drop my clutch and lurch forward. The car grumbles angrily and I curse myself for letting that clutch go so quickly. I pick up my game and slide through the gears as I gain speed. I don’t even look at Slade’s car, I just focus on the road ahead of me. Nothing else matters but that road.

When the first corner approaches, I remember my father’s words and I lower my speed going into it, and pick up my speed going out. It works and I smoothly slide around the corner. Feeling adrenaline pump through my veins, I pick up my speed, determined. I pass the second and third corner with ease, and when I reach the fourth I slide around it beautifully. We’re only doing five laps today, and by the fifth I have the corners down perfectly.

One the last corner of the last lap, I focus all my attention on getting it right. I whizz around and sail out the other side with ease. When I see that finish line, I focus on nothing else. With all my will power, I keep my car in line, my hands tremble as I get closer and closer, knowing I’m the first car. Knowing I’m the winner. When I pass it, a squeal of excitement leaves my throat. I slow the car and come to a stop, and then I leap out.

Slade was over the line seconds after me, but it didn’t matter. I won, I won fair and square. Lucas is running towards me and with a scream I leap onto him, wrapping my legs around his waist and screaming happily. He cheers and laughs as he spins me around. When he lets me go, John takes me into his arms and whoops happily.

“Girl, you kicked ass!”

“I won!” I squeal.

I turn and look over at Slade, who is standing against the sidelines, being yelled at by Michael. I narrow my eyes and watch as Michael gets in his face, snarling and cursing. Slade looks…almost scared. His usual arrogance isn’t around and he’s nodding with his head lowered.

“Dash?”

I hear my name and turn back to Lucas and John with a smile.

“I’m so happy.”

“You did good kid,” John grins, patting me on the back. “Don’t forget the formal dinner on Saturday night.”

“I won’t, thanks John.”

He smiles at me once more. “Your dad would be proud.”

Then he leaves and I lose my smile. My first win and my dad
isn’t here to see it. I lower my eyes to the ground and Lucas grips my arms.

“He’s missing out, but I’m here and you did great.”

I smile and look up at him. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t we go to lunch and celebrate?”

“Sure, I’ll head home and get changed, and then I’ll meet you at Denny’s?”

“Sure.”

He hugs me once more and then leaves. I walk over to my car and lean against it, proud of what I’ve achieved.

“Don’t get used to it, Dasha.”

I turn when I hear Michael’s voice. Slade is standing behind him, staring at me but his expression isn’t awful or cunning, it’s full of pride.

“Can’t take it that your son lost to a girl?” I
say, standing and facing him.

“It was once, it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see.”

“Where’s your daddy, can’t even come to watch his daughter race?”

I swallow but stand my ground. “Your taunts won’t work, I’m not going to lose my game.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He walks off and I stare at Slade as he goes past. He stops and turns, looking at me over his shoulder.

“Good Race, Dashy.”

Then he follows his father off and leaves me standing with a warm, but broken heart.

“I won dad,” I say to my father that night, as I’m cooking him dinner.

“I’m so proud of you, Dash.” He says, more to the television than me.

“It wasn’t by much, but it was a win.”

“A win is a win, it doesn’t matter how close.”

I smile over at him as I chop the carrots for his stir fry. He looks worn, tired and not himself.

“You ok dad?”

“Sure, just tired.”

“You know, the final race is in a few months. I’d love if you could come and watch me.”

He forces a smile. “I’ll certainly try.”

“Will you?” I whisper.

He looks over at me and his face is broken. “I will.”

“Dad, I have no one else.”

“You have Lucas and John.”

“They’re not you.”

“I know Dash, I’m sorry.”

I nod, looking away. I continue cooking, silently. When I’m done, I serve him and sit, as he eats.

“Have you been eating dad?”

He shrugs. “Sure, mostly sandwiches, but I’ve been eating.”

“That’s not healthy dad.”

“I know, I’ll start cooking.”

“What about the drinking?”

He looks up at me sharply. “You said it wasn’t your problem anymore Dasha, so I believe that means it’s none of your business.”

I stare at him painfully. “Dad, that’s out of line.”

He sighs and rubs his head. “You know what? I’m not hungry. I might just go to bed. Thanks for the dinner and congratulations on your win, Dasha.”

Then he stands and leaves me alone. I’m hurt, truly hurt. I clean up and then leave. I take my time walking
home, my feelings are all over the place. I want to scream, cry and yell. I want to change things for him, to snap him out of this world he’s put himself into, but I don’t know how. When I get home, Slade and a bunch of guys are out the front drinking and making a lot of noise. Kandee is perched on Slade’s lap, stroking him in way I didn’t need to see.

“Dashy baby, you’re home.” Slade grins.

I glare at him. “Did you ask to have a party, Slade?”

“It’s not a
party, we’re celebrating your win.”

“Leave, all of you.”

“Aw, you said she was fun Slade. She’s nothing but a stiff.” One of Slade’s friends tease.

I storm over and kick him so hard in the chest his chair stumbles backwards and he lands on the concrete. He makes a loud oomphing sound and everyone goes silent.

“LEAVE!” I scream. “NOW!”

I turn and storm inside, and I hear Slade telling them all to leave. I hear Kandee whine, but he demands that she goes too. I run into my room, my rage boiling over. My own father doesn’t care what happens to me. He doesn’t care at all. Why do I bother racing? Why do I bother trying to save his name, when he doesn’t care about himself?

I grip the photo frame off the side table, it’s of me and him after my first race when I was sixteen. I smash it against the wall and I yank the photo out, slicing my finger on a bit of jagged glass. I tear the picture into pieces and scream profanities at it. My mother is gone, my father has lost it and I have no one to turn to anymore. No one to cheer me on. No one to be proud of me. Hot tears stream down my face as I struggle to tear the next bit of photo.

A set of arms go around me from behind and grip my hands. I tremble and tug, but he doesn’t move. I know who it is, I know those hands. He grips my wrist and shakes it, causing the photo to drop from my hands. I cry out and struggle against him, but he just holds me tightly, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding my wrist.

“Tearing that up isn’t going to make it better, Dashy.”

“He didn’t even come and watch me. He doesn’t care if I win or lose. I have no one, no one that’s proud of me!”

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers.

I sob loudly and he tightens his grip around my waist, pulling me back into his chest, until our bodies are molded together. My legs buckle and he slides down to the floor with me, never letting me go. He grips my sliced finger and he wraps his hand around it, holding it tightly to stop the thick flow of blood that’s now dripping onto my legs.

“He’s missing out, you’re a great racer Dashy. He’s the one missing out, not you.”

“He’s my dad,” I whimper. “He’s meant to be there Slade.”