One For The Road - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

In any type of entertainment, there was always one cycle that never ended: prepare, perform, and do it all again from the top. Winners or losers, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the next fight.
Back in the garage in London, Ontario, we had to regroup with what little we had. At Team Sacrilege, all we had were scraps of what used to be and dead dreams.
Was it my fault? At the end of the day, the controller was only in my hands, but how could anyone expect me to upset the well-oiled killing machine of Team Amazon? I was just a washed-up racer from Ohio, and I was dressed the part. It was a sweatpants and hoodie kind of day.
Both Drake and Josiah had their work cut out for them on the robot; there really wasn't much left of it at all. There wasn't a damn thing that I could do to help them out, but I could probably learn a thing or two from watching them.
"This thing is fucked. We just need to rebuild completely," Josiah said. "Thanks, Katie."
I took in a breath. "I'll fucking end you like I killed Sacrilege."
"That's where I'm at too. That fire killed the motor, and there isn't anything we can do about it," Drake said.
For a second, I thought Drake was down to kill Josiah too, but apparently not. Sad.
Half of the time I wasn't sure if I just didn't care for Josiah because he had Annie practically locked up without a ring, or if it was because he was a douche. But the other half of the time, I knew it was because he was, in fact, a douche.
"Well, what kind of back-up parts do you guys have?" I asked.
"We don't have an entire spare robot, that's for fucking sure," Josiah said.
And although neither one of them said it, they also didn't have the money to rebuild. I wasn't stupid.
In any business, money was always an issue, but there had to be something that I could do to fix it. I was the one who got the robot torn to shreds, and even though I preferred to spend my earnings on booze and status, I couldn't just watch my teammates suffer.
"What about the Corvette?" I asked.
"We've taken just about everything we can from it," Drake said.
"Oh." I looked over to that sexy car, and although the red paint chipped away, it had more character than modern sports cars (which I loved in a different way; the horsepower and speed were exhilarating). "So it was your dad's, Drake?"
He nodded. "Yep. He left me with just about everything I could have ever wanted, and here I am, twenty-nine years old with just about nothing left."
"Well, you're living the dream, aren't you?"
Drake chuckled. "More like living the nightmare."
"Would you ever think about selling what's left of it? It looks like it's in good shape otherwise."
Drake stared at me for a moment.
"I mean, you said that the car doesn't mean anything to you, but don't you think it should go to someone who'll love it like it should be loved?" I asked.
"I guess," he said.
"Then sell it to me. It's the sexiest damn thing I've ever seen, and I've always wanted an older car. What year is this, a seventy-eight?"
"I don't really remember, and I sure don't want your charity, Katie."
It was a little bit of charity, but I shook my head. "It's not charity. I don't really give a shit about this team, remember?" I looked over at Josiah, who smiled and nodded. "And besides, I've wanted this car since I first laid eyes on it."
"I don't even know what it's worth, to be honest. It's just a shell, and it needs so much work just to get back on the road again," Drake said.
"And I can get it there. I may have wandered into Big Hero 6, but we all know I'm still Lightning McQueen at heart."
"Can we just skip to the end of the movie where you learn that life in the fast lane isn't all it's cracked up to be?" Josiah asked.
"Sure, if we also get to the point where you learn that personal victories sometimes count more than championships," I said.
He didn't reply to that, and I smiled.
"So do you have the title for the car?" I asked.
Drake shook his head.
Well, that killed the value faster than Amazon killed Sacrilege.
I wasn't smart by anyone's standards, but like Drake told me, we were a team, and I needed to act like it. If I had to overpay for a frame of a car just so we could live to fight another day, then that was what I had to do.
"Okay, that hurts the value a little, but ultimately, it's not that big of a deal. What's important is the name. There ain't a more iconic car out there than this," I said.
"Seriously, Katie, I don't want—" Drake began, but I cut him off.
"I want the fucking car. I'll love it, treasure it, sleep in it. You can either take the money for it or not. I don't give a shit. I just want the car since you're disrespecting the hell out of it."
"Just take the fucking money, dude," Josiah said.
Drake thought for a moment.
"It needs someone like me. Now how much do you want for it?" I asked.
"I don't even know how much it's worth. There's no engine for God's sake," Drake said.
"I'll give you ten thousand US dollars for it. I don't know what that is in Canadian dollars, but we can look that up," I said.
Drake crossed his arms. "Is that really what it's worth, or are you just—"
"Drake, she's an asshole. She's probably cheating you," Josiah interrupted.
"Consider it a discount for a friend," I said, and hopefully, both of them would just take my word for it. That car wasn't worth anywhere near ten thousand dollars, but they weren't just going to take money from me. I held out my hand. "Ten thousand American dollars for the Corvette. Deal?"
"You got yourself a deal." Drake took my hand. "And please tell me that you're not actually going to sleep in the car."
"I might. Oh my god, it's so beautiful." I walked over to my new pride and joy. "Holy shit. Does it have a name?"
"Nah. The only thing my dad ever called it was don't you dare touch that, Drake, or I'll cut your damn hands off," Drake said.
I laughed. "I like that. Do you care if I keep that name?"
Before Drake could respond, Annie poked her head through the door from the house. "Katie, could I take just a few minutes of your time?"
"Sure," I said. "What's up?"
"It's just bothering me that those damn t-shirts aren't lucky like we thought they were. We need to step up our game, and I just need a few measurements from you, so I can make your new costume," Annie said.
"We decided that we weren't going to do that, Annie. We don't need to look like a bunch of fucking ragamuffins," Josiah said.
Annie crossed her arms. "Well, the t-shirts didn't work, did they?"
Drake put his hand on Josiah's shoulder. "Just let her do it. She wants to help."
"Right, let's just waste our time and resources on costumes. Good idea," Josiah said.
I crossed my arms. "Well, I think I'll look hot as hell in whatever Annie designs for us. It wouldn't kill you guys to have a good time with this. Living the dream turns into living the nightmare the second you get away from what you love about everything."
I knew all about that, too. Racing was my passion up until Roger Truscott ruined it for me. Then it was just a job.
I followed Annie back into the house and into her bedroom. Although the room was pretty big, there wasn't much space for walking in there. Half-dressed mannequins and art supplies spilled over the desk and onto the floor, where paint spots stained the carpet.
"I'm so sorry for the mess. I just finished the design, and I got so excited that I didn't even bother to clean up in here," Annie said.
"Don't worry about it. Let me see what you thought up," I said.
Annie unfurled a sheet of paper onto the desk, and she looked over to me. "So, I got a little inspiration from your fire suit in NASCAR since it's how people know you. I changed the color scheme to match Sacrilege, and unfortunately, this isn't fireproof, so you better not set the robot on fire again."
The sketch looked vaguely like me in shape (medium height, nice ass, no boobs), and she was dressed in a red and black fire suit with a white and black checkered belt around the waist.
"This is amazing, Annie," I said. "I can't—I fucking love this so much. Oh my god, I'm gonna be so hot."
Annie laughed. "I'm glad you like it. Drake and Josiah's are pretty much the same thing, but everyone has their last name on the back."
She stacked the other two on top of mine, and Drake and Josiah's looked just like mine, but with different names, of course. Moore, Wormley, and Hall.
"What about one for yourself?" I asked.
Annie grabbed a measuring tape and swatted the air. "Oh, I don't usually go with them to their tournaments. I just went last time because it was Josiah and my anniversary, and I thought Spain would be romantic. Thought he might even propose."
"Oh," I said. He had no intention of that for the time being. "Well, maybe he was going to until I ruined it."
"Doesn't matter anyway. He loves me whether we're engaged or not, right?" She laughed again.
I wasn't so sure about that, but I smiled anyway. "Who wouldn't love you?"
Griffin never wanted to talk about lifelong commitments. Mostly we just talked about our temporary comforts, and I had no idea how to navigate more permanent conversations. But that seemed like a better answer than, he won't marry you, but I would, and I'm way hotter than him. But if she liked women, she probably would have left his sorry ass for me by now.
"Okay, so I just need to get a few measurements. Could you take off your hoodie?" Annie said.
Perfect. I didn't even bother to wear a shirt underneath it that morning, and it would have been just tragic if she had to touch me.
I took off the hoodie, and before I could even fake an apology about only wearing a sports bra, she had the tape measure pressed up against my skin.
"I didn't realize you have so many tattoos," Annie said.
"Yeah, as soon as you get one, you need another. It's just as addictive as they say." I smiled.
"Hm." Annie wrote down a few numbers next to the sketch of me. "Do they mean something, or did you just get them because they look cool?"
"A little bit of both. The key on my wrist reminds me that I can get into whatever locked door life hands me, the compass on my ankle is to keep me going in the right direction, I got drunk one time with Griffin and we both got roses, so I guess that one means friendship to me, and I have a number twenty on my right wrist."
"What's that one for?"
"I was driving the twenty car when I won my championship, right before I signed with Roger Truscott. That was pretty much my peak," I said.
"Would you ever get a ninety-five?"
I thought for a moment. "No. The only reason I kept going with RTR was because of Griffin, so I'd get a sixty-six before I ever got a ninety-five."
Before Annie could respond to that, someone walked in the door.
"Annie, did you do my laundry, or do I have to do ev—" Josiah hesitated when he saw us. "Hello, Annie. Katie."
I forced a smile. "Hi."
"Hey honey. I'm sorry, but I didn't have time to go to the laundromat today. I got caught up in," Annie scribbled down another set of numbers, "other things."
Josiah crossed his arms. "A waste of time isn't other things, Rosanna."
"Do you really want to do this now? I'm trying to get something done for our friend and teammate who tries her best."
"She's not our friend."
I frowned. "Look, fucker, I'm your friend now, and you're just going to have to deal with it."
"Jesus," Josiah muttered, and he headed back out the door. Maybe he would do his own laundry.
Annie continued her measuring without any chatter. A silence lulled in the air, and suddenly, I liked the situation of her all over me a lot less.
He probably just didn't like me because his girlfriend did, and if he wanted to be an asshole, I could be an even bigger one. I took one for the team that day, but I wasn't going to do it again unless Josiah treated me the way I deserved to be treated: like a goddamn queen there to save their shitty robot team.