One For The Road - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

After a few days of re-adjusting to the robot-fighting life, I spent quite a bit of time with Annie, even though she pissed me off with her joke. I felt sorry for her really. Josiah was a controlling nightmare, but she didn't seem to notice or care.
Josiah wasn't a good person, not even buried under layers and layers of cold, unrelenting ambition like me. He literally threatened me, but I wasn't easily intimidated by anything or anyone. Many believed that it was more of a problem than a virtue.
Truscott tried to call the shots with me, and I hated it. I couldn't imagine living with it.
As Annie cooked some homemade chicken soup on the stove (which seemed a little inappropriate for early summer, but apparently some people thought it was inappropriate to drink at nine in the morning), I scrubbed down the counters. I always liked cleaning Griffin's kitchen for him. It was the best way I could look out for him.
"Thank you again for helping. I know that we're rich now," Annie laughed, "but that doesn't magically change the day-to-day things that need to get done."
I was quite familiar with that phenomenon, but I usually just said fuck it and did what I wanted.
"It's sad that no one else helps you. I'm not trying to start anything, but it's a little pathetic," I said, but everyone within a thirty-mile radius knew that I was, in fact, absolutely trying to start something.
"God, it pisses me off. Sometimes I'm convinced that's the only reason they keep me around." Annie's eyes widened. "I mean, not literally, but still."
Oh, she meant literally.
"I'm sure that's not true. You're smart, sweet, and you're great at designing things. You probably burned the fire suit that you were working on for me, but it was amazing," I said.
"Why would I burn it? You told me you were coming back, and you're a good person. Of course I believed you," Annie said.
I hesitated for a moment. "People don't normally call me that."
"Well, they should. I think you and I both know I have a hard time not saying exactly what I think."
I laughed. "Yes, you do, except for when it comes to your actual feelings."
"Well," Annie paused, "sometimes it's better to just avoid those. They just make life miserable."
The liquid in the pot began to bubble over, and Annie mumbled a string of curses as she waved at it. She had a point, but in my experience, it was the whole avoiding thing that made everything miserable. At least when I was open with them, they didn't have time to fester, but it was also easier to admit that than to actually follow it.
With all the counters clean, I turned to the dishes.
"You know you can do anything you want, right? Hell, if I can, then you definitely can," I said.
Annie turned to me. "Sometimes it's nice to hear that."
I nodded. "It really is."
"But I already am doing anything I want. I got to go to Spain, which is pretty cool. Drake and Josiah are even letting me go with you guys to Cleveland in a couple weeks," she continued.
"Cleveland? Like, in Ohio?"
She nodded.
I smiled. "That's about forty minutes north of where I'm from. It's been a while since I've been home."
Northeast Ohio sure as hell wasn't kind to me, but it was still the place that built me into the person I was. Maybe I could even clear enough time to make a day of visiting my old friend, Dr. Shannon Leslie (who just so happened to be a therapist). She could certainly turn my mess of a mind into something a little more manageable.
"That'll be nice. I'm sure spending so much time on the road has taken a toll on you," Annie replied.
Before I could reply that I didn't mind the traveling, Drake walked into the kitchen. Fresh stains soiled his grey t-shirt, but he wiped his hands on his clothes anyway.
Have fun getting those out. Jesus.
"Smells great in here, Annie," he said, then he turned to me. "I was wondering if you wanted to come work on the robot with me and Josiah. We've pretty much got it completely rebuilt now. It'll definitely feel a little different at the controls."
There were still dishes that needed to be washed, but I also had a reputation that I needed to fix. Drake still wasn't happy with me for leaving right before a tournament, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about that anymore.
I nodded. "Yeah, sure." I stuck the plate I was washing back into the soapy water. We had plenty of dishes for dinner, anyway.
Drake and I met Josiah out in the garage, and sure enough, they had Peanut built back to her former glory. Once Annie touched up the colors a little, she would be the shiniest, most gorgeous killing machine in the universe, but for now, sweet Sacrilege just had to settle for the award of basic-ass killing machine.
I smiled. God, what a title.
Josiah stood up from next to the robot, and for once, he didn't look like he wanted to murder me. Instead, he wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. What was up with that? Had no one told them that oil stains were a bitch to get out of clothing? How were they considered functioning people?
"So I'm really glad that you coughed up a shit ton of money now that we've got the bot rebuilt," he said.
I let myself chuckle. "We really should have coordinated that better."
He waved for me to come and take a look at something, and I squatted down beside the robot as he turned it upside down. He took off a metal plate, and all of the innards were exposed out in the open.
Jesus Christ. It was like he disemboweled our family pet.
"You see that, Katie?" he asked.
I squinted at the mechanical work on the underbelly of the robot. "I see a bunch of wires and shit."
It seemed everything had a place in the robot, and it was all assembled to keep the size as efficient as possible. I had an appreciation for good shit like that given my background, but that didn't mean I understood any of it. The intense mechanical work was for smart people.
"Well, yes, but it's all connected. This one and this one and this one all get the weapon spinning, and this group over here keeps the wheels turning. Isn't it gorgeous?" Josiah asked.
"Oh my god, you have some major OCD," I said.
He looked up from the robot. "Don't kill my baby again."
I blinked a couple times. Wasn't it my job to kill it at least a little? "I'll try to keep that somewhere in the back of my mind. Thanks for reminding me."
"Well, someone has to do it. And while we're establishing a few standards, I should also remind you to stop hitting on my girlfriend."
I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Oh, come on. It's lighthearted fun. Besides, she's totally not into that. If she was, she would have left your sorry ass as soon as she saw me."
"Just stop."
I didn't respond to that. If he was so concerned about losing her, maybe he should have taken matters into his own hands and proposed like she wanted.
Drake cleared his throat. "We actually did a few test runs when you were MIA, and it drives nice and smooth. It's definitely different than the last version of Sacrilege, but it should be easier for you to control. We never got around to testing the weapon, but we feel pretty good about it. It's no different than before."
"And we're still not going to test it without proper precautions. Bulletproof glass is a must in this situation," Josiah said.
I trusted Josiah on a mechanical level, and I trusted Drake on a personal level. That robot was perfectly safe.
The three of us backed up and stood next to each other, and Drake handed me the controller to Sacrilege.
Josiah pointed at one of the sticks on the controller. "It's the same controls as before, Katie. That one is to move—"
I smacked his hand away. "I know what I'm doing."
"Fine. Kill us all. I don't give a fuck," Josiah said.
After fiddling with the new feel of the robot for a minute, I drove it around in circles. That was going to be my celebration dance (if I ever got another win) just like Griffin did after a victory.
How was he doing? After I won the All-Star Race, I just kind of left. He knew it was coming, but that didn't make it any easier.
"It looks like you've got a pretty good handle on the controls again. How does it feel?" Drake asked.
"I kinda like it. Feels a little less fussy than the last one," I replied.
"I'm glad. Now, if you could just stop moving for a second, I want to test out the weapon. It's a little heavier than the last one, so hopefully, it'll do more damage to the opponent," Drake said.
Josiah shook his head. "I don't think we should. Not in here, at least. Annie will kill us if we break something. Hell, I'll kill us if we break something."
Drake smacked the air. "Dude, we did the calculations. It all checks out."
Math was math. Physics was physics. Loud noises were loud noises. I only spoke one of those languages, and it didn't require more than one functioning brain cell to figure it out.
"Fine," Josiah said, and I flipped the switch at the top of the controller. Drake and Josiah always told me not to touch it, and if I had their blessing, I wasn't going to pass up on it.
The spinning metal bar shook to a start, and it wobbled up and down the pole it was centered upon. It never did that before, and as it picked up speed, the teetering motion continued.
Drake waved his hands back and forth. "Shut it down. We got something wrong in the—"
But before I could flip the switch back, something flew off the robot and crashed into the garage door.
Drake covered his mouth with his hand and didn't say a word. The spinner had wobbled right off the robot and punctured a hole in the garage door.
The hum of the motor died down, and we were left in almost complete silence besides the birds chirping outside and my heartbeat in my ears.
"Yeah, I think our shit's fucked up," I said.
"Oh my god. I can't–" Josiah stammered. "That could have killed someone. My baby is dead, and someone else could have died right along with her."
"We can fix it, Josiah. It's not a big deal. We'll have it up and running for the Cleveland tournament—" Drake began, but Josiah interrupted him.
"You're lucky we have her." He pointed to me. "Otherwise, we'd be fucked financially."
Josiah stormed inside, and I heard Annie ask him if everything was alright. He yelled about how everything was definitely not alright.
Drake shook his head. "Well, that's the second time he's expressed any sort of gratitude you're here."
"When was the first?" I asked.
"He has this whole idea that your name will somehow get us into the BattleBots competition this year. It's a little ridiculous, but it also makes perfect sense."
"I don't even want to know what that is," I replied.
"What? BattleBots? It's exactly what it sounds like."
"Look, Drake, I really don't want to talk about robots right now. I probably would have killed you if anything happened to my baby." I looked over at my Corvette. "I really need to get to work on fixing that up."
"You could always just take it to a shop. You've got the cash for it."
I shook my head. "I really don't think I could. I spent my entire childhood building go-carts with my parents, and I guess I just want to feel something like that again."
"I never knew you were into that kind of stuff," Drake said.
"Oh yeah. I loved it as a kid. When I got older, I started driving actual cars, and they supported me the whole way. They knew I had something in me that would get me on the big stage. When I was eighteen, I almost quit it all after they died, but I'm glad I didn't. They wouldn't have wanted that."
"You almost quit?"
I nodded. "Yeah, but fortunately, Paul York, my old crew chief, pulled me out of the gutter. I was a mess for a while. I'm surprised it didn't kill me."
What the hell was I saying? I thought about how Drake seemed trustworthy on a personal level, but didn't he just prove otherwise?
But I couldn't stop. "You know, we always celebrated the Fourth of July with a giant party. Drinks, cars, fireworks, guns. It was the American dream. They're all wonderful separate, but you can't really combine them. Drunk people are stupid—I'm an expert on that—and when you see your drunk ass uncle shoot your parents, it kind of fucks you up."
Drake blinked a few times. "Katie, you don't—"
"But I'm fine now. I'm so fucking fine. Everyone just wanted me to be okay and forgive and forget way too fast. I don't forgive, I don't forget, but I find a way to be fine." I put on a smile. "God, now I'm that bitch I hate. I hate whining. Change the subject before I kill myself."
I was a bug, and life was a Lamborghini's windshield as the car flew down I-95.
"You and I celebrate Independence Day quite differently," Drake said.
Did that even count? "Obviously. Canadians don't know how to fucking party."
Drake laughed. "No, no. I'm pretty American myself."
I rose an eyebrow. "You have an accent. Don't even start with this bullshit. And I'm not even sorry about it." I mocked his pronunciation.
"My dad played in the NFL up until I was eight, then when he wasn't always mentally checked into the game, he had to settle for the CFL. He made a lot of money, but he also lost his wits in the process. You know how head trauma is. It adds up."
I did know quite a bit about that. A broken neck definitely counted.
"And when it finally took his life when I was in high school, he had a small fortune that he never got around to spending. I'll never forget it. I had been friends with Josiah since we were both in the robotics club, and we knew exactly what we were gonna do with it when it finally fell into my hands."
My eyes widened. "Did you have to kill your mom for it?"
Drake shook his head. "They were long divorced at that point. Josiah and I knew we were gonna start a combat robotics team, and we did. Then we ran out of money, but now we have you."
"That makes me sound like your sugar daddy or some shit." I laughed. And maybe I was. I just wasn't getting any sugar for my money.