Collision

by K. A. Sterritt

  “I’m getting cold. Can we go?” I didn’t wait for his response. I just walked away, choking on the enormous lump in my throat that seemed to have taken up permanent residency.

  Over the next few days, I felt my rebellious streak gain traction, and I was finding it harder and harder to hide it. I was riding a rollercoaster of guilt as the seed of doubt began to shoot. One minute I’d be convinced breaking up with Richard was the only way forward, and then I’d spiral downward and fear the repercussions for my fragile mother. I couldn’t just abandon my life as she knew it without seriously considering how badly it could impact her. I loved her, and part of me clung to the fact that she was so invested in me. How would I feel if she abandoned me?

  By the weekend, I was almost beside myself with the constant flip-flopping of my poor tortured mind. Fortunately, there were no social engagements I was expected to attend, so I was free to drive the two hours north of Melbourne to Winton raceway for a little adrenaline therapy. I left at the crack of dawn on Saturday and arrived invigorated and determined. As I pulled my Mini into one of the designated parking bays, I felt my excitement level escalate, allowing my brain to finally compartmentalise my mother, Richard and even Leo, giving me a modicum of peace.

  Supersprints took place on a racetrack and, whilst the rush of the drag came from the extreme acceleration, I got my Supersprint adrenaline from the never-ending quest to achieve a ‘perfect lap’ and in beating my personal best times. A number of cars of similar performance were sent onto the track at roughly five-second intervals for a specified number of ‘hot laps,’ which were electronically timed to thousandths of a second. My objective was to register the fastest lap time in my car’s class over a number of five-lap sessions during the day. Achieving better times than guys in similar cars to mine was always icing on the cake.

  It was a case of pushing myself and my car to our absolute limits on every lap. Brake ten metres too early at one hundred and fifty kilometres per hour—lose two tenths of a second. Brake ten metres too late—run wide, lose half a second. Miss an apex coming on to the main straight—lose a few kph mid-corner speed and kiss goodbye to a full second. It was all a question of concentration and consistency, and by the end of each session, I found myself drained and perspiring freely.

  I’d only been to Winton once before and knew I needed to get myself up to speed for the first flying timed lap after the quick left-right dogleg corner leading to the start finish line straight. The trickiest part of the track was somewhat risquely called ‘the Cleavage,’ due to the obvious similarity of the double-dipping corner layout. The ninety-degree right hander onto the main straight was my favourite corner and also the most important one on the whole circuit. I knew that every extra bit of speed I could hold through here would be carried for the whole length of the main straight and help to compensate for my JCW Mini’s relative lack of horsepower compared to my opposition.

  My phone rang just as I was getting out of my car. Looking at the screen, I groaned.

  “Hey, Mum.” I cupped my phone with my free hand, attempting to muffle the sound of the cars revving in the background. This is the last place on earth she’d expect me to be, and she would be horrified I was participating in such a high-risk activity. She’d be even more concerned by how it would look to be alone at a racetrack full of men.

  “Hello, darling. Where are you?”

  “I’m out and about.” I tried to sound upbeat and friendly. I didn’t want to lie, but I would if I had to. “I’m flat out today, actually.”

  “Oh okay.” She sounded sulky and dejected.

  “Sorry, Mum. Did you need something?”

  “I just thought we could have lunch together today. There’s a new restaurant in Prahran getting fabulous reviews.”

  “Oh… um…”

  “Please, Juliette. We need to spend more time together.”

  “I come to the house every Sunday night for dinner,” I retorted, perhaps a little too aggressively.

  “I’ve talked Richard into leaving the office for a few hours to join us.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “He’s such a workaholic. It’s Saturday, for goodness’ sake. Such a good work ethic, that man.”

  Surely, after our recent conversation, she had to know that was a deterrent rather than an incentive. I stared at the sky, willing it to drop a plausible excuse into my brain. I drew a blank.

  “I’m really busy today, Mum.”

  “You can be very selfish, Juliette. I don’t ask you for much.”

  Tears stung my eyes and I paused before replying. “I’m sorry, Mum.” When no response came after a few seconds, I glanced at the screen. She had hung up.

  I put my phone back in my pocket and closed my eyes, trying to push the negativity away. When I opened them, I gritted my teeth. This weekend was mine.

  “You made it,” Jim called out, waving to me as I walked past his Subaru WRX towards the registration desk. “Of course.” I waved back. “No place I’d rather be. Where’s Shorty?”

  “He’s over at Smithy’s car, fiddling with tyre pressures as usual.”

  I laughed. Shorty worked as one of the bookies at Flemington racecourse, but his passion was engines and he could easily be a top race mechanic. He could talk endlessly about the intricacies of ignition-timing and suspension settings—and frequently did. When it came to improving a car’s performance, he could talk under wet cement with a mouth full of marbles, and it always made me smile. Listening to anyone talk about their passion is a joy, especially when the subject is something that interests me too.

  I signed in and quickly scanned the entry list. I saw Scott Henderson was in the same class as me and wondered if he’d show me any more respect since I crushed him at the drag race. Probably not—his ego would’ve assured him it was a one-off fluke.

  “Good luck, Juliette,” the lady behind the registration desk said as she checked off my CAMS licence details and handed me my race number. “You show those boys how it’s done.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry,” I replied, grinning. “I fully intend to.”

  Back in the pits, I took my jumper off and flung it on the plastic table set up next to my car. I then retrieved my fire-engine-red race suit from the back seat and pulled it on over my jeans and t-shirt. As I zipped up the front, I rolled my eyes, hearing several wolf whistles coming from nearby.

  “Lookin’ good, Jules—I’ve always liked the Winton cleavage.” Scott Henderson’s face appeared in front of my car. “Shouldn’t you be at home doing the dishes or something?” he added with a smarmy grin.

  I climbed into my car, shaking my head at his backhanded compliment and blatant chauvinism. I knew he was just trying to get a rise out of me. I clicked my six-point harness at the front, pulled it tight and gave him my best hair toss. “Just keep checking your rear-view mirror, pal—I’ll be all over you after a couple of laps.” I looked him dead in the eye and cocked my head, inviting him to bite. Instead, he just mumbled something under his breath and shuffled off.

  “You all set?” Shorty asked, tapping the bonnet. “Tyre pressures? Wheel nuts? Nothing loose inside the car? The scrutineers are really looking for trouble today.”

  I pulled my helmet down over my head, fastened the strap and gave Shorty the thumbs up.

  Half an hour later, I’d been given the all clear and was ushered onto the track for a single warm-up lap. I quickly tried to familiarise myself with the track. Accelerating hard down the main straight was actually the easiest part. Whilst making sure I snatched third, then fourth gear the instant my shift light indicated maximum revs, I also had time for a quick glance at my engine temperature and oil pressure gauges. Normal. Perfect. The world outside was deafening, but the craziness inside my head was silent. The adrenaline rush forcing drivers to push harder and faster, otherwise known as the ‘red mist,’ had well and truly taken control, and I was out to win with no thought for anything, or anyone, else.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Juliette />
  Winton was such an awesome high; it carried me through the next couple of weeks. I had crushed my previous best lap time, well and truly showing Scott Henderson and anyone else who doubted my abilities, that my drag race victory was no fluke.

  When the next fight night arrived, I waited for the text message with even greater anticipation than usual. As a cab pulled up in front of me, I locked eyes across the street with a familiar-looking guy with white blonde hair and pale eyes. I’d seen him at the gym the night before while I was warming up for Zac and had felt uneasy at the time. It had felt like he was watching my every move, but I’d forgotten about him as soon as I started pummelling the bag. The man across the street broke eye contact, pretending to be interested in a flyer stuck to the inside of the shop window he was standing in front of. Weird.

  The whole process of getting to the fight was the same, but the adrenaline I thrived on hit me with a greater force. As much as I tried to deny it to myself, I felt anxious to see Leo again, at the same time knowing I should stay away. Nothing had actually changed in my life, and seeing him would be a reminder of what was out of my reach. Would he be there? It had been almost a month since I last saw him. He’d probably forgotten about me.

  “Do you think Leo will show tonight?” Shorty asked as we jostled our way into the non-descript warehouse somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

  “Word on the street says he’ll be here.” Jim shrugged his shoulders with indifference.

  My heart soared and plummeted in quick succession.

  I headed directly to the cage fence with Jim while Shorty, once again, went in search of his other mates.

  “I’ll be fine if you want to go with Shorty, Jim,” I reassured my friend.

  “I’m good, Jules. This is a networking opportunity for him. I’m just here to watch the fights.”

  Happy with his response, I started scanning for the fighters. I zeroed in on the huddles and strained to catch any glimpse of the one person who had claimed a piece of me. I closed my eyes in an attempt to block out the rising emotion of knowing however much I wanted to be what my mother needed, I had needs too. I needed to see Leo.

  The announcer’s voice startled me and I snapped my eyes open. Leo was in the cage right in front of me. I wanted to cry out with happiness, with fear, with a confused mixture of warring emotions and hungry desire. The bell rung, and the fighters tapped fists before taking their places and bouncing on the spot. Leo’s opponent, Reaper, looked terrifying and mean. His head was fully shaved except for a plaited rat’s tail hanging down the back of his neck. Tattoos covered the majority of his upper body and, judging by what I could make out, he was one angry individual. Fire-breathing dragons, swastikas, skulls, tombstones and a variety of other ink, no doubt designed for intimidation. There appeared to be some kind of tally system across his lower abdominals, and I couldn’t help wondering if they were ink representations of his victims, lying dead in dumpsters and riverbeds. Although Leo was undefeated, I was sick to my stomach with worry.

  The first few minutes were fairly uneventful, both fighters managing to avoid any serious blows. They were completely focused, and I was mesmerised by Leo’s massive, rock-hard body, dancing with a ballerina’s grace. Reaper had equally skilful footwork and, much to my horror, they appeared evenly matched.

  “Hit him in the vagina!” yelled a swaying man three across from me. “Pussies!”

  The crowd roared with laughter, clearly enjoying the entertainment of the excruciating build-up. The tension between the fighters rose, and I could sense an imminent explosion. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Leo’s eyes were like slits, and my whole body hummed with fear and excitement. He hadn’t looked into the crowd once and, whilst I longed for his gaze, I didn’t want to risk any distraction.

  I’m not exactly sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t what transpired. Leo landed a hook to Reaper’s body faster than my eyes could witness. Judging from the seemingly slow motion of the flailing body flung impossibly far, there was some extraordinary brute strength behind his fist. Reaper was left sprawled face-down on the khaki canvas. Murmurs around the crowd questioned whether he was faking, but I was convinced he wasn’t. When he started to spit blood, I knew I was right. Leo was the winner by knockout.

  Leo exited the cage. The first fight was over, and I managed to exhale.

  Within minutes, two new fighters entered the ring. Rusty had a shock of orange hair sticking out at odd angles. I couldn’t decide whether he meant it to be styled that way or it was just naturally bizarre hair. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and dotted with a fine smattering of freckles. I bet he was a cute kid before he turned into a first-grade thug. Thumping his chest, he emanated guttural roars as he raised the volume of the room with his crowd-pleasing antics. At one point, he flung himself up the cage fence and straddled the top, arms flung into the air to the crowd’s obvious delight. His opponent, Barb’s husband Paul, had a much better shot this time, and I could see his sly smile only just visible to my keen eye. He obviously knew the showier the fighter, the less concerned he needed to be. This guy was almost an assumed pushover.

  As expected, Paul had him down for the count in less than four minutes. Rusty would’ve no doubt been embarrassed had he been conscious when he was carted from the ring, a pool of blood in his wake.

  A few boring fights later and Leo was back in the cage with Paul for the semi-final. The desire to leap into the cage and throw myself into Leo’s arms was, at times, overwhelming. He was everything. Pure unadulterated lust seeped from my pores and slid unashamedly towards him. I couldn’t see straight and, at that moment, I knew I would be breaking up with Richard. Even if Leo wanted nothing to do with me, I couldn’t go on the way I had been. I wanted more.

  “Bloody hell,” Jim cursed. “I have to take a piss. “You’ll be okay for five minutes?”

  “Of course.” I smiled at my overprotective friend. “No worries at all.” He started the process of pushing through the crowd and when I had lost sight of him, I turned back to the cage.

  “Hello, beautiful.” A deep voice whispered into my ear from behind, and cold chills ran the length of my spine.

  I spun towards the voice and was met with a creepy set of pale blue eyes, shadowed by a grey hoodie, partially covering the now familiar man’s head.

  “Who are you?” I demanded, irritated by his interruption and obvious stalking.

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  I was vaguely aware of the bell ringing and the fight beginning. A quick sideways glance and I could see Leo the predator stalking his next meal.

  I turned back to Hoodie. “Puh-leease. I’m not afraid of you.” My voice was even with honesty. “What do you want and why are you following me?”

  “Somebody really doesn’t want you here with the scum of society.” His hand surprised me with its steel grip on my arm, and I flinched with the pain shooting up to my shoulder.

  “Let go of me, you psycho.” I pulled away roughly, which only served to increase the pain in my shoulder socket. His eyes had gone from showing no emotion to obvious enjoyment. He was getting a thrill out of our interaction and I was getting increasingly pissed off. I took a quick survey of my surroundings and assessed I was on my own. Jim and Shorty were nowhere to be seen, and everyone else’s attention was gripped to the cage.

  “You’re a feisty little number.” He licked his lips as he raked his eyes up and down my squirming body. “I might give you a run later.”

  “Fuck off, you pig.” My cursing made him chuckle, and I took the opportunity to slam my foot down hard on his, followed up immediately with a knee to the balls when his grip on my arm momentarily eased off. Hoodie’s screams of pain turned a few heads, and when I glanced up at the cage, I was horrified. Leo had seen me. We were riveted to the spot in a locked stare, and Hoodie took the opportunity to grab me roughly from behind. Leo’s body coiled in rage and he launched himself at the wire cage.

  “Get off her
!” he yelled. “I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t get off her.”

  He had to refocus. Paul had been given a reprieve and was stalking towards him, having taken a moment to recover with a blood puddle at his feet. I launched into counter-attack mode, starting with a rear head smash to draw his attention upward. I spun around when he released me and quickly slammed my foot down hard on his again. I shifted my hips hard and fast to the left and then struck his groin with all the force I could muster. Judging from the fact I was quickly released and he was bellowing in agony on the ground, it was a lot.

  Smiling, I looked away from my victim and back to Leo, whose shocked look would’ve been cute if I weren’t then watching Paul take his opportunity in what felt like slow motion. I heard myself scream Leo’s name, and he thankfully reacted on instinct to the threat behind him. All the saliva in Paul’s mouth flew sideways as he took a hard hit to the face then a punch to the stomach. He dropped to his knees and tipped forward, landing with a loud thud. He was out, and I was pretty sure Barb would be warming up the car.

  The crowd gasped and cheered as Leo was declared the winner and poor Paul was dragged off.

  “You little bitch.” Hoodie spat then groaned again. His aching, bruised groin would be a reminder for a while to leave me alone.

  “Don’t you speak another word to her, you fucking arsehole.” From nowhere, Leo’s angry voice startled me.

  Stunned and muted, I watched in horror as Leo wrenched Hoodie from the ground into the air by his throat. With his breathing cut off, his legs flailed frantically.

  Jim and Shorty appeared by my side and I’d never been more thankful to see them.

  “Please get that guy out of here before Leo kills him.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice, and clearly they could too as they leapt forward immediately and pulled Hoodie from Leo’s grasp in the nick of time.