Racehead

by Daya Daniels

  In simple English, reduction gearing slows shit down.

  The Wright Brothers recognized the need for reduction gearing, but it was not used on aircraft engines until larger engines were built in the 1920s.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah…

  The neighborhood is mostly quiet but just next door—where my landlord lives—there’s a party going on. Bottles break. Laughter erupts. The music turns up louder.

  I shake my head realizing that only in a super-cool neighborhood like this one could anyone get away with shenanigans such as this at this late hour without someone calling the cops.

  Rushing over to the window, I peer through the blinds.

  And boy oh boy are there lots of people at the party. Young. Old. Men. Women.

  It’s one big melting pot of humans.

  They laugh. They hug. The dance to the music.

  I groan when I spot Ruby already watching me, watching them.

  Shit.

  Letting go of the blind, I back away from the window. Then, I peek through the slats of the blind again and find her marching across the yard, holding her skirt up with her fingertips when she steps over low hedges.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” I pace the tight space wondering what to do.

  I growl then decide maybe she isn’t coming here.

  Yes, exactly.

  She isn’t coming over here.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  The light taps on the door cause me to swing my head toward it.

  “Vashti!” Ruby sings out. “I know you’re awake. I saw you peeking through the blinds.” She giggles.

  Ruby Benitez—divorced mother of three obnoxious boys. Sweet lady and fellow university student. Talks way too much and a little nosey. Always offers to buy groceries for Banks and me and every Sunday she marches a dish of pork taco rice casserole over here.

  Fuck she’s nice.

  Ruby still looks good for her age since she’s old enough to be my mother. She wears her signature red lipstick and right through her head of curly ebony hair is one gray streak which she refuses to dye. Said she earned it from a life of misery being married to a man, so she’s keeping it. Ruby left her “piece of shit” husband as she says and decided to start her life over. She went back to school, started her own business and accepted the realization one day that she’s a lesbian.

  “Vashti Patel!” Ruby calls out my name.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  “Open this door. You are missing a wonderful party going on over at my house. You should come over. I know you’re awaaaaake.”

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  A loud breath leaves me just as fiddle with all the locks and yank the door open.

  “Hi, Ruby.” I poke my head through the crack.

  “Heyyyyy. Why look so sad?” She does a shimmy in her mango print dress and shakes around the margarita in her hand. Gasping, her eyes go wide when peers past me and spots all the books laid out on the coffee table. She slaps a palm to her chest. “Please don’t tell me you’re studying, at this hour…on a Friday night. This should be a crime. I should call the cops.” Ruby’s smile seems to be tattooed on her face.

  “Yes, I’m studying. We have an exam next week.”

  Laughing, she gestures nonchalantly. “Next week is soooo far away, Vashti. Come on. Please exit this tiny house and come and have some fun.”

  “Banks is asleep,” I deadpan.

  She purses her lips, gets all excited and waves her hand around, ushering the pack of teenage girls over. The group of them are Ruby’s nieces who look older than frickin’ me. “That’s no problem. Milena will make sure Banks is okay. And besides, the house is right there, Vashti.” She smiles and points to the narrow driveway that separates our homes. “Banks will be fine. He’s just a few steps away. If the house catches fire, I can assure you that you will be the first to smell the smoke.”

  “The house won’t catch fire.” Milena tosses the words over her shoulder with attitude as she strolls past me and into this matchbox of a house. As soon as she’s in the living room, she plops down on the sofa and clicks the TV on. Her friends march in right behind her, one by one, like zombies and do the same.

  “Do you see, Vashti? All taken care of.” Ruby smiles.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  She sticks her red-painted fingernail in her mouth. “I saw who dropped you off earlier tonight.”

  Lowering my head, I smile.

  “That Nevada Cruz is quite the superstar around here.” She dusts me with her margarita breath.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I didn’t realize that was her car you had.” She scrunches up her face. “I thought maybe you stole it.”

  I shoot her a look.

  “I’m just kidding, Vashti.” Ruby hums and fiddles with her hair. “So you have a girlfriend now?”

  I ruffle my hair, feeling uncomfortable about the question. “We’re friends.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why? We’re you planning to ask her out on a date?” I push my feet into a pair of flip flops.

  Ruby explodes into laughter. “Absolutely not. I’m just curious. A few of the ladies next door have been after that sexy racing machine for quite a while now with no luck. Nevada Cruz loves women, but, she loves cars more.” Dipping her chin down to her chest, she chuckles. “I think they want to know how you caught her attention. I figure it has to be more than just those big beautiful brown eyes of yours, Vashti.”

  No clue.

  And then I go with the truth.

  “I have no clue how to change a flat tire.” Standing straight, I smile right before I shut the front door behind me.

  “Huh?” Ruby is completely lost for a moment.

  I blame the liquor.

  “I have no clue how to change a flat tire.” I smirk.

  Ruby laughs out loud. “Oh, honey, of course you don’t.” She taps me on the shoulder a few times. “None of us do!”

  God help us all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Vashti

  SATURDAY MORNINGS ARE NEVER like this…

  I can’t stop talking about the party last night.

  The one where I stood around at first for a bit, ate a few chicken wonton tacos and then worked up the courage to mingle. Still, I didn’t drink though. Just talked. Laughed a bit. Learned more about Ruby and her friends who were quite welcoming.

  Now, the Cuda barrels down Interstate 91 West.

  The breeze rushes through my hair.

  The Cars’ “Drive” plays on the radio.

  Nevada keeps one hand on the wheel and her other arm out the window.

  “Where are we going?” Banks kicks the back of my seat hard, once.

  I groan. “It’s a surprise.”

  “If you’re both planning to take me to some stupid barbeque or bar mitzvah or anything that involves other kids, I swear I’ll hurl.”

  Nevada adjusts the rear-view mirror. “You don’t want to hang out with other kids today, Banks?”

  “No, not today. I’ve had enough of them all week in school. I just want to be around adults today and talk about things that make sense and not stupid stuff like the latest Steven Universe episode.”

  Nevada laughs. “Well, isn’t that what kids do, Banks?”

  Banks. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “They watch TV and talk about all sorts of crazy and weird stuff.” Nevada shrugs. “At least that’s what I did when I was a kid.” She laughs and gives me the side eye.

  “Banks is in a bad mood. I told you we should’ve left him with Matilda today.” I fold my arms across my chest. “The only thing that’ll cheer him up is if we take him to the aquarium or a museum or something.”

  “Yeah, that would be cool.” He sulks.

  “I’ve never seen you this sullen, little dude. What’s up?” Nevada questions.

  I gaze out the window.

  “Vashti always says birthdays are supposed to be fun. But I think birthdays suck, especially if you’re dead.” Banks meets my eye
s in the side-view mirror.

  Nevada’s gray eyes land on me, then she changes lanes.

  “Because birthdays are supposed to be fun, Banks.” I huff.

  Nevada’s focus stays on the road. “Do you know what I do whenever my madre’s birthday comes around?”

  I peer at Nevada curious as to how she could know what’s up without me telling her so. And then I’m grateful I’m not required to explain it. After all, this is our first date and it’s already doing downhill since we’re discussing death and dealing with Banks’ sour mood.

  “Take her a cake?” Banks drawls.

  “No. No, nothing like that. My mother is gone just like yours is.” She eyes Banks in the rear-view mirror. “I put on her favorite song and sing it as though she’s in the room.”

  “Does that help?” Banks sits forward, adjusting his seatbelt.

  Nevada’s brows arch. “Um, yeah, it does a little. It’s a nice way to remember her without making me too sad.”

  Banks’ browns light up. “What was her favorite song?”

  “Honestly?” Nevada giggles. “You’re going to laugh if I tell you what it was.”

  Banks shakes his head. “No, I won’t. I promise.”

  “You will.” Nevada makes a funny face.

  “I won’t. Pleeeeease tell me.” Banks puts his hands together in prayer.

  “Okay, okay. It was…” Nevada clicks a few buttons on the dashboard.

  MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This” explodes from the speakers.

  Banks explodes into laughter.

  My eyeballs are nearly out of my head at Nevada’s singing and seat dancing.

  “Oh my God!” I cover my face with my hands.

  Banks bounces around in the seat and sings too.

  “How do you even know this song?” I glare at Banks, shocked that he knows all the words.

  WHOOP. WHOOP.

  I look around frantically, trying to make sense of the deafening shrill sound through the volume of the music. Then, I spot the police cruiser pulling up behind us.

  Nevada turns down the radio.

  WHOOP. WHOOP.

  The lights flash. It all sucks the weird mixture of happiness and sadness right from this car and replaces it quickly with confusion and apprehension.

  “Crap.” Groaning, Nevada slows the Cuda down and pulls over to the shoulder.

  The traffic whizzes by and the morning sun beats down on the hot asphalt.

  “Are we being arrested?” Banks laughs.

  “Banks, please.” I give him the put-a-lid-on-it glare.

  Nevada gnaws on her bottom lip as she peers in the side-view mirror.

  “What’s going on?” I search her face and find nothing there but calm even though my heart is pounding away in my chest.

  “I don’t think we have any illegal narcotics in this vehicle.” Banks chuckles. “Maybe the cops are just trying to warn us about jackrabbits on the highway.”

  “What?” I grit my teeth and face ahead.

  Nevada waits patiently as the rather large woman exits the police cruiser and makes her way slowly to this car. I spot the sheriff’s badge on her uniform as she approaches.

  Boots shift the gravel at her feet as the sheriff saunters up to our car, rests her arm on the roof and peers inside, eyeballing all three of us like we’re potentially hiding dead bodies in the trunk.

  “Good morning, Sheriff Abs.” Nevada offers up a cheesy smile.

  Nevada knows this woman?

  Sheriff Abs’ molasses skin is sheened with sweat. “Good morning, Nevada Cassia Cruz, or, shall I call you Racehead?”

  Nevada

  SHERIFF BONIFA ABS…

  The sharp-edged rock in the sole of my boot.

  The ultimate cramp to my period.

  The four-inch steel nail in my flat fucking tire.

  If she asks me for my license, I’ll be in trouble because I have no clue where it is.

  Maybe it’s on the floor of the wrecker…or under my bed…or in the trash!

  “No, it’s fine to just call me ‘Nevada’ this morning, Sheriff Abs.” My smile is big and “sincere.” I examine her wrinkled uniform which tells me she’s been for a run. Maybe a long one. Likely chasing criminals around Riverside county. Who knows.

  She needs it though.

  I’d say it’s good for her health.

  With a surname like “Abs” you’d think this woman would be the epitome of a fitness fanatic. Instead, she looks as if she ate some of the suspects she’s looking for.

  Maybe it’s why she can’t find them?

  Sheriff Abs tips her hat back then wipes her sweaty face with a handkerchief. “I’ve been out all morning driving around this city. I had breakfast. I’ve had at least three cups of coffee.” She whistles. “I’ve cleaned up an accident. I’ve even returned a little boy to his rightful home who was lost.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Sheriff Abs. We need you around here, keeping everything in order, doing the right thing, making sure people don’t get out of line in Riverside county.” I smile, smile, smile.

  “Mmmmmm hmmmmm.” Sheriff Abs grins.

  Vashti’s stiff as a rich woman with her money and keeps her eyes fixed on the side-view mirror. I’m not sure what’s she’s looking at. But the size of them tells me maybe a deer or some other wild animal.

  “Do you catch criminals?” Banks’ head appears next to mine.

  Sheriff Abs grins. “Yes, young man, as a matter of fact, I do. I catch all the bad people around Riverside county who do baaaaad things and break the law. Because as you know, people who break the law get to spend some time wearing these...” She taps on the metal handcuffs hooked to her gargantuan waist.

  “So cool.” Banks’ mouth stays open in amazement.

  “Yeah, young man, it’s what I do all day around this place.” She sighs. “And you must remember…” She glares at me. “That people who commit crimes around Riverside county, usually right after they’ve done their bad deeds they get to spend a few minutes in my trusty handcuffs. Then they’re taken to jail where they usually end up spending lots and lots of time. Often years. Sometimes…the rest of their lives.”

  “Oh man.” Banks taps me on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to go with her.”

  “No.” I smirk. “Who would?”

  Sheriff Abs laughs. “What’s your name, young man?”

  Banks salutes. “It’s Bankebihari Patel.”

  Sheriff Abs’ brows disappear beneath her hat. “That’s a good name, young man.”

  “Thank you.” Banks salutes once more.

  I toss a hand up. “You can just call him Banks.”

  “Banks.” Sheriff Abs nods slowly. “Well, Banks, if you ever see any crimes taking place around this county, you be sure to report them. And if you ever need our help, the number is 911.”

  “Let’s keep the city safe,” Banks states.

  I swallow down my laugh/scoff.

  Checking my watch, I realize we’re losing time with this bullshit. “Sheriff Abs, we’re trying to be getting somewhere and we have at least a forty-five minute drive ahead of us. Is there some reason you pulled me over?”

  “Why, yes?” Sheriff Abs offers me a pearly white smile and leans forward to peer at Vashti, then at me, then at Banks. “Is this your mother, Banks?”

  “Sister,” Vashti deadpans.

  “Oh.” Sheriff Abs laughs. “I see. Well, the three of you look like one big happy family.” She peeks in the back seat at the green floaty. “Going to the beach?”

  “Yeah.” I inhale sharply. “If we can get there…”

  “I haven’t been to the beach in ages. Man oh man, do I miss it.” Sheriff Abs hooks her fingers in the loops of her belt next to where her gun is holstered.

  “I wouldn’t have figured you for the sea faring type, Sheriff Abs,” I say.

  Vashi snorts a soft laugh.

  “Oh, no, I am. You betcha. There’s nothing I like more than basking in the sun.” Sheriff Abs smile
s.

  Vashti giggles more.

  Don’t whales typically bask?

  “Well, Sheriff Abs, we should really be going. Time ticks.” My smile is stiff.

  “Oh, yes, yes, Nevada. But before you do, I just wanted to ask you a few questions, seeing that I’ve bumped into you this morning and all.”

  Sure…

  But bumped into?

  Or more like hunted down?

  Sheriff Abs stands tall and looks around and then up at the pale blue sky above where the eagles fly and the white fluffy clouds float past. It’s absolutely gorgeous. A severe contrast to the itchy situation I’m in now.

  “We got some reports last night about a crowd out in The Badlands. Something about illegal racing going on out there”

  “Way out there, Sheriff Abs?” My brows knot.

  “Yeah.” She exhales. “Way out there.” She eyeballs me for much too long.

  I smile. “Just seems like a weird place for street racers to be gathering.”

  “Is it?” She places a hand on her big hip.

  “Yeah, I’d say. I think they generally prefer straightaways, like on the drag strip, ya know. The Badlands is a dangerous place to be street racing if people are. Lots of curves. Lots of cliffs. Too many tunnels.”

  “Uh huh.” Sheriff Abs blinks.

  “I’d check those reports once more if I were you. I’m sure they’re wrong. People gather out in The Badlands at night all the time, but mostly to stargaze. That’s probably what they were doing out there, Sheriff Abs.” I arch my brows, waiting.

  “You know, Nevada, you and I have known each other for a long, long time…since you were just a girl.” Sheriff Abs reminds me that we go way, way back around Riverside. “I remember the first day you got your license and when I caught you speeding along Brentwood Avenue.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” My gaze remains low.

  Sheriff Abs gives me a long look. “You’re trying to go pro now, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, yes, always have been. In fact, I have a drift race in a few weeks. It will give me a chance to win some prize money. At least if I get in the top five I will.”