Racehead

by Daya Daniels

  Banks puts his hands on his hips. He glares at the other drivers and then his eyes are back on Nevada. “Well, you’ll beat their time.”

  Nevada pulls him in for a hug. “You know it, little dude.”

  I cover my ears when more engines kick over. Thick white smoke envelops where the three of us stand. The stench of gasoline lingers.

  POP. POP. POP.

  Banks squeals.

  POP. POP. POP.

  Tiny fiery explosions leave the exhaust pipe of one of the cars as it burns off the excess gasoline.

  POP. POP. POP.

  I can barely hear myself think!

  Nevada slips her goggles on.

  I snap a quick picture of her with my phone then the three of us take a selfie together.

  Nevada visibly exhales.

  I stand straighter. “You’re going to do great out there.” I smile.

  “Thanks.” She slips her helmet on.

  “I’ll see you when it’s all over.” Leaning forward, I press a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, V.” She winks.

  Catcalling, whistling and applause follow along with some name-calling.

  I ignore most of it, then snatch Banks and head through the crowd to where Ruby and her big, big family are seated.

  “This is so exciting!” Ruby bounces in her seat.

  POP. POP. POP.

  The racetrack is huge and wide and lined with bright yellow cones. There are turns for as far as the eye can see on the long track where the steam rises from the asphalt under the sun.

  “Yeah, I know.” I suck in a breath, shoving down my nervousness.

  I know how important this race is.

  I know how much Nevada deserves to be seen.

  I know how much is riding on the love of my life making it in the top five.

  Glancing over at the panel of judges, inwardly I groan.

  They’re all men.

  Surprise, surprise.

  I sigh.

  “RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD! RACEHEAD!” The crowd cheers, then a vicious tsunami of BOOOOO’S follow.

  Twisting around in my seat, I search for the enemy.

  Ruby places a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, ignore them. This is how these races always are. Nevada’s ranking at the end of this race will silence them.” She smirks. “It always does.”

  Nevada

  IGNORE THE HEAT…

  And by that I don’t mean the solar rays from the sun.

  I’m referring to the heated glares, vicious stares and rabid snarls from my fellow drivers here.

  With a breath, I kick over the engine and shut my eyes for what feels like a lifetime.

  It idles smoothly, no kinks, no backfiring.

  My grip on the wheel is comfortable beneath my gloves. Check. I can breathe in my Nomex, fire-retardant suit. The five-point harness is cozy. Check. The gear stick is in the right position. Check. Side-mirrors are at the right angle. Check. Vashti is in the crowd and still smiling. Check.

  Ash pokes her head in the window. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as a woman who’s about to cash a check is.”

  Laughing, she glances over at the next car where that asshole Jeremy revs up his engine. “Just be careful of him, okay. He’s hungry for this and we don’t need any accidents.” Her lips press into a hard line and her stare is granite.

  With an inhale, I accept that unlike most of the other drivers here who have two drift cars because they have the money for it, I, however, only have one. And if it goes off the rails, I’m out of the race.

  “Nevada, I’m not fucking kidding with you.” Ash grips my arm.

  “Yeah, yes, I know.” I rip mine out of her clutches, annoyed.

  “Okay, good. Let’s go kick some ass.” She slaps my helmet and orders me to drive ahead toward the starting line.

  The crowd goes wild when the announcer yells my name.

  I push down on the gas pedal and hold the brake at the same time, giving the fans smoke, which is the drift driver’s way of saying “thanks for your support.”

  They’re all here for me.

  To see me win.

  To witness me become something more than just an illegal street racer who fixes flat tires and tows cars during the day.

  I wave to the crowd.

  “I didn’t think you’d show up today.” Jeremy, who’s in the driver’s seat of the car next to me, looks my way.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Yeah, I figured you’d still be chillin’ on the beach with your girlfriend.”

  “Well, that was playtime. Now, it’s time for me to work.” I keep waving, smiling, like the reina I am.

  Jeremy…

  Um.

  Uh.

  Who gives a shit about his last name!

  He’s a real wannabe pro-driver fuckhead.

  Jesus Christ on a jet engine, this guy makes me want to vomit in my own mouth.

  He’s a rich kid whose dear old daddy pours more than enough green into his dream.

  I took Jeremy’s car once out at The Badlands.

  Can’t even really remember what it was.

  Only recall that it was a piece of shit, didn’t even bother to keep it, sold it for parts. I don’t know…Maybe got fifty bucks for it.

  My guess is that Jeremy’s still pissed about all that.

  Oh no.

  His ego took a beating that night.

  “Well, Racehead, I don’t think there’s enough room in this gas tank for you.”

  “No?”

  “Nah, no space, brah. There’s only room for winners here.”

  “Which means you shouldn’t be here as it is…”

  Jeremy laughs.

  So do I.

  Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, cabron!

  Syd taps me on the arm. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her expression is serious. She glances behind her and gives Jeremy a hard look before giving me a hard stare. “Good, good. You look good, relaxed. The car is running pretty. Everything sounds great and the tires are in tip top shape.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  The announcer works the crowd.

  The people cheer.

  “Do you think I’m missing anything, Syd?” I steel my voice, concealing the worry in it since the last thing I want to do is worry Syd right now and make her think I’m losing my shit.

  She cups my face with her hand and smiles. “Nope, kiddo. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

  I nod harshly once.

  Just keep doing what you’re doing…

  And then Syd is gone.

  Jeremy’s eyes are still fixed on me.

  I smoke him out, punching the gas, revving the engine. The dense white cloud around us just gets bigger and bigger and bigger. Jeremy chokes. I laugh.

  Jeremy better get used to the smoke.

  Because that’s where I intend to fucking leave him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Vashti

  “YOU SONOFABITCH!” SYD THRUSTS a finger into the main judge’s face.

  It’s complete pandemonium.

  The drift race has been over for hours.

  The crew chiefs, the drivers, a select few fans and the press had gathered near the track to find out the scores. And since then it’s been chaos.

  Nevada placed fifth.

  The crowd cheered when she did a burnout celebrating her victory. We kissed. We jumped around like fools. We celebrated. Ruby and her family went nuts, singing and dancing in the stands, waving their homemade signs around.

  It was unreal!

  Syd had shed so many tears I thought there was going to be a flash flood.

  And then a few minutes after the results had been announced we were told there had been an error with the scoring.

  Now, it’s this…

  “You, sonofabitch! You can’t do this to her! You can’t do this to us!” Syd’s eyes are wild, and her fists are balled at her sides. “Explain how this can happen!�
�� She grits her teeth. “Explain!”

  The main judge, a man…surprise, surprise…wipes the sweat from his face and lets out a shaky, guilty breath.

  Security stands guard with apprehension parked on their faces.

  I hold Banks close to my side.

  “You can’t rob my driver of a win she clearly deserves!” Syd’s eyes are filled with tears but this time they aren’t happy ones. They’re full of rage. “You can’t do this to her!” She points at Nevada who stands near her, looking broken, holding her helmet in her hand, looking like a kid who just got tossed out of summer camp.

  Her hair is messy and her face is covered in sweat.

  My heart cracks at this crazy scene.

  Ash stands next to me. Big eyes. Wild blue hair all over her head. “This is looney as fuckkkkk.”

  Tell me about it…

  I hold Banks closer to me.

  All around this room are men.

  The drivers. The judges. The crew chiefs.

  The women are sprinkled around this room very lightly.

  There are enough of us here so that the powers that be can say we weren’t left out…

  The main judge stands taller. “This is the panel’s decision. We cannot be held responsible for mistakes. This was an error. We have reviewed the scores and determined that Nevada Cassia Cruz a.k.a Racehead, has been deemed to have finished this race in sixth position.”

  I scoff in disgust.

  “The fifth place driver has now been determined to be Jeremy Betch.”

  “Betch?” Syd jerks her head back like she’d just been slapped and looks around, ignoring the audience she’s been holding captive for the last twenty minutes. “Betch. As in the surname of the chairman of this racing division?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The main judge tips his head forward.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Syd’s voice is high-pitched. With a gaped mouth she looks around as if she can’t believe where she is. Her words have been stolen right from her mouth. She doesn’t speak them, but I know exactly what she now realizes.

  That we’re swimming in a cesspool of chauvinistic hogs…

  The main judge continues to blabber. “No, ma’am. I’m not kidding you. These are the final scores. It is what the judges have decided. We kindly ask that you respect—"

  Syd sucks in a breath. “FUCK YOU!” Her finger is back in the dude’s face again as she leans closer. “RACEHEAD is better than every single driver in this room and you know it!” With eyes ablaze, Syd glowers at every soul in this room. “She-is-THE-best. And all of you know it!”

  The dude who’s currently being verbally assaulted blinks rapidly.

  “Fuck you!” Spittle flies from Syd’s mouth and lands on the man’s face. “Fuck you!” She swears and swears and swears and soon it’s as if she knows no other words.

  My god.

  Syd is a wild mama bear protecting her cub.

  Everyone in this room should be afraid, very afraid.

  The cameras flash.

  CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

  The table in front of Syd topples over when Syd pushes it over and all the trophies and medals go crashing to the floor.

  Security rushes forward and puts a barrier between Syd and the asshole.

  Syd stomps toward Nevada and grabs her by the arm. “Fuck you! Fuck this division! Fuck, Jeremy Betch and his fucking father!” She goes all in.

  CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

  “Fuck all of you! You have robbed my driver of her fifth place position in this because she’s a woman and you know it! I will never forgive you for this. Never.” She drags Nevada away. “Fuck you, you bunch of non-driving, brake riding, no flat tire changing, non parallel parking, preppy, pompous motherfuckers!”

  Geesh.

  CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

  I shoulder through the crowd, holding on tightly to Banks.

  Ash follows.

  Banks glances up at me. “V, this is undoubtedly sexual discrimination.”

  Smiling, I smooth his hair and pull him close to me, against my heart.

  Yeah, it absolutely is.

  Nevada

  “THOSE BASTARDS.” SYD’S HEAD hangs low as she shakes it nonstop and keeps her eyes fixed on the dusty ground beneath her boots.

  The Broods’ “Sleep Baby Sleep” echoes from the garage.

  I sit on the hood of the Nissan Skyline that’s parked in the junkyard.

  It’s ruined and raggedy.

  The fender is almost completely off the car and the engine is blown.

  It looks far different from the gleaming Mustang parked in the garage.

  The one I plan to make history with…

  Vashti insisted she come here after that debacle after the race and Banks was more than eager to join us, but I needed time alone. And Syd needed time to cool off even though she hasn’t. I didn’t want anyone around here to stoke the flames already simmering in Syd and cause her to have a coronary.

  I suck in the night air and breathe it all out.

  Craning my neck up to the night sky, I observe the twinkling stars up there finding them absolutely beautiful. Instead of celebrating this win tonight with a party, we’re here wallowing in regret and rage. Only Syd seems a bit more upset about being ripped off than I do.

  “You won that race, Nevada.” Syd points a finger at me and marches over.

  Pete follows.

  “But I would’ve taken the top five.” She tosses her cigarette away. “I won’t accept that you didn’t make it in the top five.” She sniffs the air loudly.

  I scrub Pete’s head. “I know I did, Syd, but it’s their league. They make the rules and they change them when and how they see fit.”

  Syd scrubs her face with her hands. “This isn’t right, Nevada.” She steps closer and cups my cheek, forcing me to look at her.

  “I know.” I give her a smile.

  Her eyes fill with tears. “I know how badly you want this.” She nods. “And I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen, but I’m going to make sure you get there.”

  I exhale, knowing Syd is referring to money.

  This woman has taken care of me all my life. We don’t have much. The garage takes care of itself. But, the majority of the money Syd makes goes into ensuring that her elderly father, who’s been in one of those nursing care facilities for as long as I can remember, remains well cared for.

  She pays me a salary too.

  She also has a mortgage to fulfil.

  There is no extra money to go around.

  “I’m going to find a way, Nevada. I promise you.” She smiles.

  I cover her hand with mine. “Syd, it’s okay. Please don’t. You’ve done enough for me.” I exhale, begging her with my eyes not to mortgage her house to fund my dream of a racing career that might just be unsustainable. “I need to find my own way, Syd.” I lift a shoulder. “It’s cool.”

  “This is so not fucking cool, Nevada.” She steps away from me and paces the junkyard. Pete follows. Syd points two fingers to the sky. “This is what they do, Nevada. They’ve never been willing to praise your talent. Those bastards in that league have always ignored your existence, but they see you!” She grits her teeth. “They fucking see you, believe me.”

  I know.

  “And then when they can’t ignore you anymore, they do whatever they can to snuff away from you what you undoubtedly deserve.”

  I know.

  “There are and have never been any write ups in The Press-Enterprise about you, Racehead.”

  I know.

  “There will be no public acknowledgement about how other drivers have stolen your techniques in the past and for certain in goddamn present.”

  I know.

  “They will treat you as if you’re infuckingvisible, while they reap the glory they don’t deserve.”

  I know.

  Syd laughs maniacally. “But if you were a fuck up, Nevada…If you were a female driver who couldn’t drive, and caused accidents, and didn’
t know your left indicator from your fucking right, they’d splash that shit all over town! If you made mistakes, the entire world would hear about them and would be willing to pour their two cents into the empty penny jar. They’d write shit about you for once. They’d scream about how terrible you are, Nevada. They would say something then, believe me.” She shudders. “But now that they know and can see you’re a gem, Nevada…” She marches back over to me and holds my head by the sides. “They say nooooothing.”

  I know.

  “They starve you of praise.” She strokes my cheek with her thumb. “They’re trying to discourage you, Nevada.” She swallows. “They’re trying to make you fucking quit.”

  “But, I would never do that, Syd.” My smile is half-hearted.

  “No, you won’t.” She nods, nods, nods and forces me to do it with her.

  “But, please don’t worry.” I stand and press a kiss to her cheek.

  Syd’s eyes are big with wonder when I snatch up my helmet and stroll over to the Kawasaki.

  I gesture her way with the helmet in my hand. “I’m just going for a ride, Syd, please don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back later.”

  “I love you, Nevada.” Her voice cracks. “I love you so much.”

  I know!

  “I love you too, Syd.” I toss a leg over the bike and kick the machine over.

  The engine starts up with a rumble. It rolls toward the gate that’s already open. I don’t waste two seconds to eyeball that gray car parked across the street when I pull in the clutch, put it in first gear and take off.

  If these bastards think they can keep me down, they had better try harder.

  Much fucking harder.

  ~

  I keep my head low, taking advantage of standard aerodynamics.

  The wind rushes over me as the ninja races along the highway.

  I dodge left then right through the cars, gearing down.

  This bad girl screams!

  A car.

  A van.

  Another car.

  A tractor trailer.

  The wind picks up as I twist the throttle and pass more vehicles.

  ZOOM. ZOOM. ZOOM. ZOOM. ZOOM.

  I change gears.

  The neon double yellow line in the highway flashes by my vision.