Guns and Mirrors

TWENTY-ONE

♕Harley Anderson♕

Images of crashing into a tree flash across my mind and I struggle to keep my hands firmly on the steering wheel. My foot sits on the accelerator as I overtake my opponents car but when she attempts to push me off of the road, I swerve out of the way.

"Fuck." I hiss as I see her car take the lead. Without much thought I step on the gas, trailing just behind my opponent's car for a few meters before I overtake her abruptly. She slams brakes behind me and I let out a stressed sigh as I check in my review mirror.

Even though I'm in the lead, the tight ball of stress and anxiety in my chest doesn't seem to ease up. There is no excitement or determination pulsating through my veins, there is nothing but fear and adrenaline. I try focus on the blurring of the scenery around me instead of the coil of nerves and even though it helps, I still can't shake myself. However, after I've crossed the finish line, I lean my head against the car seat in relief.

When I remove my hands from the wheel, they tremble vigorously and I purse my lips. I'm transported back to where I am and the crowd cheering outside, slapping on the hood and roof of my car. Nervously, I climb out and into the humid air. I wish it was cold. Maybe then I would feel a little better.
The crowd forms a circle around my opponent and I and when the lady with a shaved hair climbs out, there's a bitter scowl on her face.

"Well, would you look at that- the new comer is the fucking winner!" The man who calls up the racers says and the crowd laughs and cheers. The sleazy man comes up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I fight against the urge to shrug it off. "Your winner- Harley!"

The cheers and shouts are not as loud as they would have been if I wasn't a new racer but they're loud enough to shake me to my core and make me realize I won.

I won my first fucking race, after nearly a year of been unable to get behind the damn wheel and do what I love most.

Maybe these aren't the circumstances that I wanted to start racing in but at least I'm racing. Maybe this is what I needed- maybe I needed to be forced behind the wheel. Because right now I feel exhilarated. And I don't know when last I felt that.

"Here ya go missy." The woman snaps me out of my daze by extending a brown envelope towards me. I take it from her brittle fingers that have cracked nails and torn up cuticles. With a glance inside I say: "Are you sure it's seventy?"

The lady's yellow teeth are shown as she sneers. "If ya don't believe me, count it yourself girl. But I ain't no cheating whore."

I don't bother to answer her, sealing the envelope and pushing my way through the crowd. If there's money short, Isaac will deal with it. It's not my problem and I won't let it be.

Isaac is already waiting for me outside of the crowd with Cyrus standing beside him on one side and Lina on the other. The two men stop talking and I avoid glancing at Cyrus as I hand over the money to Isaac. "It's seventy. Or, at least, it's supposed to be."

His large brown hands take it from me and he peaks inside before nodding, eyes sliding up and down my body. "You did better than I expected. I'll give you that." He says and I roll my eyes.

"A simple 'good job' would suffice." I remark sarcastically and Isaac scowls as I make a move to walk away. I'm almost certain I've escaped the unpleasant company when a hand wraps around my forearm and stops me from going any further. I glance at the hand before meeting the gaze of who it belongs to, realising that Cyrus followed me. With a fiery look, I pull away.

"I just wanted to say that you killed it. You were great out there." Cyrus says, green eyes soft and hopeful. Hopeful that I'll take the compliment and give him a grateful smile.