Chase You -1- Formula 1

56. Damn it, Daisy

A road trip on your own with no money or a charger couldn't end well, that's what I found out today. I took a random bus a few days ago and just waited until I was forced to go out of the damned vehicle. Now that I already missed my plane going back to London, it couldn't be the worst idea to travel even further through Canada. I stepped on some trains, walked a few miles, borrowed a bicycle, basically every method of transportation worked just fine. I have never been this active on a not-race week. Only used my phone for true emergencies, and when that was not the case, I just shut it off completely to prevent my battery from dying. I might've made one of the stupidest decisions of my life when I ran away, but nothing could compete against the night in the bar.

It started when I needed a place to stay and I happened to notice a 24/7 bar. I had slept in trains for the past few nights, so an actual roof above my head maybe prevented me from getting scared at every noise I've heard. There was no time for sleeping though. Apparently, this exact bar knew the worst customers you could ever imagine. They randomly started yelling at me and I didn't take any of their shit. I just enjoyed my iced tea while 'chatting' to some nice (and extremely pretty) girl. I had no clue why a person I couldn't remember pushed me off my stool. I had always learned from my mum to punch back, so I did and that all resulted in a bar fight. The police showed up and much to my protest, they took me with them to the police department.

I wasn't too keen since this wasn't the first time I had to wait for someone to bail me out. The problem was now, I had no clue who to call. The person I usually called, Lando, hadn't heard anything from me in days and the chance he already sat at home in London was big. I hesitated for a moment, but the first person who popped into my mind after Lando had to be George or Max, but I actually liked George, so I dialled his number.

"Hi my very nice acquaintance who is a much better driver than I am," I started. "Have I ever told you about how much I appreciate you, George? Even though we aren't friends anymore, I still consider you to have a lot of value in my life," I wanted to continue with all my words that weren't exactly lies, but George interrupted me.

"You are either drunk or this is a dare," He answered before yawning. "It's two in the morning, Dais, what do you need at this hour?"

I let out a deep sigh and crossed my fingers, hoping that he wouldn't get too mad. "I got involved in a bar fight and now I am in jail." I heard George gasp from the other side of the line. "So if you happen to be in Canada still, please bail me out? I will pay you back, I promise."

George groaned, but against my expectation, he wanted to pick me up. "You owe me one, Mayfield." I nodded and paused for a moment. I glanced at the officer who sat on his desk, tapping on his watch. I told George I needed to hang up the phone. "Dais, stay there, I will be right with you. Don't get into too much trouble. I love you okay, see you soon."

"Thank you so much!" I exclaimed. "I love you too." I hung up the phone and went back to the cell I shared with people that honestly scared the living shit out of me, their faces filled with bruises and blood and they stank, like pee and alcohol. I didn't look the sweetest either since I had a black eye and a few bruises and scrapes all over my body. Luckily, none of it did really hurt a lot, of course, the bruises ached a little when I put pressure on it, but nothing that actually bothered me so much that it was worth mentioning.

"Who's picking you up?" The same officer that sat nervously on his desk before asked. "Your boyfriend?" I shook my head. First, I wanted to start an argument considering the fact he automatically assumed I talked to a boy and I could easily have a girlfriend instead. Then I remembered I spoke George his name out loud so the assumption wasn't that weird.

"George," I mumbled, I didn't feel like talking to the police. They annoyed me for some reason. I turned my back to the officer and leaned against the bars, it wasn't the most comfortable place to sit, but I for sure knew I didn't look approachable. I always had 'suffered' from a resting bitch face, which in this case came in handy.