Page 27 of Furious
I throw my phone in the basket, more eager than ever to show Fox that a lot of things might have changed in the past two years, but Chance and I can still beat him on the tarmac.
“Suit yourself.” I level her with a hard stare. “But when he fucks you over, don’t come crying to us.”
Chapter 7
Wanna Bet?
CHANCE
After I surrender my phone, Cal explains the rules.
“We added some extra distance from last week’s track, so there are a few curves and it isn’t just a straight line. We all start from the same position and the winner is the first bike that crosses the finish line. It’s gonna be over pretty quickly, it’s just a five-mile stretch. The rest of the rules are that there are no rules. You can cut in front of others to get in the way and overtake them. If your bike veers off the asphalt, you’re out. Every participant has to pay a fee of a hundred bucks. If you don’t finish the race, you owe two hundred as a penalty. You’re not allowed to bet on the race for obvious reasons. We don’t want you to lose on purpose now, do we? Dave is taking notice of the bets and has the odds.”
This sounds even worse than I thought. “Why should I be charged to race when I was challenged to do so? I thought this was just a double or nothing from last week.”
Cal’s shrewd expression doesn’t promise anything good. “You’re charged because we’re taking a risk by organizing this and bringing equipment like lights and stuff to mark the racetrack.” He points to a number of empty barrels spread outat regular intervals on the stretch of abandoned road. “This shit will also have to be removed every week, so we keep this little venture from becoming public knowledge.”
“Your brother never said anything about a fee. I didn’t bring any cash.” I challenge him.
“I’m not worried about that. You’re gonna lose anyway, so you’re gonna have to pay for your bet. We know where you live.”
I’m gonna teach this motherfucker a lesson he’s never going to forget.
“Hey Cal,” Dave comes over with a notepad in his hand. “We need to change Chance and Lev’s odds. We were assuming they would race the bikes we provided, but it looks like they brought their own.”
Cal looks at our bikes for the first time. “Yeah. What’s up, you didn’t trust me to give you a fair shake?”
I point out his Beamer. “If I remember right, that’s the bike you used to race in the Supreme Bikes League, right? You’d cross the finish line even before the old beat up motorcycles Dave gave us last week could start.”
He barks out a laugh. “I guess I’ll have to beat you fair and square, huh? Cool, victory will be even sweeter.”
I swear to God, this asshole has the biggest ego in the state.
Lev hates him just as much as I do. “You know what, Fox? All I hear is talk. Let’s see what you can do on the track. Maybe you won’t be so chatty after you finish behind us, like you always did.”
“Let’s go.”
He sounds very sure of himself. That raises all sorts of red flags in my mind.
As we take our spot at the starting line, I lean to talk to Lev. “Who are we racing against? I don’t know half of these people.”
He looks around. “You’re right. I recognize two guys from Fox’s old team and one guy goes to our school. He’s on thefootball team. I’m not sure who the others are, but I think we should watch each other’s backs. You know how Fox rolls.”
He’s right, but I’m confident about my skills and my MTT 420-RR is one of the fastest bikes in the world. Cal’s BMW S1000 RR has a lower top speed.
Obviously, the top speed isn’t the only factor in winning a race. Here we have no mechanics, no spare tires, no safety barriers. Anything could go wrong, even with a short five mile stretch.
I’m also sure that Cal knows the track like the back of his own hand at this point. Probably the other racers, too.
I assumed that we would race the same distance as last week, so I didn’t bother coming out here to check it out. Fuck it.
I can handle a curve or two. I vaguely remember this road from when we came out here with the Boy Scouts looking for old arrowheads. There are a couple of curves a couple of miles down from here, before coming into view of the old gas station.
Lev knows that too, so I focus on starting my bike and waiting for the start signal.
The noise of the engines covers every other sound around us; from the noises of the woods to the excited chatter of the people who came to bet on the race.
The only thing louder than our motorcycle engines is the beating of my heart that’s thumping loud in my ears.
