Racing Home

I sat in the driver's seat as Nick explained to me to watch the oil pressure dial. I didn't observe half the words he said to me. I was busy preparing myself mentally for the race.

I started the engine, glanced over at Nick, who was standing next to the Beamer.

He made a thumbs-up sign.

I put the car in gear and torpedoed off. I took the same route in which Alan did a few minutes earlier.

When we got to the traffic lights back in Cheshunt, where the race will start. We slowly drove to the signal lights as they were changing from amber to red.

Both cars were side by side, inches away from the white line road marking. Alan and I waited patiently for the lights to go green. I took a quick glimpse at my rear-view mirror. Behind us, a black Range Rover took half of Alan's lane and half of mine. The driver's job was to make sure neither one started before the lights changed to green. He gazed at our vehicles' like an eagle studies its prey. I returned my concentration to what was ahead of me. I waited for the traffic lights to change colour.

When the lights changed to amber then green, they reflected on my car's bonnet, making my reaction faster. I released the clutch. At the same time, my other foot went down on the accelerator. Both vehicles shot off together at the same time. Alan, somewhat ahead of me. The race hadn't begun yet. I was in third gear when I went past the speed camera. The Beamer was cruising at 40mph, which was the speed limit. Alan was beside me, doing at a similar speed. I stared at the white speed camera markings, waiting to see the last one. Both cars were getting nearer the final white line. As I drove over it, I floored it. The engine roared, at the same time, the Beamers rear wheels gripped the tarmac.

There was no flash from the speed camera. The race was on.

We both sped down the A10, pushing our cars to see who would go ahead of the other. I was averaging a speed of 130 mph for almost two miles. Alan on the lane next to me was doing at a similar pace. Abruptly, Alan's Beamer shot off. Within a couple of seconds, he was ten metres ahead of me. I floored it, making the rev counter needle jump nearer to the red mark. The speedometer flew to 150mph. I was closing the gap between the two cars. With a half-mile to go, I passed Alan. A quick glimpse at my instrument panel showed the temperature gauge was as expected, and the oil pressure light was off. I pushed my foot on the accelerator. I wanted to humiliate Alan. Suddenly, the revs dropped dramatically, bringing the cars speed to 130 mph. I wasn't more than twenty metres away from the flyover when Alan flew past me, going under the flyover first.

The race was over. I'm the one who got humiliated. If I had not pushed the car, maybe this wouldn't have occurred. Better to win by a small margin than lose.

I pulled over, where Nick was standing. His head was down in defeat. "I told you not to push it, Mike!" he yelled.

Alan paraded in victory around the crowd, receiving remarks from everyone about his car and skilful driving. Once the uproar was over, he made his way towards Nick and me.

With his hand reached out, he said, "I think you guys owe me £500." He looked at our car and smirked. "I hope you can get your piece of crap started to get it to the scrap yard." He began to chuckle with the masses of people around him.

With a quick diagnose of the car. We decided that it was ok to drive it back home. On the way, neither of us exchanged conversation. Initially, I would stay around Nicks for the weekend, but I asked him to drive me home. Bringing the car to a halt outside my house, we sat in silence for a few moments.

"You shouldn't have forced the car that much, Mike. I can't imagine how much damage it caused the engine?" he said with pain in his voice.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I got out of the car.

I shuffled to the front door of the house, not turning around. I heard the engine start. It didn't sound too good. God knows how much damage I had done.

When I got inside, all the lights were out. Everyone was asleep. I had a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was a confrontation with Frank. I went straight to my bedroom. Taking off my clothes, I threw them into the laundry basket. Climbing into bed, I tossed and turned, thinking of the race, getting flashbacks of Alan overtaking me. It took me an hour to drift off to sleep.

Chapter 3

My head was much clearer in the morning, even though I only had a few hours of sleep. After having a shower, I felt fully awake and ready to make amends for what transpired the night before. I grasped my smartphone from the bedside cabinet. For a moment, I gazed at the screen. I was floundering in calling Nick. What if he doesn't want to speak to me? I needed to compose myself on what to say to him. I took a deep breath and sat down on my desk chair before pressing the fast dial button.

After a few rings, he answered. "Hey mate, good morning," Nick gleefully said. I could barely hear his voice from the noise in the background.

"Good morning, Nick," I replied, querying why he was so cheerful.

"Mike, it was the 'Mass Airflow Sensor", he screamed with delight. "I have been working on the car since seven this morning. I removed the sensor and inspected it. You can't imagine how much crap I dug out, which was blocking the airflow. I gave it a good clean before re-installing it. Now the car runs fine, but we'll need to replace the sensor."

"What about the race? I lost the race?" I responded.

"We'll get them next time. I'm sorry." He was speechless for a while. "I overreacted last night."

I was quiet this time. I thought I had lost my best friend last night.

"Mike, we're good right," Nick said, with anxiety in his voice. "Is it ok if I come around your house? We can go together and buy the airflow sensor for the car."

"That will be good. That will be perfect!" I shouted into my smartphone.

Swivelling the desk chair around to face my laptop, I pressed the power button on the device. I impatiently waited for it to start up. 'I need to get myself a new laptop when I get my student funding in September,' I thought to myself while I waited. Once it was ready, I opened Mozilla, guiding the trackpad pointer to the bookmark's car parts shop. I did a quick search for a mass airflow sensor for our car. When I found the part, it showed in bold red, 'one in stock'. The price was £129.95.

I checked my wallet to make sure that my debit card was in it. Then I remembered I had exchanged the money I had in my account for Euro for our trip. I checked my bank app on my smartphone to see how much money I had in my bank account. There were only fifty pounds in my savings account. It wasn't enough for the car part we needed. I pulled the desk drawer open to take one hundred euros from the travel money I had. When I lifted the Europe guidebook, which was on top of the envelope with the money. My eyes widened when I noticed it wasn't there. I emptied the drawer. Still, there was no envelope. I removed everything from the other drawer's. The cash was gone.

I turned and stared at the bedroom door for a moment. "Frank!" I yelled as loud as I could.

I was out of my room in a flash and rushed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. I could hear whistling. It was coming from the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen, I knocked a chair aside, which was in my path. Frank was preparing something on the counter. He had his back to me.

"Where is it, Frank?" I yelled.

He paused what he was doing. "Where is what, Mikey?" he sarcastically said.

"My money, Frank? Where is my money?" I could feel the heat on my cheeks from my rage.

He carried on with what he was doing, with his back still turned. "Ask your mother when she gets back. She's gone shopping. Maybe she took it," he sneeringly laughed.

I went behind him and clutched his shoulder to turn him around. He swiftly turned and buried his fist into my abdomen. I went down on one knee.

"I took the money, you little shit! Do you think you're going to stay here for free!" he screamed down at me.

I looked up at him. He was standing over me, inches away. He had his hands rolled into fists. I kept my balance by pressing onto the floor with my left palm. I used it to force myself up as I rushed forward, like an athlete starting a sprint race. I went headfirst into Frank's gut. He didn't know what hit him. We both went flying back onto the kitchen table.

I was on top of him, pinning him down. I had my left hand wrapped around his neck. The other hand was up in the air, formed into a fist. "Where is my money, Frank?" I yelled.

He just stared at me.

My fist came crashing into the side of his face. I could see the Fear in his eyes, but still, there was no answer. The second blow came down, striking the side of his nose. There was a crunching sound, followed by a flow of blood. I repeated myself with more anger in my voice, "Where is my fucking money, Frank?"

He struggled to get away, but I held him down. He managed to free himself from my grasp, scrambling out of the kitchen towards the house entrance. I vaulted over the table, pursuing after him, a few strides behind him as he opened the front door. I stormed into his side. We both went toppling onto the front lawn. I tried to clutch him again, but he was booting and pushing me back in a frenzy to get away.

"Come here, you spineless bastard!" I screamed.

Abruptly, I felt someone dragging me back. It was two of my neighbours striving to hold me down from attacking Frank. I shrugged them off, but it was too late. Frank was already halfway down the road. I stood there, clutching my sides as I tried to catch my breath as I watched the coward run away.

A few of the neighbours came out of their houses. Their eyes glued on me. The guys who pulled me off tried to establish what occurred by asking me questions. When I waved them off, they let me be. They both went back to what they were doing in their front gardens.

I didn't go back inside. I sat on the front doorstep until Nick came. When he arrived, he parked the Beamer in front of the house and got out of the car. Nick made his way towards me. As he approached me, the smile on his face faded away, turning into shock when he saw me.

"Is that your blood on your T-Shirt, Mike?" Nick worriedly said. He sat beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

My chin dropped down to my chest to check my T-shirt. "No, it's Frank's blood." I tried to wipe it off.

"What happened, Mike?"

"He took my money, Nick. He stole my fucking money. When I approached him to give it back, he denied that he had taken it at first. Then he dared to tell me it was for my living expenditure. So I kicked the shit out of him."

"Wow, where is he....?"

Nick didn't have the chance to finish his sentence when two police cars pulled over and stopped in the middle of the street. Blue lights were flashing on and off. Frank was in one of the vehicles, in the back seat with two police officers in the front. From the other police car, two officers climbed out of it. They unceremoniously strolled towards the house, stopping a couple of metres in front of us.

"Good morning, gentlemen," the older officer said. "Which one of you young men is Michael Porter?"

I slowly got up. "That would be me, officer, "I said, the tone of my voice a murmur.

The senior official said, "My name is Sargent Wright." Indicating to the officer next to him, he continued, "This is Officer Smith." Who looked not much older than me. Removing a small notepad and a pen out of his pocket, Sargent Wright said, "what happened, son." I told him briefly, what occurred, as he took notes. Once we finished, he closed the notepad. He took a deep breath before he spoke, "You will need to come with us to the station, Michael."

I nodded my head.

After removing a pair of handcuffs from his vest pocket, he turned me around and put them on my wrists. "That's not too tight, is it?" he asked.

I slowly shook my head.

"Is that necessary, Sargent?" Nick protested.

"Don't worry, Nick. Call my mom and tell her what happened," I said while being escorted to the police car. Frank sat in the other car with a smirk on his face as he observed what was happening.

Nothing was said by neither of us on the journey to the police station. When we reached our destination, the officer driving was instructed by Sargent Wright to park the vehicle in the station's courtyard, near the back entrance of the building. I got out of the police car, and I noticed the other vehicle with Frank inside didn't follow us. Sargent Wright led the way, with me following, while Officer Smith was behind me. After climbing some steps and along a narrow corridor, we arrived at some offices. After seeing the nameplate on the desk with 'Sargent Wright' engraved on it, I presumed it was the Sargent's office. Officer Smith removed the handcuff while Sargent Wright sat behind the desk, most of it covered in files. On the left corner of the table sat a monitor and a keyboard. The Sargent ordered me to take a seat opposite him.

He asked me for my full name, including any middle name, date of birth, and other details he would need to find me on their database. He typed in all the information as he studied the screen. Once he was finished, he sat back and rubbed his neck while staring at the monitor then at me.

"Tea or Coffee, Michael?" he asked.

"Coffee, please, sir," I responded.

"Two coffees, John," Sargent Wright said. Officer Smith rushed out of the office to get the beverages.

"I don't understand, Michael. Polite guy, no criminal record, one year left at university, and you go and do that to your stepdad." He did some more tapping on the keyboard. I watched him read at whatever was on the screen as his fingers danced more on the keyboard. He turned and looked at me. "On the other hand, I can write a book with your stepdads record."

Our coffees arrived.

"Sargent Wright looked at his watch. He said to Officer Smith, "John, your shift is over, enjoy the rest of the day."

"Sargent, if it's ok, I would like to stay?"

"Close the door behind you while you're leaving, John." The Sargent ordered the young officer. Officer Smith didn't say anything else; he turned and hurried out of the room.

I was alone with Sargent Wright. He waited a minute before he spoke. "What happened, son? I want to know everything." He took a sip of his hot beverage as he leaned back on his chair.

"Everything?" I said.

"My shift doesn't finish for another four hours." He put a small recorder on his desk and pressed the red button. He then leaned back and folded his hands across his chest. "I want to know everything," he repeated himself.

From the day Frank came into our lives, almost eight years ago, what he did to my mom and me. How terrified my mother was of him. I was frightened of him when I was younger, but no more. I explained to him everything. I mentioned my planned trip with Nick, and when I found that my money was missing. That's when I lost it and did what I did.

Sargent Wright scratched his chin in deep thought. He leaned forward and took the recorder, pressed the stop button and dropped the device in the desk drawer. For a moment, there was a stillness in the room. He reached back and rubbed his neck like something was irritating him. He finally spoke, "This is what I see happening, Michael. He's going to try and put you away for grievous bodily harm. Tonight you will need to spend the night here, in a cell. Tomorrow we will see the outcome when he comes, with his solicitor."

I nodded my head. I never visited a police station, not alone, stayed overnight.

"Have you eaten, son?" Sargent Wright asked.

It was nearly four in the afternoon. Food was the last thing on my agenda. I just shook my head.

Sargent Wright called another officer. He was young as well. The officer took me to the basement of the station, where they held all the prisoners. A buzzer sounded before the large metal door unlocked then finally opened. A long corridor led to all the cells. There was the sound of whistling and shouting coming from the cells ahead. The young officer who escorted me to the basement handed me over to the guard. He took my arm and led me to one of the open cells.

"I hope we won't get any trouble from you as we get from these lot?" the guard warned me and then half-pushed me inside the cell. There was more whistling and screaming from the inmates.

The buzzer sounded, we both turned towards the main door. "Michael won't give you any trouble, Gary." It was Sargent Wright. "Make sure he has something to eat. The lad hasn't had anything to eat all day."

"Yes, Sargent," the guard said. The door to the cell closed behind me.

The room was narrow and long. It had a small metal bed on one wall. The mattress on it wasn't more than an inch thick. In the far end was a metal lavatory, a washbasin made of metal as well. I dropped in a sitting position on the bed, leaned down and began to sob. I didn't know what time it was when the door opened. Wiping my eyes with my arms, I looked to see who it was. It was the guard with a tray of food. He smiled and handed it over to me.

After my meal, I lay on the bed. Within seconds I was fast asleep. It was the sound of the lock on the door that woke me up. All groggy, I said to the guard, "Has my mother come to visit me?"

"That's why I am here, son. I'll be back in ten minutes. Get washed up and ready." The guard gestured me towards the washbasin.

When I was ready, the guard took me back upstairs to one of the interrogation rooms. I concluded it was an interrogation room from its layout. It had a table in the middle of the room, all four legs bolted to the concrete floor, with two chairs on either side. I sat on one of the chairs, facing the entrance to the room. Looking around me, I noticed the walls and the ceiling were the same colour. The dull concrete grey you get on pavements slabs.

When the door finally opened, Sargent Wright walked in; close behind him was my mother. I quickly got up and rushed towards her. I embraced her. She hugged me tighter. I could feel her tears on my shoulder as she shivered. The Sargent didn't say or do anything. He waited for our emotions to subside. When my mother settled down, we took a seat -- Sargent Wright and my mother on one side and me opposite them.

"Oh, Michael, what have you done?" My mother sobbed.

"It wasn't my..." I didn't finish my sentence when I saw Sargent Wright shaking his head slowly. "What do I do now, mom?" I said.

Mom didn't say anything. She just looked at me.

Sargent Wright spoke, "I had a word with Frank's solicitor, Michael. He wants you out of the house, or he'll take the case to Crown Court. I shouldn't be saying this to you, but Frank's got a good solicitor. You might get up to two years in prison."

"Mum, why don't you throw him out of the house?" I yelled at my mother.

"Your mother doesn't want you to go to prison, Michael! The Sargent screamed back at me. "He wants you out of the house, or he'll crucify you."

I nodded my head.

I stayed another night at the station. The police officers didn't mistreat me while I was there, but being locked up in a cell all night is not pleasant.

The next day I was woken up by Sargent Wright. He handed me a coffee. "Get ready. We meet Frank and his solicitor in half-hour," he said.

An hour later, I was in the same interrogation room I was the day before. This time I had Sargent Wright seated next to me. I felt more comfortable with him by my side.

The door swung open. A police officer entered and stood by the door. Frank walked in, his nose bandaged and his left eye swollen closed. Next to him was his solicitor in a tailored suit. He was swaying a briefcase. The two of them, in synchronisation, sat on the chairs opposite us. Frank stared at me. I stared back at him with one eye closed, deliberately. I could see the rage in his face as it went red. I shuffled in my seat, scrapping the chair's legs on the concrete surface. The loud screeching sound made Frank push himself back. He almost tumbled over.