One For The Road

22: Images

I was stupid. Very, very stupid.

After nearly getting killed by Sacrilege, I made the stupid decision to open up. Who in their right mind would ever do that? How frazzled was I?

And Drake just encouraged me the entire time. I would have rather had him walk in on me while I was naked. At least I looked pretty good like that. No one looked good talking about stupid shit they've been through.

As much as I wanted to pack all of my things and flee back to Baton Rouge, I couldn't let myself. I let myself be vulnerable around Drake, and if anyone mentioned it from that point on, I would just make a giant scene. That way, they would learn to shut up about it.

I had already run away once (which was obviously with good reason). I couldn't bring myself to do it again.

Fortunately, I had my stupid moment right when Sacrilege needed fixed, so everyone was distracted by that. Drake and Josiah were out in the garage, and metallic clinks rang all throughout the house. If the situation weren't so dire, I probably would have offered an extra set of hands, but tensions were high especially after our esteemed leader didn't listen to our tolerated jackass.

For once, I wasn't number one on Josiah's Worst People Alive list. If only I gave a shit.

With the Cleveland tournament on the horizon, it wasn't clear whether we'd have a perfect robot to compete. But that didn't really bother me. Truscott gave me a shitty car for the All-Star Race and I still made that work. Instead, I was more worried about the whole Cleveland part. It was a shithole, and I tried to avoid Ohio for obvious reasons.

If I had to pick my least favorite place in the world, though, it still would have been Talladega. And Michigan.

Annie was working late at the craft shop to bring in a little extra money. Old habits die hard, I supposed. I was left without anyone's supervision, and no one would even notice if I slipped out and never came back—

No, Katie.

But since everyone else was occupied, I realized that I never got the chance to explore London, Ontario. It seemed like a cute place (for Canada, at least), and there had to have been something going on in town. I wasn't tied to the Sacrilege house like I was before because I had my car, and I needed something to get my mind away from everything.

I had never spent so much time stressing in the past, and I would have been damned if I did it now. With stress came wrinkles and heart attacks. No thanks.

I headed out the front door and to my car, and even though I had no idea where exactly I was going, I headed off. That was just how I liked to live.

When I went out, I usually ended up in a sports bar, and this was no exception. People who had nothing besides an unhealthy love of competition and good times were just my type, and they seemed to know me. I never paid for drinks, courtesy of all the men who knew damn well they didn't have a shot with me. Maybe things would be different in Canada, but probably not. There was an empire built on my name, and Katie Moore knew it.

There were TV screens that lit up the dark with all the summer tournaments of hockey games (seriously, Canada?), soccer, Formula One, tennis, baseball, and finally, some hype for the next NASCAR race. Tyler Bailey sat with the hosts of NASCAR Tonight, and just like usual, he didn't smile at all while he talked. It was like he was allergic to having any sort of fun.

Jackass.

The dialogue popped up on the bottom of the screen in black boxes. I didn't go out for a fucking reading lesson, and everything that came out of his lying mouth was irrelevant anyway.