Killa was exhausted after her final, so she went home, threw herself on her bed and immediately fell asleep. When she woke up, it was already dark outside. Rolling over, she checked out the time-11 PM already? She was supposed to go the Library and meet her study group at midnight; tomorrow's exam was at 8AM so they'd pull an allnighter at the Library and then walk over to the exam together. Man, she wouldn't be worth crap tomorrow at practice, oh well, Kadoya would have to deal with it. Killa lay on her bed and thought about Two for a few minutes.
Part of what scared her about the kiss was her own initial reaction to it- she'd enjoyed the way it felt for a split-second, then she'd gotten mad that he would act that way at the dojo. And after she stomped his foot to get him to quit, he wouldn't, in fact he got worse. He did quit when she started crying, which was better than Kolby, and he had seemed genuinely sorry and bewildered. She thought about what he said after he let her go, his tone of voice; it was all very confusing. How could he not know that she wanted him to let her go? Didn't he know that no means no?
She was still attracted to him, which disgusted her that she would feel that towards someone who was obviously a royal jerk. Plus, she was attracted to his brother equally, which was weird, although he didn't seem to be as attracted to her. That would be her luck; the jerk brother would like her, while the nice one would want to be friends. "I'll just avoid Two as much as possible." She said to herself, then immediately realized that would be difficult now that they were both going to be her teacher. And she still needed to talk to Kadoya about what happened, she dreaded that, but knew that Kadoya needed to know. What if the guy tried that on another student and they filed sexual harassment charges? Kadoya could get in a lot of trouble, maybe lose his business. Great. She'd deal with it tomorrow.
Grabbing her robe, she headed down to the bathroom. After a long hot shower, she dressed and headed downstairs to get something to eat. "Hey, Killa, that guy Randall, called for you. He has a job for you. He said to call him back, no matter how late, " her roommate Cal called out as she rounded the stairs. "Ok, Cal, thanks."
Randall was a friend of hers from high school. He'd always been in trouble, and was, from what she could tell, still in trouble, just had gotten a lot better at not getting caught. They became friends when she took advanced art and accidentally found out he couldn't read. He was an amazing artist, but he couldn't follow written directions at all, so the teacher, Mrs. Lipscombe, a real witch, was always ragging on him.
At first Killa thought he didn't follow directions just to piss Lips off, but after a while she figured out he couldn't-- he didn't know what they meant. So she started teaching him herself after school; it's not like anyone else was going to do it, and she kind of liked him even if she didn't agree with what he said a lot of the time. Randall believed in survival of the fittest-kill or be killed, Social Darwinism crap, although he wouldn't call it that, he'd just say "Better them than me, the strong survive."
At first he only went along with it to try to get in her pants, he thought she must have a thing for him, a lot of girls did-the whole bad boy act. But after a couple of weeks he realized she was serious. And she realized that he really did want to learn, he'd just missed out on a lot of school. He was enrolled in school for the first time when he was nine; his mom finally died from a drug overdose, and his existence was discovered. Before that, Randall just stayed inside the house. Nobody even knew that a kid lived there, because Randall's mother wouldn't let him go outside.
He was pretty messed up, and things hadn't gotten a whole lot better when he'd become a ward of the state. He told her his story in bits and pieces, along with threats that he'd "Fing kill her if she ever told anyone about this." Killa never repeated anything he'd told her, she was great at keeping secrets because she was curious about people. People told Killa amazing things all the time, she just seemed trustworthy and, maybe more important, interested.
At first he wanted to pay her for tutoring him. Killa looked at him like he was crazy, "You're my friend Randall, you know, 'friends,' the people you do stuff for because you like them, not because you want something back?" He didn't believe her; kept expecting her to freak out, cheat him, run off, use him, something. "I like tutoring you Randall, I don't know, it's fun, ok? Maybe I want to be a teacher. Leave it alone, ok?" So for the last three years of high school she tutored him three times a week after school for an hour or so. None of her other friends, except Toby who kept his mouth shut, even knew she did it, they both kept it quiet; Randall because it wouldn't be "cool" to be around her, and sure not cool to be being tutored by the resident brainiac, Killa because she figured he wanted her to. She felt so proud when he graduated, almost like a big sister, except he was older than her by three years.
All through high school it was their secret friendship where they could both be themselves. Killa could talk to Randall about anything; any way she wanted--she didn't feel like she had to be nice all the time. Randall could talk to her about how he felt without fear of her making fun of him. He'd helped her change, become more confident, cooler, tougher, better able to take care of herself. He nicknamed her "Killer" when they first became friends partly because of her name and partly as a joke because "she was the biggest Fing goody two shoes he'd ever met." If she hadn't been friends with Randall, she might have gone along with Kolby, let him treat her bad.
Randall, the first time he saw the bruises from when Kolby had "sparred" with her-more like taken the opportunity to beat the crap out of her, didn't do what Toby'd done, holler about how he was going to kill Kolby, Randall gave her a long look and said "You can do better than that, Killer. Put him in check or cut him loose. He's YOUR bitch-don't let him forget it." She'd laughed and appreciated that he trusted her to deal with her own problems. She found out later though that Randall planned to kill Kolby, really kill him, if she hadn't managed to deal with him herself. That had scared her a little bit.
When he was in town, they hung out together a fair bit, Randall always came up with cool stuff to do. Him, Toby and her were hell on wheels when they all got together. Randall still kept in touch by email when he was out of town; every few months there would be a message from him. And, occasionally, he had a job for her; he knew she needed the money for college. Most of what he did was illegal and Killa didn't want to know the particulars, but sometimes he had work that was well-paid and perfectly legal, document courier work mostly. She figured this was why he was calling her; she hoped it wasn't about Andy again.
A few weeks ago she'd won a bike in a street race. Killa had mostly quit racing because she was too busy with school. This year she hadn't raced at all, until this last one. The prize was too good to pass up, and the guy who'd challenged her, Andy, couldn't ride anyway, he just had a lot of money. Plus, it was sort of a grudge match. She knew him from high school as well, he was a prick who'd made fun of her constantly, her old clothes, her good grades, everything.
Then Randall taught her to ride a bike, and they'd both been amazed at how quickly she got good, really good. Randall "borrowed" her first racing bike from a "friend" and told her she better not lose. She didn't, she won a sweet little Kawasaki and was hooked. Randall gave her a cut of the money he'd won by betting on her and put her in touch with a good mechanic. The mechanic modified the Kawasaki and made it even faster. Street racing had paid for the all the college and living expenses that her scholarships didn't cover; her parents didn't have enough money to help her, but made too much for government grants.
At first, it bothered her to take the other rider's bike when they lost, but, as Randall pointed out and as she came to find out later when she lost some races herself, the other guy would take her bike and not even blink. She won much more than she lost, so it was a good deal for her, and she loved it, loved the speed, and loved the competition.
The first time she raced Andy, the guy who'd tormented her regularly in school, she defeated him brutally-the guy was afraid to take corners fast, and didn't have a good feel for his bike. After the race, he tried to keep his bike; first he gave her a lame story about how he couldn't afford another one, then, when that didn't work, asked "What are you going to do about it, girly?" She punched him out, Randall taught her how to do that too, a quick hard hit to the nose usually took out most people, especially if you followed it up by one to the jaw.
She was surprised when he went down, then worried until she saw him trying to get back up. Of course everyone laughed at him and she felt terrible, she'd just lost her temper with him. Someone helped her wheel the bike over to Randall's truck and told her to leave before Andy's friends showed up. Randall laughed, rubbed her head and told her she was a badass. She didn't feel like a badass, she felt plain bad for hurting and humiliating Andy even if he was a jackass. She hadn't realized she was that mad at him, but when he called her "girly," it was like she hit him automatically, without any thought for the consequences.
After that, he hated her. He continued picking on her in school, at least when his friends were around, and tried to cause trouble for her as much as possible. Every time they were at the same race, he would challenge her and lose. His bikes got bigger and bigger, faster and faster, but he still lost because he didn't know how to manage fear. Killa rarely felt any, she didn't know why, sometimes it seemed unreal to her, the thought of her getting hurt, like this was a dream and she could snap her fingers and be ok. She'd had a few spills, but every time emerged with nothing but a few scratches and some glorious rainbow colored bruises, it just wasn't a big deal. Whatever the reason, she was fearless and skilled.
He never beat her. The bike she had now came from him, a three-year-old Ninja. It was a sweet bike, but no longer top of the line. It wasn't just that she didn't have time to race this past year, the age of the bike had something to do with it too, as well as the fact that she had already won enough money to barely finish her last year of college. Med school was a snap, she could get money for that; she already had a line on several full scholarships. So, basically, she quit because she didn't want to push her luck, lose her one means of out of town transportation or, worse, end up being caught by the cops. So far she'd been really lucky.
Then Andy emailed her and challenged her to a race. At first she said no way, she knew he'd have a better bike than her. Then she checked around and found out he'd just bought a new Ninja ZX-10R, in black with silver trim, beautiful. Gorgeous bike, super fast, oooh, she wanted it, but knew her bike was no match for it at all, no way. But he emailed back and said she could pick the race location, time, and day. Killa considered it, she knew he hadn't been as good of a rider last year, but he had improved each year, so he was probably better than she remembered. She, on the other hand, hadn't raced at all, so her reflexes were sure to be rusty. Hmm.
She emailed him back that she could meet him a month after school. He said no way, he would be in Europe and then gave a set of dates to choose from, all of them in the month before finals. So that was how this was going to go? He'd make sure she didn't have time to get in any real practicing before the race. All right. So she picked the location she knew he was most terrified of, Oceanside, a curving two-lane road full of switchbacks, prone to rockslides and loose gravel, bounded on one side by sheer rock and the other by a drop to the beach below. Then she picked 2AM as the time, consulted the weather forecast and lunar cycle, and picked the day most likely to rain in the next week with the least amount of moonlight. She thought he'd say no.
He didn't. The day of the race came in a driving rainstorm on a moonless night. Even Killa felt a little scared, the wind was blowing in unpredictable and powerful gusts-it would be easy to get blown off the road. She got there early and ran through the course once, slowly, just to get a feel for it, and had been blown within inches of the edge on the last curve. Adrenalin was still pumping through her body. They met alone, just him and her, also dangerous as hell-no one to call an ambulance, no one to help if things went wrong. She thought he wouldn't show, but he did.
One of Killa's real faults was her inability to back down from a challenge. She had been one of those little kids you could dare to stick their hand in a snake hole and would do it, do it even after being bit in the past. This was one of those times. She opened her mouth to suggest they meet sometime when the weather would be better, and before she managed to say a word Andy cut her off and said "You're wimping out already girly? Fine. Just drop that bike off at my house and we'll call it even." That was bullshit and she knew it, but Killa got her bike in position and said "On the next clap of thunder?" Andy nodded.
Lightening followed almost immediately by thunder, then both revved and took off; Andy in the lead until the first turn, then Killa all the way to the agreed upon end. It had been a surreal ride, several times she had almost lost control, once she had felt the rear tire spinning on nothing, then been slammed by the wind back onto the road. She should be dead. Toward the end of the course she felt a curious peace that only came over her when she pushed herself to the limit, then the vision began, the one of being underwater in a pink fluid, the one that terrified her. She followed Kadoya's techniques and was able to push past it, focus on the here and now; then she noticed she was at the end of the course and the race was over.
Andy was gone. She rode slowly over the track and called for him, but no one answered. She didn't see any wreckage, but the raging sea would have eaten it anyway. Sick, she was just sick with worry and felt responsible for his death. Imagine her relief, and anger, when she found out Andy was very much alive, and telling anyone who'd listen how he'd tricked her into risking her life and had no intention of paying up "to a stupid little girly." Randall called her the afternoon after the race and told her what was happening. She remembered the conversation vividly:
"Killer, I hear you won a race."
"Yes, umm, what did you hear Randall? Anything about Andy" God she'd been terrified he was dead.
"Well, I just overheard Andy telling everybody up at the club that he tricked you good. He got you up at Oceanside at night in a rainstorm and then let you work the track by yourself after the first turn. He's bragging that he just turned on around and watched you nearly kill yourself. I think he did it so you would get killed, Killer."
Killa didn't say a word. She was so furious she felt faint.
"And he says he's not giving up the bike because it wasn't a real race. I say bullshit, and, to tell the truth, so did most of the other guys in here. He shut up after Shorty threatened to shut him up. So what're you gonna do?"
"I don't know Randall. I guess I'm going to ask him for the bike."
"You can ask, but he isn't going to just give it to you. Why don't you let me get it for you?"
Randall's help sometimes involved other people getting hurt. She wanted the bike, but not bad enough to see someone seriously hurt over it. "That's ok Randall, I'll deal with it, ok?"
"Ok, but you let me know if you need some help. I can't stand that little prick."
"I will. I'm fine, thanks Randall."
"Hey, so how was it? Andy said he kept expecting you to spin off the road, so I know you were going fast. Tell me all Killer, I want to hear it, how fast were you going? That was some storm too, I can't believe you pulled off that crazy shit."
"Randall, look, I have to get back to studying, ok? Talk to you later."
"Sure thing girl. Call me if you need some help with collections, I'll fix you up."
That was three weeks ago and she hadn't heard anything from him since. Maybe this was just a job, probably was. She'd call him while she heated up dinner. Killa slammed some cold pizza in the microwave, hit start, grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge, then popped the top and dialed Randall. Ringing, then Randall's voice, "Randall," flat and tough sounding as usual.
"Hey, Randall!"
"Hey Killer, how you doing?"
"Good. So, what's the job?"
"The usual, run some documents for me."
"How much?"
"Three hundred, plus another one fifty for gas, food, and hotel-it's a long ride to where you're going, ten hours."
"Ten hours my speed or speed limit?"
"Speed limit."
"So, more like a five hour trip then?"
"Yeah, Killer, whatever you say, just as long as they get to the court on time."
"Would you like me to pick them up tomorrow?"
"No, I'll just drop them off at the dojo, it's close to where I'll be tomorrow. You practice at noon tomorrow, right? I can't get there until after five, can you hang out until then?"
"Yep, sure can. See you then?"
"See ya."
Killa hung up, wolfed down her pizza and headed out the door to study. She was glad he didn't bring up Andy, she knew that Randall wouldn't approve of her just letting the thing go and not forcing Andy to give up the bike. It wasn't that she didn't want the bike, it's that she wasn't willing to harm anyone for it. Plus, she was pretty sure, hell, she KNEW that Randall was capable of permanently damaging people and as much as she disliked Andy, she didn't want to see him seriously hurt, or worse. But it still ticked her off-she'd figure out a way to make him pay up this summer, it might just take a while. Right now, she had one last final then, thank God, she'd be free for over three months.
Part of what scared her about the kiss was her own initial reaction to it- she'd enjoyed the way it felt for a split-second, then she'd gotten mad that he would act that way at the dojo. And after she stomped his foot to get him to quit, he wouldn't, in fact he got worse. He did quit when she started crying, which was better than Kolby, and he had seemed genuinely sorry and bewildered. She thought about what he said after he let her go, his tone of voice; it was all very confusing. How could he not know that she wanted him to let her go? Didn't he know that no means no?
She was still attracted to him, which disgusted her that she would feel that towards someone who was obviously a royal jerk. Plus, she was attracted to his brother equally, which was weird, although he didn't seem to be as attracted to her. That would be her luck; the jerk brother would like her, while the nice one would want to be friends. "I'll just avoid Two as much as possible." She said to herself, then immediately realized that would be difficult now that they were both going to be her teacher. And she still needed to talk to Kadoya about what happened, she dreaded that, but knew that Kadoya needed to know. What if the guy tried that on another student and they filed sexual harassment charges? Kadoya could get in a lot of trouble, maybe lose his business. Great. She'd deal with it tomorrow.
Grabbing her robe, she headed down to the bathroom. After a long hot shower, she dressed and headed downstairs to get something to eat. "Hey, Killa, that guy Randall, called for you. He has a job for you. He said to call him back, no matter how late, " her roommate Cal called out as she rounded the stairs. "Ok, Cal, thanks."
Randall was a friend of hers from high school. He'd always been in trouble, and was, from what she could tell, still in trouble, just had gotten a lot better at not getting caught. They became friends when she took advanced art and accidentally found out he couldn't read. He was an amazing artist, but he couldn't follow written directions at all, so the teacher, Mrs. Lipscombe, a real witch, was always ragging on him.
At first Killa thought he didn't follow directions just to piss Lips off, but after a while she figured out he couldn't-- he didn't know what they meant. So she started teaching him herself after school; it's not like anyone else was going to do it, and she kind of liked him even if she didn't agree with what he said a lot of the time. Randall believed in survival of the fittest-kill or be killed, Social Darwinism crap, although he wouldn't call it that, he'd just say "Better them than me, the strong survive."
At first he only went along with it to try to get in her pants, he thought she must have a thing for him, a lot of girls did-the whole bad boy act. But after a couple of weeks he realized she was serious. And she realized that he really did want to learn, he'd just missed out on a lot of school. He was enrolled in school for the first time when he was nine; his mom finally died from a drug overdose, and his existence was discovered. Before that, Randall just stayed inside the house. Nobody even knew that a kid lived there, because Randall's mother wouldn't let him go outside.
He was pretty messed up, and things hadn't gotten a whole lot better when he'd become a ward of the state. He told her his story in bits and pieces, along with threats that he'd "Fing kill her if she ever told anyone about this." Killa never repeated anything he'd told her, she was great at keeping secrets because she was curious about people. People told Killa amazing things all the time, she just seemed trustworthy and, maybe more important, interested.
At first he wanted to pay her for tutoring him. Killa looked at him like he was crazy, "You're my friend Randall, you know, 'friends,' the people you do stuff for because you like them, not because you want something back?" He didn't believe her; kept expecting her to freak out, cheat him, run off, use him, something. "I like tutoring you Randall, I don't know, it's fun, ok? Maybe I want to be a teacher. Leave it alone, ok?" So for the last three years of high school she tutored him three times a week after school for an hour or so. None of her other friends, except Toby who kept his mouth shut, even knew she did it, they both kept it quiet; Randall because it wouldn't be "cool" to be around her, and sure not cool to be being tutored by the resident brainiac, Killa because she figured he wanted her to. She felt so proud when he graduated, almost like a big sister, except he was older than her by three years.
All through high school it was their secret friendship where they could both be themselves. Killa could talk to Randall about anything; any way she wanted--she didn't feel like she had to be nice all the time. Randall could talk to her about how he felt without fear of her making fun of him. He'd helped her change, become more confident, cooler, tougher, better able to take care of herself. He nicknamed her "Killer" when they first became friends partly because of her name and partly as a joke because "she was the biggest Fing goody two shoes he'd ever met." If she hadn't been friends with Randall, she might have gone along with Kolby, let him treat her bad.
Randall, the first time he saw the bruises from when Kolby had "sparred" with her-more like taken the opportunity to beat the crap out of her, didn't do what Toby'd done, holler about how he was going to kill Kolby, Randall gave her a long look and said "You can do better than that, Killer. Put him in check or cut him loose. He's YOUR bitch-don't let him forget it." She'd laughed and appreciated that he trusted her to deal with her own problems. She found out later though that Randall planned to kill Kolby, really kill him, if she hadn't managed to deal with him herself. That had scared her a little bit.
When he was in town, they hung out together a fair bit, Randall always came up with cool stuff to do. Him, Toby and her were hell on wheels when they all got together. Randall still kept in touch by email when he was out of town; every few months there would be a message from him. And, occasionally, he had a job for her; he knew she needed the money for college. Most of what he did was illegal and Killa didn't want to know the particulars, but sometimes he had work that was well-paid and perfectly legal, document courier work mostly. She figured this was why he was calling her; she hoped it wasn't about Andy again.
A few weeks ago she'd won a bike in a street race. Killa had mostly quit racing because she was too busy with school. This year she hadn't raced at all, until this last one. The prize was too good to pass up, and the guy who'd challenged her, Andy, couldn't ride anyway, he just had a lot of money. Plus, it was sort of a grudge match. She knew him from high school as well, he was a prick who'd made fun of her constantly, her old clothes, her good grades, everything.
Then Randall taught her to ride a bike, and they'd both been amazed at how quickly she got good, really good. Randall "borrowed" her first racing bike from a "friend" and told her she better not lose. She didn't, she won a sweet little Kawasaki and was hooked. Randall gave her a cut of the money he'd won by betting on her and put her in touch with a good mechanic. The mechanic modified the Kawasaki and made it even faster. Street racing had paid for the all the college and living expenses that her scholarships didn't cover; her parents didn't have enough money to help her, but made too much for government grants.
At first, it bothered her to take the other rider's bike when they lost, but, as Randall pointed out and as she came to find out later when she lost some races herself, the other guy would take her bike and not even blink. She won much more than she lost, so it was a good deal for her, and she loved it, loved the speed, and loved the competition.
The first time she raced Andy, the guy who'd tormented her regularly in school, she defeated him brutally-the guy was afraid to take corners fast, and didn't have a good feel for his bike. After the race, he tried to keep his bike; first he gave her a lame story about how he couldn't afford another one, then, when that didn't work, asked "What are you going to do about it, girly?" She punched him out, Randall taught her how to do that too, a quick hard hit to the nose usually took out most people, especially if you followed it up by one to the jaw.
She was surprised when he went down, then worried until she saw him trying to get back up. Of course everyone laughed at him and she felt terrible, she'd just lost her temper with him. Someone helped her wheel the bike over to Randall's truck and told her to leave before Andy's friends showed up. Randall laughed, rubbed her head and told her she was a badass. She didn't feel like a badass, she felt plain bad for hurting and humiliating Andy even if he was a jackass. She hadn't realized she was that mad at him, but when he called her "girly," it was like she hit him automatically, without any thought for the consequences.
After that, he hated her. He continued picking on her in school, at least when his friends were around, and tried to cause trouble for her as much as possible. Every time they were at the same race, he would challenge her and lose. His bikes got bigger and bigger, faster and faster, but he still lost because he didn't know how to manage fear. Killa rarely felt any, she didn't know why, sometimes it seemed unreal to her, the thought of her getting hurt, like this was a dream and she could snap her fingers and be ok. She'd had a few spills, but every time emerged with nothing but a few scratches and some glorious rainbow colored bruises, it just wasn't a big deal. Whatever the reason, she was fearless and skilled.
He never beat her. The bike she had now came from him, a three-year-old Ninja. It was a sweet bike, but no longer top of the line. It wasn't just that she didn't have time to race this past year, the age of the bike had something to do with it too, as well as the fact that she had already won enough money to barely finish her last year of college. Med school was a snap, she could get money for that; she already had a line on several full scholarships. So, basically, she quit because she didn't want to push her luck, lose her one means of out of town transportation or, worse, end up being caught by the cops. So far she'd been really lucky.
Then Andy emailed her and challenged her to a race. At first she said no way, she knew he'd have a better bike than her. Then she checked around and found out he'd just bought a new Ninja ZX-10R, in black with silver trim, beautiful. Gorgeous bike, super fast, oooh, she wanted it, but knew her bike was no match for it at all, no way. But he emailed back and said she could pick the race location, time, and day. Killa considered it, she knew he hadn't been as good of a rider last year, but he had improved each year, so he was probably better than she remembered. She, on the other hand, hadn't raced at all, so her reflexes were sure to be rusty. Hmm.
She emailed him back that she could meet him a month after school. He said no way, he would be in Europe and then gave a set of dates to choose from, all of them in the month before finals. So that was how this was going to go? He'd make sure she didn't have time to get in any real practicing before the race. All right. So she picked the location she knew he was most terrified of, Oceanside, a curving two-lane road full of switchbacks, prone to rockslides and loose gravel, bounded on one side by sheer rock and the other by a drop to the beach below. Then she picked 2AM as the time, consulted the weather forecast and lunar cycle, and picked the day most likely to rain in the next week with the least amount of moonlight. She thought he'd say no.
He didn't. The day of the race came in a driving rainstorm on a moonless night. Even Killa felt a little scared, the wind was blowing in unpredictable and powerful gusts-it would be easy to get blown off the road. She got there early and ran through the course once, slowly, just to get a feel for it, and had been blown within inches of the edge on the last curve. Adrenalin was still pumping through her body. They met alone, just him and her, also dangerous as hell-no one to call an ambulance, no one to help if things went wrong. She thought he wouldn't show, but he did.
One of Killa's real faults was her inability to back down from a challenge. She had been one of those little kids you could dare to stick their hand in a snake hole and would do it, do it even after being bit in the past. This was one of those times. She opened her mouth to suggest they meet sometime when the weather would be better, and before she managed to say a word Andy cut her off and said "You're wimping out already girly? Fine. Just drop that bike off at my house and we'll call it even." That was bullshit and she knew it, but Killa got her bike in position and said "On the next clap of thunder?" Andy nodded.
Lightening followed almost immediately by thunder, then both revved and took off; Andy in the lead until the first turn, then Killa all the way to the agreed upon end. It had been a surreal ride, several times she had almost lost control, once she had felt the rear tire spinning on nothing, then been slammed by the wind back onto the road. She should be dead. Toward the end of the course she felt a curious peace that only came over her when she pushed herself to the limit, then the vision began, the one of being underwater in a pink fluid, the one that terrified her. She followed Kadoya's techniques and was able to push past it, focus on the here and now; then she noticed she was at the end of the course and the race was over.
Andy was gone. She rode slowly over the track and called for him, but no one answered. She didn't see any wreckage, but the raging sea would have eaten it anyway. Sick, she was just sick with worry and felt responsible for his death. Imagine her relief, and anger, when she found out Andy was very much alive, and telling anyone who'd listen how he'd tricked her into risking her life and had no intention of paying up "to a stupid little girly." Randall called her the afternoon after the race and told her what was happening. She remembered the conversation vividly:
"Killer, I hear you won a race."
"Yes, umm, what did you hear Randall? Anything about Andy" God she'd been terrified he was dead.
"Well, I just overheard Andy telling everybody up at the club that he tricked you good. He got you up at Oceanside at night in a rainstorm and then let you work the track by yourself after the first turn. He's bragging that he just turned on around and watched you nearly kill yourself. I think he did it so you would get killed, Killer."
Killa didn't say a word. She was so furious she felt faint.
"And he says he's not giving up the bike because it wasn't a real race. I say bullshit, and, to tell the truth, so did most of the other guys in here. He shut up after Shorty threatened to shut him up. So what're you gonna do?"
"I don't know Randall. I guess I'm going to ask him for the bike."
"You can ask, but he isn't going to just give it to you. Why don't you let me get it for you?"
Randall's help sometimes involved other people getting hurt. She wanted the bike, but not bad enough to see someone seriously hurt over it. "That's ok Randall, I'll deal with it, ok?"
"Ok, but you let me know if you need some help. I can't stand that little prick."
"I will. I'm fine, thanks Randall."
"Hey, so how was it? Andy said he kept expecting you to spin off the road, so I know you were going fast. Tell me all Killer, I want to hear it, how fast were you going? That was some storm too, I can't believe you pulled off that crazy shit."
"Randall, look, I have to get back to studying, ok? Talk to you later."
"Sure thing girl. Call me if you need some help with collections, I'll fix you up."
That was three weeks ago and she hadn't heard anything from him since. Maybe this was just a job, probably was. She'd call him while she heated up dinner. Killa slammed some cold pizza in the microwave, hit start, grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge, then popped the top and dialed Randall. Ringing, then Randall's voice, "Randall," flat and tough sounding as usual.
"Hey, Randall!"
"Hey Killer, how you doing?"
"Good. So, what's the job?"
"The usual, run some documents for me."
"How much?"
"Three hundred, plus another one fifty for gas, food, and hotel-it's a long ride to where you're going, ten hours."
"Ten hours my speed or speed limit?"
"Speed limit."
"So, more like a five hour trip then?"
"Yeah, Killer, whatever you say, just as long as they get to the court on time."
"Would you like me to pick them up tomorrow?"
"No, I'll just drop them off at the dojo, it's close to where I'll be tomorrow. You practice at noon tomorrow, right? I can't get there until after five, can you hang out until then?"
"Yep, sure can. See you then?"
"See ya."
Killa hung up, wolfed down her pizza and headed out the door to study. She was glad he didn't bring up Andy, she knew that Randall wouldn't approve of her just letting the thing go and not forcing Andy to give up the bike. It wasn't that she didn't want the bike, it's that she wasn't willing to harm anyone for it. Plus, she was pretty sure, hell, she KNEW that Randall was capable of permanently damaging people and as much as she disliked Andy, she didn't want to see him seriously hurt, or worse. But it still ticked her off-she'd figure out a way to make him pay up this summer, it might just take a while. Right now, she had one last final then, thank God, she'd be free for over three months.