Chapter 20
Pops Racer attempted to read the newspaper, trying to ignore than the loud crashing sounds coming from the kitchen. He shook his head, in all their years of marriage, he'd never seen his wife this angry. He didn't even know the whole reason why she was in this state except for the fact that it had something to do with Dallas Maverick. "That girl better watch out because when my wife gets her Irish up, nobody is safe," he muttered.
There was a thuderingly loud clanging; as if every pot, pan and utensil in the kitchen had been flung across the room into the opposite wall. "Dictate to me when I can see my son! Who the HELL does that little witch think she is? OOHHH!" There was more ruckus as Mom continued her barrage.
"This is impossible!" Pops exclaimed, throwing the paper on the coffee table. "I can't concentrate with all this noise." With a sigh he picked up the remote control and clicked on the television. His own temper rose when he switched to the sport's channel and the first thing he was confronted with were images of Speed and Dallas fleeing the Pines Motor Lodge. The two anchors reported, with a certain amount of glee, the details of Speed's fall from grace. It was as if they were actually happy that Speed was more tin than gold.
"Damn, " Pops grunted as he clicked the remote, changing from sports to one of the local news stations. He gripped the arm of his chair with his left hand, waiting to see what the reporters on this station were going to say about Speed. He let out a breath when he saw that the lead story was about a huge fire in the warehouse district of the city. The blaze had spread over two blocks, every paper and television station in town was covering it. "Well, that explains why there weren't any members of the press outside the commission or our house this afternoon. That's a lucky break." Of course, he immediately realized what a crass statement that was, reveling in what was surely somebody else's pain.
His joy was short lived, however as there was a commercial break. An ad for an entertainment show came on. "Tonight...The rise and fall of auto racing's biggest star. Be sure not to miss our exclusive, in-depth report on Speed Racer!"
"Crap!" Pops exclaimed, rising from his barker lounge. "Can't escape this garbage..." Noticing that the din had died down, he took a deep breath before braving the walk into the kitchen. He was relieved to see that his wife had calmed down and was now kneading dough. "Making dinner?" he asked.
"No, cookies," she replied flatly, "The boys love chocolate chip cookies."
"Oh. It kinda looks like pizza dough. You know," he said, motioning to the wall clock, "it's nearly six…"
"So?"
"Uh…well I'm gettin' hungry. I thought you'd have started dinner by now," he said.
"You want dinner? Make it yourself!" she snapped. "I'm not your maid!" She pounded her fist into the dough over and over, as if punishing it for no other reason than the fact that it was pliable and so easily molded.
Pops shook his head glad that they had decided it was best for Spritle to spend the night with his maternal grandparents. "At least I don't have to worry about him whining that he's hungry…" he grumbled as he made a ham and cheese sandwich.
---
Speed stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt. "Guess I should get some pajamas when we go shopping tomorrow." With a good, long stretch, he lowered himself to the bed. Exhausted, he closed his eyes. The events of the day finally caught up with him and he fell into a deep sleep.
He
was running down a deserted beach. The sky was overcast and
foreboding, but he didn't care, he was free. A lone seagull flew
overhead, keeping pace with his every move.
An outcropping of rock jutted out into the sea, preventing him from going any further. "This is as good a place to rest as any," he said as he lowered himself onto the cool sand. The seagull landed a few feet away from him. "Hey birdie," he said smiling, "What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?" He reached his hand out to the feathered creature.
"Hi, darlin'," the gull cooed as it walked towards his outstretched hand. As it reached him, it morphed into something else…a long, slithering boa constrictor.
"Nooo!" Speed cried as it wrapped itself around his arm, tendrils growing from it which in turn wound themselves about his torso, legs and other arm. "Stop it, please…" he begged as the main body of the snake curled itself around his neck, tighter and tighter. He struggled to breathe as the snake slowly asphyxiated him.
"You're mine, sugar," it said, its hazel eyes glowing with pure evil, tongue licking at him. "Mine…forever…"
"Can't breathe…" he gasped, struggling to free himself of the snake's sinister grasp.
"Sweetpea…calm down," the soft, drawling voice whispered in his ear.
"Huh?" he asked, suddenly able to breathe. His eyes fluttered open. "A dream…it was just a dream…" he sighed; relieved.
"A dream, huh? Well, this isn't any dream," Dallas purred as she nuzzled his neck.
Speed shook the last remnants of the nightmare from his brain. "Dallas…what are you doing here?"
"Ah thought you might be lonely in this big 'ol bed," she explained.
"Oh." A shiver went down his spine as he felt one of the tendrils squeezing his thigh. Then, he realized it was just Dallas' hand, though her touch was cold and dead feeling. He chalked that up to the air conditioner, which was cranked at full blast. "Honey, get under the blanket, you're freezing," he said as he lifted the comforter and motioned her under it.
"Ah won't be cold for long," she giggled as she shimmied beneath the comforter and crawled on top of him, covering his chest with kisses.
"Ah…damn…" Speed, though still tired, wasn't able to resist her. He was totally under her spell. A vision of the snake, forked tongue flicking in and out, flashed in front of him right before he gave in to her…body and soul.
---
The next morning, Speed awoke more tired than he had been before he went to bed. Sure, he and Dallas had made passionate love, which lasted until well past midnight. But, normally, after being with Dallas, he'd wake up the next day feeling happy and refreshed, even after only three or four hours sleep. Today, though, he awoke feeling tired and very ill at ease. Something just wasn't right. He glanced over at Dallas' sleeping form, surely his strange mood had nothing to do with her. "She's as sweet and innocent as they come," he said as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. "Aw…it's probably just nerves because of everything that's been goin' on."
He emerged from his shower feeling more like himself; memories of last evening's nightmare finally faded back into the recesses of his mind. He padded back to his room and was happy to see Dallas sitting up in bed, running her hands through her flaxen locks. "Good mornin', Angel," she said rising, naked, from the bed.
Speed's face broke into a wide grin at the sight of her posing so seductively. It was easy to tell what was on his mind. "You are gorgeous…" he said, his voice husky with desire as he approached her.
She took the sheet from the bed, wrapped it around her body and waved him off. "Sorry, Darlin', we don't have time for love. We have shopping to do, remember?" She kissed him on the cheek then left him alone in the room. He was perplexed by the way she had teased him.
---
Pops Racer drank his morning coffee while he finished his bacon and eggs. For once, his nose wasn't buried in the morning paper, thanks to the gossip about Speed and Dallas that was sure to be plastered all over the tabloid.
Mom was busy packing cookies into tins to keep them fresh. She had ended up making ten dozen of them, way too many she know. Baking was her way of relieving tension. Normally, she wasn't the type to rant, rave and throw things. But, yesterday's events had driven her to the violent state she'd been in. Looking back, she was ashamed at her show of temper. She apologized profusely to her husband. He told her not to worry about it, it was natural she behaved that way after her encounter with Dallas. Pops had also promised her that he would talk to Paladin to see what he could do about the situation.
The cookies finally taken care of, Mom sat down with her own cup of coffee. "Are you going to the garage today?" she asked.
"Yeah," Pops replied. "Got nothing else to do now that Speed's not racing…" He took a deep breath as he felt rage against his son coming on. After a few moments, he continued. "I'm gonna work with Sparky and the crew on the prototype for Paladin, it's just about finished."
"Uh huh. When you talk to Mr. Maverick later, make sure you mention the money… again. You put a lot of work into that car, the least he could do is pay you for it."
"I know…I know…" Pops grumbled. "You don't have to keep nagging me about it."
"I'mnot nagging you," she said trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm just concerned, that's all."
"Well, I'm not, so you shouldn't be," he responded. "I trust Paladin."
"That makes one of us," shemuttered. The phone rang, Mom answered it, relief in her voice that the call had interrupted what would surely have become an ugly conversation.. "Hello, Racer residence," she said. "...Yes, he's here. Please hold on for a moment while I get him."
"Who is it?" Pops asked.
Mom held her hand over the receiver. "It's Andrew Coretti from the racing commission."
Pops took the phone from her, figuring that Coretti wanted to set the time for tomorrow's meeting. "Hello, Mr. Coretti, how are you?"
"The meeting…" Mom thought, "that will decide my son's fate."
Pops nodded as he listened to Coretti. "Yes…I see…..Already? I though you said two days…Uh-huh, I can see why you rushed it…. I understand, but…Are you sure? Speed's not the type of boy… Well, the results could be wrong…Twice? Oh. I guess it is pretty conclusive, then….Alright, I'll let my son and the rest of the team know…I'll see you later. Goodbye." Pop's face was ashen as he hung the received back on its hook.
"Dear, what's wrong?" Mom asked, concerned at the expression on her husband's face.
"They got the results of the test back. The lab found something illegal…"
"Illegal?"
"Yeah, a controlled substance they called it, something that could have a man arrested if it's found on him," Pops replied.
Mom stared at him. "What does this mean for Speed?"
"Probably, the end of his racing career," Pops answered soberly.
