Motorhead

Friday, July 12, 2004. Louisiana. The great New Orleans Boat Race. Bill Decroux was extremely excited to enter. He had just turned sixteen and he was finally eligible to enter. He even had his own boat, a small 25 foot Scout with a twenty-five horsepower motor. He bought it used from an old man wearing a black suit for relatively cheap. Only one hundred dollars. Of course, it totalled much more after some work painting and fixing the boat.

The dash didn't have much special, just the regular control features of the boat, and Bill's best picture of Ernie LaBero, the best boat racer this side of the Mississippi. Bill didn't expect to win, but he was definitely going for the experience of meeting Ernie. He was Bill's idol for the longest time, and the one who got him into boats. His mother, on the other hand, was not as pleased. "Boats are bad, William," she would say. She was the only person who called him William. "It's what drove your father away."

Bill could never understand why. His stepfather loved boats, and he was the one who helped Bill pay for the Scout. If Bill's father was anything like him, he would have loved boats, too. Bill's father would also have that dark, untamed hair and wild green eyes, the near permanent playful smile.

"I gotta say, Todd," Bill said to his stepfather, a kind man with sparkling blue eyes. "This boat is sure to at least get me on the leaderboard." Todd nodded.

"You know, son," he replied, his voice having the lilt of a Texan, "there have been some sabotages in these races. We're gonna have to keep a good eye on everyone."

Bill shrugged. "Boat lovers are all good people, Todd. I mean, look at Ernie LaBreo. The guy has given so much to charities and schools and the town. If he's gonna be at the race, no one would even think of sabotage!" Todd chuckled slightly, then looked at the sky. The clouds were an ominous gray, nearly black. He looked at his stepson.

"Let's take the boat in and get inside. There's a storm brewing. A big one, too." Bill nodded. "Yeah. But let's hope it clears up. The race is tomorrow!"

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Saturday arrived, and with it, clear skies and a nice temperature. At least five hundred people had applied for the race, but only fifty were accepted. Bill was extremely lucky to be picked. He and Todd drove the boat down to where the race was going to be held. The Port of New Orleans. Bill could feel the sweat on his palms drip down and soak his pockets. He was nervous. Incredibly nervous.

Todd looked at his stepson. "Y'know, I would come down and watch these races every year," he said reassuringly. "Everyone has made it out okay in the end. And some with fifty grand prize money and a trophy in their car!" Bill nodded.

"That fifty grand's gonna help pay me through college, right?" Todd thought for a moment as he did the calculations. "Give or take a couple thousand," he finally replied.

The two pulled the car towards the dock and followed the instructions to move the boat into the water via the ramp. Bill's heart pounded. He had made sure everything was ship-shape and safe. So why did he feel this inexplicable sense of dread?

"What a beauty," a soft yet powerful voice said behind Bill. He whirled around and saw, much to his surprise, Ernie LaBreo laying a hand on the outboard motor of his Scout. The man was dressed in a short sleeve polo shirt, khaki shorts and sandals, just like Bill. His green eyes sparkled in the light, his dark hair cut short against his skull. Bill should have felt in awe at his idol, but still, that sense of dread persisted. What was going on?

"You must be a real enthusiast to keep a boat like this in such good condition," Mr. LaBreo continued. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it would have come right out of the showroom. What's your name, son?" he asked. Bill gulped.

"Bill. Bill Decroux. Nice to beat, I mean meet you," the boy stuttered, hoping he didn't embarrass himself. Ernie LaBreo laughed. "You're a fun kid. I can't wait to see you in the race." He ran a hand over the motor one more time before walking off to his boat. Bill tried to relax, but he was still tense. Something didn't feel right.

At last, the race was about to begin. The fifty racers all lined up at the starting line, motors idling and co-skippers at the ready. The announcer yelled into his megaphone, "The race will go from the Port to Sawdust Bend Bayou, where the racers will execute a one-hundred and eighty degree turn and return to the starting line. On your mark, get set, go!"

Forty nine racers caught and sped off down the Mississippi River. Bill Decroux was not one of them. Todd moved frantically to solve what problem had occurred. Bill was in shell shock. What could have happened?

A sense of dread. Ernie LaBreo. Running his hand over the motor like he was caressing a lover. Suddenly, it all made sense. LaBreo sabotaged them. He must have suspected Bill's boat was fast, nearly as fast as his own. So he had to ensure he could win. With new resolve, Bill found the problem. A detached wire. Quickly, he plugged it back in and hurried to the throttle, pushing it to the maximum power output. The boat sped off down the river, catching up to the slowest racers.

By the time Bill reached the bayou, thirty racers were heading back to the port. Determined, he swung the boat around and gunned the engine, passing two boats and almost catching up to a third before he reached the finish line. Twenty-ninth place. He felt like crying. Instead of his heart melting in grief, it heated with anger. He stalked up to LaBreo, who was standing at the podium, holding his trophy and beaming like a child on Christmas day.

"You CHEATER!" Bill yelled at his so-called idol. "How could you?! I tried to be like you, and you decided to crush my dreams?! WHY!?" He shoved LaBreo off the podium. And his face flew off his head, with his hair.

With a shock, Bill realized he hadn't been talking to Ernie LaBreo at all. The man with a near permanent sneer and a broken nose looked up to him, his blue eyes twinkling with malice and his blond hair whipping around. This was Gero Marach, the racing fraud who was beaten by LaBreo in the 2000 race. At that moment, the real Ernie LaBreo ran up, a gag over his mouth and two policemen with him. They pulled off his gag.

"MARACH!" LaBreo yelled. "Why are you here!? You were banned!"

Marach snarled. "I wanted that money. My gambling debts."

LaBreo slapped him hard. "Why, brother! Why?! Can you not see you cheated your own son!" Son. That word snapped through Bill's brain. He was Gero Marach's son. Which meant Ernie LaBreo was...

"Uncle?" he asked softly. Ernie nodded, and the two embraced, the entire crowd cheering as the long-lost family was reunited.

Afterwards, Ernie met back up with his sister-in-law and apologized for his brother's actions. "He used to be a good man. Until he learned of gambling, and he went broke. He's been in and out of jail for months now." Bill was granted the prize money, and Todd's calculations were right. He would have enough for college, and maybe even enough for a proper education on large boats. Taught by his uncle, Ernie LaBreo.