My obsession with Rafe Vega : Teen Fiction

Chapter 17

‘There’s something not right,’ I ripped my helmet off, as I spoke to Tom.

‘“Not right?” Where? In the engine, with the tyres, with the __.’

‘We’re not solving anything with you screaming Tom!’ Jeff cut Tom off, ever the voice of calm and reason.

‘This is the second lap she cut short,’ Tom pointed his finger at me accusingly, ‘perhaps Katy would rather be doing something else, other than practicing,’ he glared at me.

‘What? You think I’m making this up? Why don’t you take it for a spin?’ I suggested.

‘I’ve scrutinized it with a fine tooth comb yesterday,’ Tom continued to yell, ‘there is nothing__.’

‘Give me the keys,’ Jeff reached out his hand.

‘I’m not lying Jeff,’ I pleaded, placing my palm on his chest. ‘The gears are just not taking__’

‘The keys sugar,’ Jeff clicked his fingers.  The only sign of any concern expressed by him. If something was wrong with my car, then I could not race.

The rules did not allow us to change engines, or any parts on the car. Yesterday my car underwent the entrance test and had passed, so I could not change anything now, so as not to have any unfair advantage against my competitors. If something was wrong, I needed another car to pass the test, and I only have ONE car. I mean this one car was costing me a fortune, and an arm and a leg to maintain after every race. Not to mention the fees for Tom, and his two assistants who travelled with us everywhere. We’re not in any financial dilemma or anything, after all we have some lucrative sponsorships and contracts that cover most expenses, but when Jeff and I sit with the financials for two hours every Friday, I get indigestion from seeing all the paperwork of all the costs we incur before each race. It’s a good thing Roger has one of his accountants managing and auditing all our financial affairs. I was rather pleased, when Roger had told me one evening that his accountant is impressed that Jeff runs a tight ship as far as money is concerned. Apparently every cent spent, is documented, and paperwork is filed for all expenses incurred. My respect for Jeff had grown leaps and bounds from that night.

Am I going to be disqualified from racing before I even get to race day tomorrow?

The first heat is in two hours and later this afternoon is the final heat. If I don’t qualify today, I can’t participate tomorrow. Did I come all the way here to the USA for nothing then?

I hate this. I hate it. Why me?

I’d seen Cassie practice earlier, she had a fast, well tuned car. Her practice time was brilliant, better than mine, I hate to admit.

Jeff seemed angry or irritated.  I don’t know which. I mean I’m not lying. I know when my car is performing perfectly, and today it’s not. And I do want to race, hell I want to win. I like winning.

I watched as Jeff took my car around the track.  It was amazing watching him, he was skilled and very fast. I just cannot believe he had just stopped racing, just to be my manager, I mean he’s good, and he’s so passionate about racing.

‘You see that! You see that Tom!’ I darted my finger into his arm, as Tom and I watched Jeff stall in the middle of the track. Tom did not look at me, but a worried crease appeared on his face. Tom and I stayed silent as we watched Jeff hop out, open the bonnet, fiddle for a few seconds and brought the car back, slamming on the brakes, like he was trying to control his frustration.

‘Something’s wrong; right?’ I asked with concern.

Did that sentence make sense? Oh what the hell, I have to worry about my car right now,