Chapter 15

‘Irritated,’ she thought, ‘I can’t use the words I really want to use ... Daddy washed my mouth out with soap last time. Irritated will have to do.’

She looked at her father.

He noticed and cringed. ‘Mom used to look at me like that ... Amy had that look just before the Mercedes Assault ... and now my own flesh and blood...?’

He made the parent mistake, “What?” he asked.

‘Smart kids’ he thought, ‘Why couldn’t she have been born ’normal’.

The little wench said, “What are you guilty of?”

“Numerous crimes against humanity ... which one have I done to you ... recently?”

“Did you contrive with the Insurance Company to have me excluded?”

The automatic denial, “No.” and then... “What?”

“I have to be 18 to race,” she said.

“You do?”

“According to Barney ... Chief Barnsley ... sorry ... everybody has to be 18 to race.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said.

He puzzled... “What about?” And, “Maybe?” Yet again, he opened his mouth but nothing came out... “umh ... what about the race track ... there are younger drivers.”

“I’ll find out,” she said.

‘Good,’ he thought... ‘I’m off the hook.’

Three days later...

“Why so glum, kiddo?”

“The Association of Scalekart Racers, Drivers and Car Builders insures each race and they get a cheaper rate if no one under 18 is allo0wed to race. I’m screwed.”

“Historically, any occupation that a woman invents is taken over by men.”

“Really?”

“Yup, everything except birthing babies ... but ... men started it.” He grinned.

“You, sir, are a dirty old man.”

He laughed.

She laughed.

“Wanna see my new car?”

He was up and out of his chair even before she started to turn away.

“You wanna go?”

“Sure ... is it here?”

“Nope ... at the Eighty.”

“Walk, run, bike or drive?”

“Probably drive ... it’s pouring out.”

“Drive it is.”

Nice thing about an airport ... hangars. Dry parking.

Up wemt the bifold door and Daddy motored out, hit the remote and motored. Right to Midway, left to Groh left to Meridian.

“Scenic or straight?”

Gen mentally flipped a coin ... Right.”

“Scenic it is.”

Scenic is the long way. East River has the best homes.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“We need to do something about the junkyard.”

“Junkyard? Where is that?”

“You just passed it.”

“Now? Or later?”

“No time like the present.”

He turned right at the access road, right again at Groh Service Drive and ... how about that ... a junk yard. Or what passed as a junk yard.

I was going to hop out and ‘get to the bottom of this’ but Genevieve beat me to it.

“Hello girlie,” the fella said.

“Hi. I’m Genevieve Austin ... my dad and I own this place ... who authorised your use?”

“Fella named David Austin ... he never said he had kids. Who’s this guy with yah.”

“Good morning ... describe this David Austin,” Daddy said.

“Short, 300 pounds, bald and wearing a good suit. Who might you be?”

“David Austin ... you have described my nemesis. Charles Allen ... Developer. He’s been pissed at me ever since I bought the East Island out from under his grandiose schemes. Genevieve ... run call Barney.”

The look she gave me was perfect, “Barney!? Daddy ... shame on you. No ... you do it.”

“Mister...?”

“I aint no Mister ... I’m Charlie Cluchie.”

Well, that what he said ... Clue shie ... bet it’s not spelled like that.

“How much for that pile of motorcycles?”

She was pointing and daddy looked.

Yup ... big pile of little motorbikes ... junk every-one of ‘em. Musta been 50 or 60 step-through Honda and Kawasaki bikes in the pile.

He squinted at her. “How much you give?”

“Nope ... this don’t work like that ... I asked you first.”

“Five hundred.” His bid had confidence. Worth every penny.

“Sold!” She hauled out her hip pocket chained wallet, counted out five hundreds and...

“Now ... just you wait a minute Missy ... ain’t you gonna bargain?”

“Nope ... take the money, Charlie.”

He did ... scribbled out a receipt ... she snatched it and put it in her chain wallet.

“I’d have given a grand.”