Usually when I went out, I picked the easiest place to get as many drinks as fast as possible. My view of London, Ontario was limited to the bar scene, but there were other places to visit as well. Drake picked a nice restaurant and gave the two of us the chance to change out of the fire suit and oil-stained t-shirts in favor of dress-up shit. The sight of a tie sure as hell was a new one, but I didn't mind the change. He looked good all cleaned up, like a brand new giant teddy bear.

I wasn't quite sure why the fuck I thought that maybe a different, classier setting would give Drake the courage to ignore his child for a whole two hours. Of course, I was wrong, but how was that any different than usual?

Apparently I was driving the fifth version of Sacrilege, and she had undergone quite an evolution before I even got the chance to meet her. Originally she didn't even have the horizontal spinner, but that upgrade came with version three.

He was just getting into the subtle differences in the motor between versions three and four when I finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Drake, please. Tell me about anything besides the robot. Anything," I interrupted.

"What?"

"Anything. You're an interesting guy," I said.

He thought for a moment. "I don't know what you want from me. I thought you were into the mechanical workings of the robot."

"Oh my god," I mumbled to myself. "You know what, how about I give you an example? What story do you want to hear from me? I have a shit ton. There was when I bought an ice sculpture of myself for a party, how I met my best friend, the time I accidentally joined a Bible study when I was drunk—"

"How about the best friend one?"

I smiled. Good choice. "Well, I don't remember most of it to be honest, but Griffin pretty much filled in all of the blanks for me. I'm not really sure if I ever told you, but Talladega was always my unluckiest track. Cost me everything, really, not just my spot at RTR. But when I was racing there for the first time, I got in a really bad wreck and broke my neck. Woke up in the hospital, and I still don't remember what the fuck happened that entire time. I don't really want to remember."

"Oh," Drake said, but the story was far from over.

"Anyway, Griffin was a rookie at the Cup level, and he was watching the race and saw the whole thing. He came to make sure I wasn't going to die, and it just kind of blossomed from there. He was the whole reason I signed with Roger Truscott Racing, honestly, and we had such a good time that I hardly even regret that decision."

The main part that I remembered from that day was that I couldn't see shit thanks to the medication in my system.

No one besides my crew and a few of the other drivers I knew had visited me at all, mostly because I hadn't made peace with anyone in my family after the murder incident. But that changed when Griffin Gallagher, rookie sensation, reached out to me.

"Katie Moore," a voice said, and someone came into the room. "Oh, shit. You're awake."

"What the fuck are you doing in my room? Who are you?" I asked. All I could make out was a couple of blurry features, but this guy clearly thought he was something. No normal person put that much effort into sculpting every square inch of their muscle for fun. He wanted someone to notice, but unfortunately for him, it didn't work on me.

He held up both his hands. "It's okay. You know me, and I know you. We just don't know each other. I brought you some flowers."

He set them on the table where I definitely wouldn't be able to see them (given the whole broken neck situation), but I didn't say anything.

"So you don't have a name?" I asked.

"I was hoping you'd recognize me," he said.

"Well, I'm sure I would, but everything's blurry, I'm not able to move anything, and to be honest, you sound like every other Midwestern white dude on the planet."

He laughed. "Yeah, I didn't really think about that. Griffin Gallagher. I'm kind of a big deal."

Why didn't he lead with that? Griffin Gallagher? I sure as hell knew that name. He was the rookie phenom from Missouri who was, in fact, kind of a big deal. I always figured I'd get the chance to meet him one day when I finally graduated to the big leagues of the Cup Series.

He was hot, so fucking hot, and apparently, he was a good person too.

I was gonna have to charm the hell out of this guy.

"Once you win a race, then maybe you can be a big deal. Until then, you ain't shit," I replied.

I was off to a great start. He definitely already liked me.

"I'll keep that in mind, even though I'm pretty sure you have no idea what you're saying. You look high as fuck right now," he said. "You know, your wreck kind of put things into perspective for me. We take it all for granted, but there's a lot of shit that can go very, very wrong."

Oh, wonderful, that was exactly what I wanted to talk about.

"It sure as hell knocked me down a couple pegs. I was really feeling myself until now," I said.

"I can't even imagine, honestly. If you ever need anything, just let me know. It was hard to watch that wreck, and it'd drive me fucking crazy if I didn't offer any help."

"Do you know who did this to me?" No one else would tell me, but maybe he would.

"Do you actually want to know?"

I would have nodded, but I couldn't. "Please tell me. I just want to know who I have to kill once I get out of here."

"Look, Moore, he feels really bad about what happened, and I don't think you should hold it against him. He didn't mean anything."

"I want to know. Don't you think I deserve to know?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Tyler Bailey. There was nothing he could do, though. It was just a racing accident."

Tyler Bailey.

He was dead to me.

"I ended up winning the championship the next year and made my way to the top level right after that. Plus I went out with the guy who almost killed me for a year, which was about the dumbest way to emotionally heal from the whole thing." I shook my head. "But that was when I was young and stupid. Now I'm slightly older and stupid in a different way."

You literally almost killed me was always good ammo when we were fighting, anyway.

"How young?" Drake asked.

"Twenty-one. I was twenty-two when I won the championship the next year, and right after that, I moved up to the Cup Series and started dating Tyler. Still hate myself for it."

"It's all a learning experience, Katie. There's no reason to hate yourself over something like that," he said.

Pretty much the only thing I learned from Tyler was that I deserved so much better, and the jury was still out on what I was learning from Drake.

"Now it's your turn. Tell me anything about you as a person," I said, and as soon as the words left my mouth, my eyes filled with tears like someone just punched me in the nose.

What the hell was up with that?

"What do you want to know?" Drake asked.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. This makeup was way too time-consuming and expensive for that shit. "Just pick something that you think is important. I feel like I know barely anything about you, and yet you have access to all sorts of details about me."

I kept blinking and took a deep breath.

"When I was a kid, I always thought I'd be a football player like my dad. Obviously it didn't turn out that way. I didn't get a single athletic gene," he paused for a second and smiled to himself. That was good. That was exactly what I wanted. "By the time I hit high school, he was done playing in the Canadian Football League, and I knew it wasn't gonna happen that way. I found robotics and Josiah, and that was that."

"So it was your dad that raised you, right?"

He nodded. "Well, kind of. He was usually busy during the football season, so my grandmother did then, but other than that, it was all him."

Progress. He never mentioned her before.

"What's she like?" I asked.

"An absolute saint. She's one of the kindest people I know. She taught me everything about what it means to be a good person. She's got a feisty side, though, so I think you'd like her, and she'd probably think you're something too," he said.

I probably would like her. She kept humble a kid who had every reason to go off the deep end.

"I'm sure I would. Maybe I could learn a few things, huh?" I laughed.

I knew plenty about Annie, I didn't really give a shit about Josiah, and I was finally getting to Drake. I had every intention of leaving as soon as an opportunity arose, but there was no law against enjoying myself in Canada with a good group of people outside my usual crowd while I had the chance.

Hell, they seemed to like me more than I liked me.

After a while, we headed back to the Sacrilege House, and when we arrived, as we got closer to the house, Annie was sobbing about something, and Josiah helped by yelling at her.

"Oh my god," I said to myself, then looked up at Drake. "What the fuck is going on in there? Is Annie okay?"

"It happens. They've been on their best behavior with you here, and this was their chance, I guess," he replied.

"They've been on their best behavior? Are you serious?"

He nodded.

"Funny how that works. All that meant was that Josiah could say whatever the fuck he wanted, and Annie would just deal with it," I said.

"We should probably just leave them alone for now. If you want, we can go—"

I cut him off. "I don't like the yelling. It kind of freaks me out."

Loud words were only loud words, but I sure as hell wouldn't put it past Josiah to escalate the argument to something more violent.

What if Annie wasn't okay in there?

"Drake, come on. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something bad happens to Annie when I'm around."

"You really think Josiah would hurt her?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he would."

Drake shook his head. "Fine. Josiah's a lot of things, but he's not that much of a dick."

I opened up the front door as suddenly as I could to announce our presence.

"I mean, my God, Annie, you have absolutely no reason to do this to yourself." Josiah looked up at me. "This is your fault."

"My fault?" I asked as I caught a glimpse of Annie. She sat on the kitchen floor with a noticeable vomit stain on her shirt and a trash can beside her.

Yeah, that might be my fault.

"All I wanted was one nice evening, and you ruined it because you can't control yourself. Thanks, Katie, for buying all that liquor. Annie had a great time up until now."

"How much did she drink?" I asked.

"It wasn't even that much," she blubbered, which clearly wasn't true. Josiah always reminded me how Annie never drank until I came around, and even though that was probably just a coincidence, it still felt like more than that.

Annie sure as hell wasn't okay, and I had to fix it somehow. I knew all about that feeling.

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Hello everyone! I hope you had a good week, and thank you so much for reading! I'm not entirely sure I like this chapter, so if you have any suggestions, please let me know!

So for today's question, do you think Katie is a bad influence on Annie, or is there a different problem?