Twisted Confessions

Pakin’s P.O.V

“That’s him, isn't it?” I narrowed my eyes at the silver 2020 Porsche 911 GT3 RS parked in the shadows of the stadium parking lot.

“Chai.” One of my closest male friends, Tew, nodded in agreement. His gaze, too, was fixated on the luxury supercar. I couldn’t blame him; it was a pretty sweet ride, though I wasn’t all too impressed, considering I had one of my own.

“Sign me up for the race,” I told him. “I’m going to compete.”

“Aarai na?” My friend looked at me in shock, as if he didn’t really understand if he heard me right…or if I’d just lost my mind.

I don’t know why he was so shocked at all. Come on, I was basically one of the wealthiest people Tew had ever known, and my own car, an Ashton Martin Valkyrie, was unparalleled in strength and speed.

But, perhaps it was because of the fact that I was not a racer. I mean, sure, I raced sometimes for the fun and the thrill. But in the world of true automobile racing, I was nothing but a novice. No professional training, no standing point.

So I guess it was natural for Tew to be worried about me. Skeptical even.

Still, I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t you hear me?” I looked at my friend in irritation. “Go register me for the race. But don’t you dare use my real name. Got it? Or I’ll end you.”

“Dai, dai.” Tew sighed exasperatedly, opening the door and stepping out. He’s heard that threat so many times it was like a mantra at this point; just as he knew I’d never make good on that threat. “I’ll just register you as Pakin.”

With that, Tew shut the door and moved towards the gathering of people in the middle of the track where names were being registered and bets were being placed. But my eyes never wavered, forever focused on the silver Porsche, my gaze holding a kind of threatening intensity that the racer inside wasn’t aware of.

I tightened my hands around the steering wheel at the thought of the man who was probably sitting there in the car with a girl or two, blowing him off or having the time of his life. I shuddered at my own imagination.

I could still remember the tears in my best friend’s eyes. May, the woman I had loved since I had realized the meaning of the word; the woman who had come to me in despair in the middle of the night, seeking refuge.

“He used me, Pakin! And then tossed me aside as if I meant nothing!” May had cried in my arms, her heartbreaking sobs raking through her whole body. “I know he is called the Track King for a reason, but I never thought he’d do this to me! How could he be so heartless?”

It was at that moment that I promised to her, and to myself, that I was going to avenge her honor. And now here I was, ready to take him on in his home court.

Was I brave or just stupid? Maybe a bit of both. After all, I wasn’t doing this just for the hell of it. I was doing this for May, for love. Why else did people do stupid things if not for love?

Leaning against my seat, I stared intently at the car. It was heavily tinted, parked at a spot devoid of lights, so I couldn’t make out any silhouette or movement inside it. But I was willing to bet that the people inside were preoccupied.

And sure enough, after a while, the driver’s side door opened, and out went Sean Cheewagaroon, followed by an unknown woman. Both of them had disheveled hair, and the woman’s shirt was unkempt, like she had hurried to put it on.

“Shia!” I cursed at the sight of them. Well, well…I was right after all.

What’s worse was that Sean didn’t seem to care about the woman anymore now that he was finished with her. She tried to cling to his arm, but he brushed her away, not even glancing her way as he went to talk with some people in the gathering he seemed to know.

I clenched my hands into fists, infuriated. I felt bad for the woman; she was yet another one of his victims. She looked close to tears, her hands reaching for his once again before they fell limply at her sides; but seemed to take the hint and left soon after. Poor woman, looking at her pitiful state made my blood boil.

How could he be so cruel? So…arrogant?

I stared at him, taking in his features. Sure, he had a face that was considered good-looking, but he didn’t seem to be all that. Dark hair that shaped a perfectly angular face, and dark eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

He had an athletic build, and maybe because of his status as a pro racer, he seemed appealing to a certain audience. But that was it. He was a player, and well-known for it. And that red flag should have been enough to turn anyone off. Still, women were drawn to him like moths to the flame…and one of those women had been May.

My fist trembled as I climbed out of my car. It wasn’t my first time appearing in a rally, in a place like this where people of all walks of life bet on unusual things—from money to whatever the hell they pleased.

It was not my first time in a place that reeked of vices and curses, a place that smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline.

But it was my first time here in such a place as a participant. I was usually just an observer, an illegal racing enthusiast. But now I was here as a contestant, and I had already won two bouts.

Now I was about to challenge the so-called King of the Tracks in his turf.

I let my legs take me to where he was, marching up until I was close enough for him to notice my presence and glance at me.

“You versus me,” I cut straight to the chase. “Let’s race. It’s in my best interest to make you eat dust.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement and surprise crossing his features. He took a long drag of the cigarette tucked carefully between two of his fingers, tilting his head to study me as if he had just encountered a strange specimen.

“Pakin…” I heard Tew’s low, shocked voice from somewhere behind me. “He has never been defeated; he’s the King of the Tracks. You shouldn't get too cocky and dismantle the food chain from above.”

“No,” I said firmly, still holding his gaze. “I mean it. Race me.”

I heard the crowd around us go silent. It was clear that they were shocked, but I didn’t know whether it was because they admired my guts or thought I was just plain stupid.

“Oh?” Came Sean’s intrigued voice. “And how much do you want in return, should you…win this race?” He gestured towards me with his hands vaguely, the cigarette blowing smoke in my direction.

I shook my head. “No, I don’t want money,” I said. “I have no use for that. What I want in return is for you to bow in front of me, and admit that you, the King of the Tracks, are an unperturbed asshole.”

Cue more gasps and noises of shock. But even with such a painfully vocal audience, Sean didn’t appear to be taken aback. Instead he laughed at my condition, as if I had just made the joke of the century, which infuriated me further.

“Is that what you want now?” he said, and I had a difficult time distinguishing whether he was mocking me, or if he was just amused. The thought of him mocking me flared my anger further.

“Well?” I narrowed my eyes, not backing down.

“Well, then. I accept your challenge.” He threw the cigar on the ground and crushed it under his boot, before taking a step towards me. “But I have a condition of my own.”

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the asshole to make some kind of ridiculous demand.

“I have no use for your money either,” Sean countered, still looking amused. “So if I win, then you have to sit on my dick and ride me all night.”