"In second place, having passed the finish line at a speed of 187 kmph, the Corvette."
"In the first place, with a speed of 203 kmph, the Audi."
"Ron lost."
The fact was stated with a murmur as the crowd read the result confirmed by the tools to ensure fairness and certainty.
It was a surprise, but at the same time not, as Ron's Corvette Z06 was a model of around the same time as the Audi he just completed with, making it obvious that he had been targeted since the beginning. And it had been a great competition, so, after the short silence, the quiet tension over the gathering was shattered. The festive noise came back, with loud cheers, applause, and exclamations. In short, that kind of fun, that kind of thrill was the reason why everyone had come, the reason why everyone would rather spend the night out there.
As laughter rang, Lance shook his head, disappointed in his friend in the Corvette, and turned to the side. He raised an eyebrow, because there was actually someone more miserable than him.
Immediately, his expression went from down to bright, and he smiled at Kris, brightly at that, as if they were the best friends there could be.
Kris' friends gritted their teeth, at the blatant mockery, irked.
Kris simply gave the blond a glance, then ignored him to look at Alex. The latter looked uninterested in the cheers and the atmosphere around. His gaze remained on the winner being displayed on the screens.
Kris looked at the faint smile Alex was sporting, then at the blonde on the screen. His eyes flashed, but his thoughts were interrupted by a mocking voice beside the black SUV:
"Hey, 'young master' Kris, waiting for an invitation? Why are you still here?"
There was no need for him to guess. Kris knew only one person who could be so crass among his elder cousin's group of friends, and the voice had irked him long enough that he would never fail to recognize it.
He ignored Lance, and focused on Alex:
"It seems that you won, cousin. How about we compete next?"
Alex was interrupted in his appreciation of the interesting specimen of the opposite gender on the connected screens. Thankful, the image changed just then, replaying intense moments of the race, then going on to add moments of previous races.
Thus, Alex didn't frown in displeasure at the interruption. He raised his left knee and rested his foot at the edge of the roof of the car, before he turned to Kris, looking unimpressed:
"Not interested."
"Pfft!"
He looked down at Lance, posed his arm on the raised knee, then looked away.
Far from being bothered, Kris smiled slightly:
"Why? To be a good mama boy?"
Alex paused, then turned back to look at Kris. He looked at him up and down, and asked with mild curiosity:
"Are you that bored?"
"Pfft!"
Those who had been enjoying the spectacle within earshot, and those who had been glaring at Kris for the words he said, struggled to contain their laughter.
Tyler even shook his head, while Lance looked at Kris with pity.
It was really an older brother educating a younger brother, as each time Kris tried to confront Alex, the blows he got in return, while seemingly innocuous, had always been aimed at his heart.
He took a subtle but deep breath, and kept his smile unchanged:
"Thanks for worrying about me, cousin. I just want to see if you still have it in you, and I'm quite interested in some cars in your collection."
Realization dawned on Lance, and he sneered:
"Ohhhh… The last part is the true reason, isn't it? So, which car do you want? The Cadillac V16 from almost a century ago? The muscle class '67's Camaro SS? The '70's El Camino? Or maybe the Bugattis. Veyron or Cheron? Aston Martin One-77? Or something else? Come on, take your pick. Maybe Alex will feel generous with you. You are his younger cousin, he won't shortchange you. If you are in need, he might even help pull you up."
Each of the cars Lance spoke the name of was worth hundreds of thousands, a million even, at the minimum, either when first produced, or now, after many years.
The car enthusiasts attracted to the gathering felt their hearts race, and some even swallowed their saliva. There might be no jealousy, but there was certainly envy, though only from the less well off in the crowd.
This time, Kris showed anger, and growled at the blond:
"Lance Lotter, know your place!"
Lance's face turned cold, at the same time as Tyler, who had only been looking on with a slight smile, and he retorted:
"Or what, Kris Lenner?"
Not one yo back down, Kris sported a fierce look, and he took a step forward:
"Or–"
The air suddenly turned thick, replete with gunpowder about to explode. Only for a calm but annoyed voice to diffuse the situation:
"Alright, enough."
Lance immediately stopped the duel of fierce stares. He glared at Kris one last time, and turned his head with muffled snort. Tyler glanced at Alex, and also stopped giving Kris cold looks, returning to sipping the drink in his hand that was different from the one from before already.
Alex glanced at his friends, and after seeing them step back as he said, turned to his cousin. He gave him a calm look, then shook his head when he saw the twitch at the corner of his mouth from being forced to raise his head to hold his gaze. With the headshake came a sigh:
"Why can't you be like your father, if you can't be like your sister? One is content, while the other is striving on her own. As for you…"
The disappointment at a junior was obvious in Alex's eyes, as he shook his head again. His gaze descended from Kris' face to the fist the latter clenched, and he sighed.
After taking a glance at the empty starting line of the race track, he slid down the roof of his car, and looked at Kris squarely:
"Alright, I accept your challenge. And since you like it big, we will go big, if you dare."