Sidewayz Glory by Strasser Todd

Author:Strasser, Todd [Strasser, Todd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781439121016
Amazon: 143912101X
Goodreads: 8835886
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2006-06-20T07:00:00+00:00

13

Kennin in at the parking garage, Tony came out of the valet office with a casino security guard in a gray uniform. Tony had a serious look on his face. “Mr. Mercado wants to see you.”

“Why?” Kennin asked.

“You got me.” Tony gestured to the guard. “Joe’ll take you into the casino.”

Kennin followed the security guard inside and past the public elevators to the small private one that required a key. They rode up to the penthouse in silence. The elevator stopped and the doors opened into a dark-wood-paneled office. Laney, an attractive blond woman wearing glasses, sat at a desk typing on a silver laptop computer. She smiled at him. “Please take a seat, Kennin. Mr. Mercado will be right with you.”

Kennin sat down on a small couch. Hanging on the wall opposite him was a brightly colored painting of Formula One Grand Prix cars careening around a curb in a splash of brilliant hues. Kennin had never seen a painting of racing cars before. He got up to take a closer look.

“You like it?” a voice asked.

Kennin turned to find Mike Mercado in the doorway. He was wearing blue slacks, a white shirt, a red tie, and blue suspenders.

“Yes,” Kennin answered.

“It’s by LeRoy Neiman,” Mercado said. “Ever heard of him?”

Kennin shook his head.

Mercado smiled, “Well, come on in. You want anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Kennin said, and followed Mercado through the large dark wooden doors and into his office. Kennin had been in the office once before, but the size of it still amazed him. It was lined with dark red curtains and must have taken up at least half of the top floor of the casino building.

Mercado led Kennin to the easy chairs in the front of a huge flat-screen TV. On the other side of the room was a Ping-Pong table, and against the wall stood an enormous fish tank filled with colorful tropical fish. In the middle of the office was a sleek red and white motorcycle. On Kennin’s last visit Mercado had told him it was a Ducati Desmosedici, the fastest production motorcycle in the world.

“Still haven’t taken it for a test drive?” Kennin asked.

“No way,” Mercado said. “I value life too highly. Especially mine.” They sat down in the chairs. “How’s the leg?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Strange for a wheel to break off like that right at the beginning of a run, isn’t it?” Mercado asked.

Kennin nodded.

“Of course, if that had happened on our new track instead of up in the mountains, there wouldn’t have been nearly as much damage,” Mercado said. “I doubt you’d have even been hurt.”

Kennin knew that Mercado hadn’t invited him there to remind him of the dangers of drifting on dark mountain roads.

“Derek tells me you’re reluctant to get involved with our new project,” the casino owner said. “Is it because of the crash?”

Not wanting to say one way or the other, Kennin shrugged. “The car’s trashed.”

“Anything else you can drive?” Mercado asked.

“Maybe,” Kennin said, thinking of Shinchou’s Corolla. “But the vehicle I’m thinking of needs a lot of work.

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