Oxterionn: Of Love and Fast Cars

Andy looked Millie over thoroughly to make sure she had told the whole story, and that it was true. For the most part it matched what he had found in his research. He knew Millie and Johnny Saxon had gotten married, but he did not realize Callum was actually Johnny's son. Andy glanced over his notes again to make sure this could really work. "Well, I will have to talk to Rosie and the boys, and old John if he's feeling up to it, but I think I have a solution. We can work this out."

Millie finally put down her glass. Her face was lined with weariness, but she looked relieved. "At this point, I would do anything to make this go away." She refilled her glass, but stopped mid pour. "Wait, what's the catch? You must want something in return, right?"

Andy shook his head. "No, I'm just a bored old man hoping to help out my grandson and his friend."

Millie gave him a confused look and took a sip from her glass.

"Kat. My grandson is close with Katherine Brice." Andy explained and Millie's eyes lit up.

"Oh! You're Red's grandpa? I should have recognized the name." She smiled, but still looked tired. Her eyes were searching as she tried to piece together this new information, but Millie could not figure out the connection. "Okay, well, I can do nothing but trust you. I don't think this could get any worse, even if Callum found out he was part of the Saxon family."

Andy nodded reassuringly and smiled. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

Red's mind wandered late that night after his latest rendezvous with Kat in Charlie's sauna. He needed advice, or maybe just to talk to someone. Not Charlie, he couldn't bother him with this. His mama would just tell him to 'follow his heart,' like she had so many times before. The one person who had ever been able to make sense to him was his Grandpa. He was the one who had gotten Red into racing and helped him pursue his career. He was the one that encouraged Red to put racing ahead of anything else – before school, before his family, even before his girlfriend. And Red had never questioned him – Grandpa knew best.

Thinking back to that Saturday afternoon in 1998 Red wondered how different his life might have been if he had liked baseball.

- - -

1998

Like many Bostonians, Red likes the Patriots, and the Bruins, and the Red Sox, although he has never quite understood the game of baseball. His grandfather took him to several games as a boy, which Red impatiently sat through and intermittently asked when it would be over and if he could get more food. Patience is not one of Red's virtues – he likes to go fast.

After one such Red Sox game, Red's grandfather sighed and decided maybe it was time to give up trying to force his favorite past time on his grandson. He left Fenway with the squirming seven-year-old in tow and wondered how he was going to get this kid to settle down. Red was far too hyper after eating ice cream and trying to sit still for a couple of hours; there was no way his Grandpa was bringing him back to his mother like this.

The pair rounded the corner to find Grandpa's car waiting where they left it, but Grandpa said a word Red's mom usually did not allow when he saw a slip of paper tucked under his windshield wiper. "Another parking ticket," he grumbled and angrily pulled it off his windshield. But it was not a parking ticket, it was something far better and a grin spread across Grandpa's face as an idea formed. "Hey kid, want to try go-kart racing?"

"Racing?" Red's face lit up. He had never been, but it sounded far more fun than watching baseball. Grandpa noticed a few cars around theirs had the same coupon tucked under their windshield wipers, so – being the resourceful old man he was – he snatched them up and stuffed them in his pocket for the next time Red had too much energy.

Red bounced in the passenger seat as he excitedly chattered about go-kart racing all the way to the track. His eyes got big as he heard the sound of the small karts whipping around the indoor course and stared in amazement. "Grandpa," he tugged at his arm. "When will it be our turn?"

A birthday party was just leaving, so they were told the course would be closed for half an hour while they cleaned up. However, Grandpa talked the manager into letting them on the track for that half hour. Grandpa was quite persuasive, and had a personality people did not like to say 'no' to – something Red picked up from him.

"Okay Red, you ready to go fast?" Grandpa asked as he secured Red's helmet in place before hopping in the go-kart next to him. Not waiting for the lights to change, Red took off and felt the thrill of a (slightly) fast acceleration for the first time. Though the engine was small and had very little horsepower, it was the fasted Red had ever moved on his own. He laughed as he whipped passed his Grandpa and took corners a little too fast. Red did not care that there was not anyone to really race against, he just loved the thrill of going fast. A seed was planted in his young mind, and one day, Red would go very, very fast.

- - -

"So, tell me how you got into racing." Kat asked Red the next evening at dinner. She was trying to get to know him a little better, and this seemed like a good place to start.

Red was not prepared for this question, at least not from Kat, and tried to think of where to start. He certainly was not going to tell her how he got the money to start racing karts. "Uh well.... how I got into F1? Or-"

"It was Tallon-Fyste, right?" Kat took another bite of spaghetti and looked up at Red. His dark grey eyes were far away and she wished she could see right through them into his mind and catch whatever it was he was not telling her.

"Yes, I started with their junior team in the GP2 series five.... or six years ago?" Red stopped to think for a moment. "I was 18, so that was six years ago. GP2 is kind of like the minor league to F1. They had come stateside to look for new talent for their young driver program. I had been in the FF series (that's Formula Ford) for a few years – first in Formula 1600 and then Formula 2000 – and after doing quite well in both I was starting to make a name for myself in the European market. It can be more difficult for Americans to get into F1 since Europe is the focal point of racing, so when I saw Richard Tallon from Tallon-Fyste after a race I knew that might be my only shot. Tallon is, or was, the driving force behind forming the team and he was instrumental in finding key members of the team. He was the team principle my first year with them and really helped me adjust to the European racing scene." Red paused and thought for a moment. This was the first time he was really talking about this with anyone besides a reporter, and even then, most of the time they knew the specifics and just wanted to hear him say it himself. Kat watched with interested and patient eyes that willed him to continue. "It wasn't hard to win old Rick over, and by the end of our conversation I was sure I would be racing in Europe the next year. He had to talk it over with the investors and the other members of T-F, but I wasn't surprised when he offered me a drive for their GP2 team the next week. It happened pretty fast, actually, but I had been waiting for it most of my life, so it seemed to take forever."

Kat waited a moment to ensure he was finished. "And that's when you met Charlie?" She could tell her question surprised him and tried to gauge his reaction. His eyes fell back to his untouched dinner and he took a moment before replying.

"No, he came a few years later. I raced in GP2 for two years before moving up to F1 to replace another driver. T-F got rid of their first driver in an attempt to revitalize the team. They said they wanted 'a new face' to go along with someone experienced, like Charlie, who had been with them from the beginning. It was a pretty good match." He added somberly as he knew it would never be the same again. He could never race with Charlie, or replace him. That part of his life was over.

He finally relaxed enough to eat a bit of his dinner and it was quiet for a moment, just the sound of their forks hitting the plate. Red set his fork down and laughed as he thought of more thing to add to his story. "When I was fifteen I asked my mom if we could move to Europe so I could race in Formula 3; I'll never forget her response." He smiled and continued twirling his fork in the spaghetti left on his plate.

"I'm guessing she said no...?" Kat prompted. If Red were in Kat's position, Albert would not have cared if he sent his child to live in Europe. Kat had never thought about how lucky she was to have never worried about something costing too much. Summer camp, riding lessons, private school, violin lessons, private tutor...most of those were things her dad wanted her to do, but if she were interested in an expensive hobby or sport he probably would have supported her just the same.

"Are you serious? She laughed, and it was a bit exaggerated, but when she finally calmed down she said we didn't have that kind of money. I tried to find more sponsors, but even once I'd signed a manager I didn't have nearly enough to live in Europe, so I moved into Formula Ford and raced in the US for a few more years. In the end, it paid off, but I always wonder what it would have been like if I'd gone to Europe to race earlier." He shrugged and knew the past was in the past and there was nothing that would come of thinking about 'what ifs.'

"And, do you mind if I ask about the crash?" Kat asked hesitantly. She did not want to upset him, of course, but she knew there had to be more to it than what she had read online.

"I saw them pulling his limp body out of the car." Red stared at his empty plate. "The car had caught fire, so they had to take him out quickly. His doctors told him that if they'd had more time to remove him from the car properly that his spine wouldn't have received as much damage. I guess walking with a cane isn't so bad, it could be worse; he could be paralyzed, or-" he stopped suddenly. "I thought he was dead. I thought I'd killed him." He said quietly and blinked away a few tears.

Kat just nodded as she took it all in, hearing all of his raw and unfiltered emotions. She felt bad for asking, and did not know what to do but nod. It was heartbreaking, and somehow she felt all the emotions he was portraying through his tempestuous grey eyes.

. . .

Emme returned to England to visit the old Saxon homestead after Jacques worked up the nerve to tell her they were not renewing her contract for another year. She was pleased to see her youngest brother Jack smiling like the brat he was and at her insistence they visited their country house to go shooting and blow off some aggression. Emme was usually a good shot, much better than any of her brothers, but today she was the only one who came home empty handed, despite having shot off twice as many shells as her three brothers combined. As they warmed up by the fire after shooting, Jack asked how Emme was holding up.

Emme shrugged and took another drink, but did not answer.

"We have our lawyers on the divorce, it should be a no brainer considering the DNA evidence regarding your, uh, the two children." He almost said 'your children' but in fact, they were not her children. Jack avoided saying their names to prevent causing Emme any more emotional distress.

"Jack," she said slowly. "In the past few months I've discovered my husband has been cheating on me for the past three years with our nanny/surrogate mother, and that she is actually the biological mother of what I thought were my children. Don't talk to me about lawyers."

"Sorry." He muttered, and it was quiet for a moment before he felt the need to keep talking. "You didn't know? You didn't have any suspicion?"

She shot him a deathly cold stare and he shut up, but after a few minutes she sat up. "When Alex was first born I didn't have that instant connection that most mothers say they feel with their child. I thought it made sense, since I had not just spent nine months with him like most women do when they have a baby – but it just never happened. I could have been holding a sack of potatoes dressed in baby clothes, had it not been for the crying. Always crying. Nothing I could do would make him shut up. I guess he just wanted his mum." She got quiet and took another sip from her glass. "The marriage was fake, I guess it only makes sense the two kids come out of this relatively unaffected. I would've hated to put them through a custody battle, but I don't have to worry about that. I don't know how they did it; I was there for the implantation of the embryo. She must have already been pregnant. I went through the fucking awful process of egg extraction for nothing."

"I can't believe you raced that weekend, you must have been a wreck after finding this out," Jack commented.

Emme leaned her head back and groaned. "And now, even that has been taken from me; Jacques is not renewing my contract another year. F1 was the one thing I thought I could count on, and now that's gone too."

Jack grinned and exchanged glances with their two brothers, who both nodded in encouragement. "Don't worry sis, you don't have to retire yet. Unless you want to, I mean, you are getting pretty old," Jack teased.

She jokingly hit him, but did not return his smile. "Shut up, I'm only three years older than you."

His smirk faded and he tried to put on a more serious tone, but with Jack nothing was serious. "I think I can get you a seat at Oxterionn."

"Uhh... I'm sorry, what?" Emme was waiting for the punchline, the other shoe to drop. This was another one of Jack's jokes, right? Rupert sat silently at Jack's side caressing his pint of beer, not wanting to get involved, and Alfie was even less help as he raided the scotch cabinet.

"I've been working on something lately, and the family business has recently come into partial ownership of Oxterionn." The 'family business' was the legal term for all the illegal things the Saxon's did. "Do you remember dad's old friends the McGowans? Ginger Irish lot who drink too much?"

Emme shrugged. The name sounded familiar.

"Well," Jack continued explaining. "They have family stateside that used to be quite influential in their own region – the Boston area, I think. They now go by 'McLaughlin' after some territorial dispute back in the '20's-"

"McLaughlin? Like Red McLaughlin?" Emme interrupted and sat up.