CHAPTER 149: DODGY REALTOR

The crew looked at each other with nervous energy.

"Maybe we should call the director now?"

It had been twenty minutes since they entered the motorway.

"No, it’s fine," Averie said with a reminiscent of a dodgy realtor. "No need to trouble him."

But there was no stopping the crew members.

"Just for good measure," they repeated.

After a brief ring, the call was picked up.

With the amusement of an old man holding his newborn grandchild for the first time, the director, who had some idea about what was going on, instructed them to continue.

"What choice do we have?"

Although he said that, his voice was a bit too elated.

"At least, it will make for a good show. Don’t lose any footage. The little cameras set inside the car are working, right?"

Disappointment. That’s what they received from their boss.

But before they could protest, a voice similar to that of a raging goddess pierced through the speaker.

"Averie!"

That one word was all he needed to snatch the phone and cut the call.

On his cold face, the shadow of reality flickered. He knew something fearsome awaited him once he returned.

"Optimism," he chanted religiously, the wheel vibrating in his hands. "Optimism will save me."

The motorway had few cars traveling at night, but it wasn’t devoid of activity either.

There were trucks and a few passenger vehicles, most of which stuck to the left lane after hearing the police sirens.

But some souls chose to brave the racing vehicles. Seeing this, the police decided to slacken their chase, allowing Averie ample time to evade them.

’This is truly dangerous now,’

the actor thought. ’This could be my ticket back to Hell.’

But that did not stop him from continuing at the same speed.

His phone rang again.

Averie hurriedly picked it up.

"Listen, sweetheart," he said in an apologetic tone. "I feel bad for the things I said. I didn’t mean to, but when you’re a celebrity, you end up doing something like that. Just don’t hang up, okay? We have to plan our night together."

The moment’s silence was too unbearable for even the most devilish of actors.

"Well," came the reluctant voice from the other end, "your sincerity is appreciated. I am sorry if I gave you that idea, but I am not interested in you. And I am not gay."

"Who the fuck are you?"

Averie threw his phone at the windshield, which bounced off the dashboard and hit the cameraman in the face.

"Good lord and Mary, it hurts!"

Averie put the phone back to his ear.

"You chunky pig! It’s you, isn’t it? The ugly-sounding police dog."

"Shut up, you lunatic! You’ve got no right to say that to me."

"Yeah? I’ll say it. I’ll say it until your mother’s a corpse!"

"Ha!" he energetically exclaimed. "You poor sod! My mum’s already dead!"

"Damn!"

It wasn’t a good day for Averie. He was losing too many verbal battles.

’So many fights... Am I that unlikable?’

Such a realistic thought could not last in Averie’s fantasy, so he erased it from memory.

’Nah, couldn’t be. They just hate me for my good looks.’

"Anyway, why did you call?"

"We need to talk. You need to slow down. You are putting lives at risk."

"If I slow down, you’ll PIT maneuver me. I’m not risking that."

"Oh, I didn’t peg you for a chicken."

"I’m not."

"Chick, chick, chicken! Afraid of PIT maneuvers, chick, chick, chicken!"

Averie stepped on the accelerator. Within seconds, he exceeded his previous speed by a large margin.

"Dare me to go faster?" he screamed into the phone.

"Hey, hey, slow down!"

"I can go faster; should I go faster?"

"No, don’t!"

"Who’s the chicken, now, huh?"

"I am! I am the chicken!"

"Yeah, say it; chant it!"

"Chick, chick, chicken! I am a chicken!"

The fiasco was as entertaining as it was concerning.

After Averie slowed down, the talks continued in a more civilized fashion.

"Look, we need you to surrender."

"I can’t do that until I win the race."

"We can’t possibly allow that kind of display."

Unable to reach a decisive solution, they decided to continue the deadlock.

"Alright, best of luck with your promotion."

"Thank you. And good luck with your show."

After exchanging amicable replies, the call ended.

"What a bitch."

"What a psycho."

Averie slowed the car down significantly.

"So?" asked the cameraman.

"He said they won’t do anything for now, unless we overspeed."

"That’s good—"

"It’s a lie. They have already put up roadblocks further up the motorway and set up spikes, I can guarantee you that."

He asked the sound guy to pass over his bag in the back. Rummaging through it, he took a bottle of water and a tin box full of biscuits.

"Time to stuff yourselves, boys. We will have to abandon the car soon."

The Supra was the only thing making them feel somewhat protected, and leaving it gave them a certain sense of dread.

Stressed and reluctant, they followed Averie’s advice.

After about fifteen minutes, the Supra abruptly sped up.

Changing lanes, it entered the closest exit ramp and left the motorway.

The fleet following them was reduced to about half as they missed the exit.

"Alright, what now?" the cameraman asked.

And Averie flashed his phone screen at him.

"’How to evade arrest in a high-speed chase?’" he read.

His eyes widened. "You are looking that up on the internet?"

"Yeah," the actor said with a proud grin. "Genius, right?"

’What is wrong with this man?’

But as it turned out, Averie’s self-proclaimed genius wasn’t that convoluted.

There was already a moron who had asked the same question on a forum not too long ago.

"Look, he was posting his plans as he was trying to escape. Hourly updates and all that. The guy doesn’t sound too smart. How did he even successfully loot a bank? With a fake gun? This is pure comedy."

A structure in the distance suddenly caught his eye.

"We can hide there."

It was the British Motor Museum.