The Paid Men and the Mafia Girls
CHAPTER 24: HOPE NOT TO BE LATE
After 2 hours of silence sitting on the hill alone, Jourrel decided to return. His steps were shaky and unguided. His mind is dying now.
Upon entering the house, Jourrel immediately opened his mother's room. Make sure that the woman is okay. Returning to pull the door until it is tightly closed, after seeing it is still as before.
Jourrell went back into his room, breaking down his body that felt very tired. Close it for a moment, think about how the ending of a little problem of his life.
"Aahh shit!" he grabbed his jacket and motorcycle key and rushed out of the house.
The man hastily turned on his motor, going at an average speed. After coming out of a small alley and being on the highway, the speed of his vehicle was like a blowing wind.
Before long, Jourrel arrived at Tristan's workshop. But it has found no one but the employees of the workshop. Jourrel took off his helmet and got off the bike.
"Where is Tristan?" ask one of the employees.
"Just left, not long ago. It may not be far from here yet" said the young man at work.
Without replying again, Jourrel ran back to his bike. Drive at high speed so that you can meet Tristan without wasting time. However, he had been driving for an hour, not finding the whereabouts of his friend.
Jourrel pulled the bike over. He grabbed his phone and called right away. Before long, it sounded authentic from across. Boisterous and bustling through Jourrel's ears.
"Bro! Where are you?" shout Jourrel.
"Huh, what?" sahut Tristan was also shouting. He could not hear clearly because the atmosphere around him was already very crowded.
"Di - ma - na?" Jourrel affirms every syllable.
"In the arena! Cheryl wants to try the car!"
Jourrel snorted, his chest as if struck by a heavy burden. His breath roared violently.
"Share lock right now!" pekik Jourrel frustrated.
"Why?" Tristan gave a confused shriek as the tone of Jourrel's voice sounded so panicked.
"Buruan!" the guy turned off the phone. Then put the phone on the phone holder on the handlebar of the motor.
Jourrel turned on the maps, following the detailed directions his phone screen showed. His eyes focused on the highway and the road pointer in turn.
The red light he had broken through just like that, ignoring his own safety, hoping that he would not be late. With his agility and agility, Jourrel finally arrived at a racetrack.
It still does not reduce the speed, with eagle eyes scanning every corner of the road. The distance of the entrance gate with Tristan was still quite far. Jourrel doesn't pay attention to anything anymore. In addition to meeting with Tristan and stopping Cheryl.
Jourrel opened the helmet glass, his eyes glaring as Cheryl began trying her car on the track.
"Tan! Stopit! Stop Cheryl!" he shouted from far away which was certainly not heard by anyone.
Moreover, the full face helmet that covered his head, made the baritone sound muffled and completely inaudible. But Jourrel was unconscious. He kept screaming from the top of his bike.
His heart rattled when Cheryl had started racing the four-wheeled sports vehicle. Jourrel was late, he had just reached the point where Tristan was standing.
"Tan!" exclaimed Jourrel clenched both of his hands.
"Hey, Bro. Wh why? It's so important, how come nyamperin here!" Tristan patted Jourrel on the shoulder.
"Where can cut the path of that arena. Where do I go?" jourrel quickly ignored Tristan's question.
Tristan frowned. He did not understand the meaning of the friend's words. Jourrel pulled Tristan's collar until her body approached.
"Hurry up, Tristan! Where are the roads that can cut the track?" his screech almost hit Tristan out of impatience.
"On the left side of the track. Hundred meters! Every hundred meters ...."
Tristan had not had time to complete his sentence, Jourrel threw Tristan's body, then drove his vehicle at full speed.
"Hopefully it's not too late!" he murmured in his heart with a feeling of wastiness.
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