Fast Lane

by Jennis Slaughter

  She opened the local paper and saw a picture of herself shouting at the mechanic of a competitor who had left a wrench in pit row that had damaged her car so badly that the time it took her crew to repair it, she had dropped from first place to fifth. However, it wasn’t the sight of her own face that caught her attention. No, it was the image of Addi standing behind her with a look of longing on her face that it made Sam’s heart, and other body parts...clinch.

  “Nick! Where’s my cell?”

  Nick sighed, walking out of the RV, and handed the notorious driver her cell phone. “Here you are Lady Dupree.” He smiled sardonically as he went back to his phone call with her PR firm. Sam’s temper was notorious all over the track if she lost.

  “Arnie! Hey, it’s Sam Dupree...how are things going?”

  “Well hey stranger, things are great. I’d ask how you are doing, but we already know. Addison buys every magazine with your face on it, and all I’m forced to watch is ESPN International and your races.” He chuckled.

  “Yeah well, I’m sure that the press loved my shouting match. Why is it that everyone believes that Southern women don’t have a temper?” Sam ran a hand through her hair.

  “Lord only knows, ma’am. What can I do for you?” Arnie asked as he watched Addison pull off the leather seat from her Triumph Motorcycle.

  “How’s our girl doing?” The blonde idly traced her finger around Addison’s image.

  Arnie walked away from Addison around a corner in the garage where he could talk to his boss privately. “Tough. She’s lonely. Addison covers it up pretty well, but she’s having a difficult time making friends. But I’m sure she’ll be alright. Though she did ask for a translator...and a bodyguard.”

  Sitting up straight, Sam tore off her sunglasses. “What does she need a bodyguard for?”

  “She says that French boys don’t like to take no for an answer,” Arnie whispered into the phone. “These boys don’t understand she’s really not interested, especially when she’d rather be working on her bike or learning about the cars.”

  “I totally forgot about the translator so I’ll make sure that whoever I send can do both. Do you want me to send some CD’s to help her learn?” Grabbing a pen, Sam started making a list.

  “That would be nice; I think Rosetta Stone would work well. She’s a quick learner at anything she puts her hand too.”

  “What is she doing now?”

  “Right now? She’s working on her motorcycle. Last weekend after we got back from seeing you race, Addison said she was bored. So we went to scrap yard, where she parted with little cash to get the bike, but she’s happy she’s got something to do now.”

  Sam leaned back and smiled. She knew what she could get for the young driver. “I’ll have a bodyguard there first thing in the morning, along with the CD’s. Do you think that she would prefer a male or female protector? I don’t want her uncomfortable.”

  “Male I think, though when I do see her in company, it’s usually the French women. For some reason, they don’t like Americans, but they really like her.” Arnie laughed.

  Sam frowned, not knowing if she liked the sound of that. She knew that she had no right to be jealous, but she still was. “Arnie, do you think that she’s happy being over here?”

  Arnie sighed quietly, but loud enough for his boss to hear. “To tell you the truth, boss...I think she is just happy to be out from under her father’s thumb. If you were able to see her, she’s smiling a lot more than she used to.”

  “Yeah, I wish that I could spend more time with her on race days, but it’s just too hectic.” Sam sighed. “I’ll have a bodyguard there tomorrow, and I’ll call her later tonight. Thanks Arnie for keeping a close eye out for her.”

  Closing the phone, the blonde yelled for Nick, “Get Sven to the school for Addi, and have him take Rosetta Stone CD’s in French, Italian, and Spanish. Have him there tomorrow.”

  Looking at the time, she stood up and walked over to the wall and looked at her car. Time to try to win a race. Getting in, she buckled up before wiggling around to get comfortable. Putting in her earplugs, she then pulled on a fire retardant hood and then held out her hand for her helmet.

  “Tell that ape the next slot over to keep the track clean or I will really introduce him to a true Southern jam session.”

  Waiting for the starter, she tried to clear of mind and concentrate on the racing, but Addi continued to sneak into her thoughts. Images of the girl walking on the beach, sleeping in bed, and that first time, when she showed up for a race...the excitement on her face was something to see.

  Her mechanic leaned over the cockpit of her car with a glare. “Ms. Dupree, I know you write my checks, but here’s your helmet. Get your head in the race or the Italians are going to be the ones carrying the flag home.”

  “You’re right...I do sign your checks. You ever say that loud enough for someone else to hear and you’ll be fired, but you’re right. Let’s go kick ass.” Sam grinned at the older man.

  The race was uneventful, much to the chagrin of the fans, as there were no accidents for them to crane their necks to see, but Sam was getting frustrated. “Tell that blocker to do his job. I can get a six-year old that can do a better job than he is,” Sam growled as the lead Italian car slid past her.

  “He says after this race, you can go get your six-year old out of school,” her pit boss sighed into the headset, watching the Italian slip into the number one spot yet again.

  The image of Addi slipped into her head and the blonde lost concentration enough so that the French driver slid past her and she dropped into third. Growling, she geared down, mentally shook her head, knocking the copper-haired girl’s image out. “That can be arranged.”

  “Good, because he just quit over the mic,” Josef, her head mechanic, cut across the line. “I sure as hell hope that kid you picked up in America can drive better than this asshole.”

  “Shit!” The rest of the race was spent trying to get past the leaders, but when it was all said and done, Sam Dupree finished in second place, behind the French.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Addison had just finished her morning class on the wiring of an F1 car’s braking system when she pushed out of a classroom door. She ran smack dab into a towering wall that reminded her of Drew, Sam’s bodyguard in Florida. Looking up from her spot on the floor, she saw a huge man with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were ice blue, and cold like glaciers, but he was smiling down at her. He reached down one massive hand and helped her up. “Uh thanks.” Addison smiled. “Oh wait I mean...crap, I don’t know French for thank you.” She cursed silently, looking at the giant.

  “Merci works most of the time. My name is Sven, and I am your new bodyguard and translator, but easy on the translator.” He handed her a bag that he was carrying that held the CD’s. “You listen to these, and you’ll be speaking like a native in no time.”

  “Ms. Dupree sent you?” Addison looked up from the backpack her new bodyguard had brought her with wide eyes.

  “Oui...she said that she would be seeing you soon. She needs to speak with your instructors to see how soon they think that you’ll be ready to start work. Now are you finished for the day or do you have an afternoon session?”

  “I have an afternoon session after lunch. It’s a few hours long, Mr. Sven.” Addison gave a weak smile as she shouldered both backpacks and her purse moving down the hallway towards the cafeteria. Secretly she was thrilled she’d be allowed to see Sam soon. Staring at photos, magazine covers, and TV specials all about her wasn’t cutting it. Even though she’d see her on race days, they hadn’t been close enough to speak.

  The blonde bodyguard fell in step and his eyes started scanning the walkway and then the cafeteria as they went inside. Grabbing a snack, he stood nearby his young charge as she ate and read through the manuals from the language courses.

  When lunch time was up, everyone went back to class, but they were directed out to the track. Once there, each of
the students was given a chance to show what they could do with blocking. Their instructor told them that they and one other driver would be on the track, and all they were to do was to prevent that driver from passing.

  Time and time again, Addison was nudged to the side as the boys had their turn. Of course, first up were the Italians, the arrogant, wine-drinking fools they were. They lasted the least amount of time, slamming into barriers and crashing cars almost immediately. Then came the French, just as egotistical but with more finesse, but they also crashed. Then the Danish, the Spaniards, and even the British had their turns.

  Addison waited patiently for her turn as the only American and only female. As her instructor walked up, she smiled thinly and waited until being spoken too. This seemed to please the instructor since he looked down at her fondly and handed her a helmet with a jumpsuit. “Mademoiselle McCloud, you are always so patient; would you kindly show us your skill?”

  Addi smiled widely and took both items. “Merci,” she said. Quietly slipping into the jumpsuit, she walked out onto the track slowly, calmly as she slid her body into the older F1 racer. She slid in earplugs, her flame retardant hood, and then lastly her helmet. She pushed on her gloves, slowly flexing her fingers so they would open up, allowing her to have more capability with her hands.

  Instead of crashing or spinning out, Addison exerted the right amount of speed to always keep ahead of the other driver who was always on her tail. If he tried to slide past her, she maneuvered the car almost effortlessly to block him from passing. Tapping the wheel, she hummed to herself as she drove. Her instructors were taking notes and writing down their opinions of her driving. After she had finished the accordance of laps, she parked the car and hauled herself out of the seat with a bit of effort. It was stifling inside the car as she yanked off her helmet and stood up, pulling off the flame retardant hood, smiling.

  “Excellent Mademoiselle McCloud...you have bested every other student here soundly, and should be rewarded.” The instructor motioned to the other driver that was pulling up behind the student’s car.

  Shutting the car off, the driver unhooked the safety belts, stood up and stepped out of the car before walking over. Reaching up to pull off the helmet, the driver released a cascade of long blonde hair and revealed the grinning face of Sam Dupree.

  “Sam!” Addison exclaimed in disbelief, sure she was seeing things. Quickly remembering her manners and the fact she was surrounded by instructors, Addi quickly covered it with a well spoke few words, “My apologies Mademoiselle Dupree, I spoke out of turn.” Addison set her helmet down on the class car and began to remove her jumpsuit, then handed everything back to her instructor. “Merci Monsieur.”

  Sam walked over to her new driver and patted her on the back. “Good job. You’re the only one that prevented me from getting by. Think that you’ll be finished with your course by the end of the month?”

  “I hope so ma’am.” Addison rubbed the back of her neck embarrassed that she’d been caught off guard by her boss. Smiling a tiny bit, she accepted a bottle of water from Sven and looked up at the towering man. “Merci Sven.”

  He nodded his head and stepped back. Sam looked at Addi, and realized that she was embarrassing her driver, so she stepped back. Nodding to the instructors, she thanked them for allowing her to test the students and excused herself. Her assistant handed Sven a note as he followed her from the track.

  Looking down at the note, Sven made no effort to open it as it was addressed to Addison, so he waited until the instructors were finished with the class before he handed it to her.

  Taking the note from her bodyguard, she smiled and thanked him again in French. Addison opened the note while juggling her schoolbooks and read it quickly. It was from Sam and, in short, it asked that Addison meet her at her own RV after her next class.

  Blushing, Addison carefully folded the note and tucked it into her purse. Her next class was on the correct etiquette between drivers and the press. Addison knew how to be polite already, but she dutifully took notes and tapped her pen on her desk, willing time to fly by.

  After finishing her lecture, she packed everything up and left the school, walking along the road to where the F1 RV drivers visiting the school kept their rolling palaces. Sam’s was already there, parked next to Addison’s, she noted with a smile. Sven checked her trailer for safety before she excused herself to shower, hoping to get in a fresh change of clothes before Sam arrived.

  Looking through the window of her own RV, Sam watched as Addison walked up the stairs and went inside. She smiled as she glanced at the leather jacket on the sofa that she had bought the young woman. She hoped that Addi liked it. Turning away, she poured herself a Jack and Coke before walking outside to sit in a canvas chair, content to wait for her driver.

  After showering, Addison wrung out her hair and blow-dried it board-straight. She lightly added some make up and slid herself into a pair of battered jeans that had seen some better days and a white V-neck undershirt, and then she sat down on her couch and pushed her feet into battered Harley Davidson motorcycle boots she’d brought from America. They came in handy when she was riding the Triumph around trying to get the parts together.

  Satisfied with her appearance, she sprayed some light perfume on her wrists and neck before leaving the trailer with Deuce in tow. Sven smiled down at her and let Deuce sniff his hand. The Rottweiler eyed him warily before sniffing him and sitting down to watch his master walk across the space between the RV’s.

  Hearing the clop of Addison’s boots, Sam turned her head to watch the woman stride forward, and her chest tightened. Addi wore simple clothing, but the way that she carried herself, showed that she was more confident now than she had been in Daytona.

  “Good job today. You’ll do a great job on the circuit.” Sam raised her tumbler in praise.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Addi pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, before gesturing to a seat not far from her boss. “May I sit down?” she asked.

  “You might wanna go inside and get what’s on the sofa first. Thought that you might be able to use one when I heard that you had bought a bike.” Sam wiggled her eyebrows.

  Scratching her head at Sam’s interesting expression with her eyebrows, Addi laughed and climbed the steps into her boss’s RV. On her sofa, was a brand new, black leather Dupree racing jacket. Her name was stenciled on the left side in lime green. Picking it up slowly, she gasped, marveling at the craftsmanship. Addi turned it over and smiled at the large number 2 on the back before she slid it on and looked in the mirror, admiring the way it looked, even running her hands down the lapels in awe. “Wow...” she whispered.

  Sam’s voice drifted in, “You wanna come out so I can see if it fits?”

  Addi jumped a bit at Samantha’s husky voice before she fanned her face. The woman just wants to see how her gift looks. Relax, she told herself, as she opened the RV door and came down the steps.

  Looking up, Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Addi in the Dupree colors. “Very nice...very nice indeed. I’m sorry that I didn’t get you a birthday gift, I hope that this helps make up for it.”

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Dupree.” Addison grinned, zipping the jacket up and patting her chest. “If I wipe out, at least the good parts will be safe,” she joked.

  Sam’s eyes instinctively dropped down to Addi’s chest and she swallowed the lump that appeared in her throat. “Yes, well...I want the whole package to be safe, so no crazy moves or tricks on the bike, okay?”

  “You got it boss.” Addison had never been a daredevil, not even as a teenager. Preferring to get by with her skill, she saved the tricks for the stuntmen and the idiots who were okay with losing a limb or two. “So you wanna see it?” She grinned. “I mean my bike.”

  “Oh, I most definitely want to see it.” Sam swallowed the rest of her drink and stood up. She didn’t admit to herself how much she wanted to see the entire package, but wasn’t going to deny herself the chance to spend some tim
e with the young woman.

  “Good, like the French, I didn’t want to take no for an answer.” Addison giggled a tiny bit before unzipping the jacket and leading the way around to the other side of her RV. Sitting propped up against the RV and gleaming in the sunlight was Addison’s freshly painted Triumph Bonneville, a fully restored 1971.

  Walking around the bike, Sam nodded her head appreciatively. “Very nice. You got lucky finding this.”

  “Yeah.” Addison took off her jacket and laid it over the seat to lean against the side of the RV to stare at her newest possession. “Cost me a couple of Eurodollars and the only signed photograph of you I had.” Addi winked with a grin. “It was a piece of junk, but I’ve been working on it all week. Guess Arnie told you that though huh?”

  “I promise to sign anything that you want, to make it up for you.” Sam knelt next to the bike, and looked at it with a critical eye. The engine was clean and the bike looked like it was taken off the showroom floor. “You do good work. Nicely done.”

  “Thanks.” Addison beamed with pride, but not before she could stop her mind from the inevitable, a little voice inside her head bit out a tasty little reply, “What if I wanted you to sign your name over my heart?” Addison covered her mouth so the reply didn’t slip past her lips and she swept it under the rug with an ill-timed cough.

  Standing up, Sam took a deep breath. “My next race is in three weeks, and I’m going to need for you to be ready. Your instructors said that you have a week left, so that would give us two weeks of practice time.” She stepped closer to the younger woman. “You ready to start earning your pay?”

  The younger driver gulped hard at being challenged outright by the world’s best female driver. Addison smiled weakly. “I’d like to give it my best shot, ma’am.”