At the tender age of eight months, Pearl the observation car had not had high expectations for race night. Yes, she had agreed to be partners with her good friend, Rusty the aptly named steam locomotive, who sometimes worked as a switch engine in the coach yard where she lived (when Control was not sending him everywhere else on the huge property); however, she had not really been expecting her earnest partner to win the race and become the new holder of the Silver Dollar. If Pearl was honest, she had not expected Rusty even to win his elimination heat and get into the final. Instead the pretty observation car had just been looking forward to having fun beside Rusty for however long they were part of the festivities - and when an exciting electric stranger had offered her the chance to race with him, she accepted, thinking at the time that it was the most marvelous thing to happen to her.
So, for her to find herself as the new coach of the famous Greaseball just minutes before the final race had not even occurred to her - and yet here she was now, grasping the loops of his holdings while the handsome engine soared down the track, leaving behind that pretentious, possessive prima donna of an electric engine while Greaseball's diesel friends zoomed after them like they were all part of a pack.
This is really happening! the young car internally squealed as she stared at the wonderful head of black hair which was Greaseball's pride and joy, and her artificial insides leapt with girlish joy. In the eight short months of her life, Pearl had gotten to see Greaseball quite a lot as the Union Pacific locomotive visited the yard almost every weekend. Even before she had been old enough to notice boys, Pearl had thought he was nice to look at and had a warm smile - and when she had reached her third month and had begun the mental transition from child to adult, she could not deny that her heart leapt when he offered to give her rides around the yard or grabbed her hands to teach her an easy swing dance move.
Not that she would have ever acted upon those feelings - especially since Greaseball only came to the yard so often because of one blue carriage in particular.
Pearl felt a twinge of guilt as she thought of the crestfallen dining car they had left behind them. Dinah the dining car was not only Greaseball's steady girlfriend, but she had practically been a big sister to Pearl since the observation car had first arrived in the yard. A beautiful blonde in a blue tablecloth dress, Dinah's soul was as sweet as her homemade snickerdoodles. She had provided snacks when Pearl had fretted over the essays the school car used to assign, and she listened to Pearl's fears and taught her how to serve passengers properly. The coach of a famous celebrity did not have to waste even two seconds on a little carriage, but Dinah had always been supportive of Pearl and looked out for her when the boy coaches teased her.
However, it had become necessary for Pearl to get away from her previous partner, and Greaseball had given her the fastest way out of a public breakup. Dinah seemed to have misinterpreted Greaseball's bravado for something else, and Pearl was sure she had been close to tears when they left, despite Pearl's insistence that her new partnership was only in fun.
I'll explain everything after the race, Pearl promised herself. Surely, Dinah did not actually think a eight-month-old carriage could steal the attention of the reigning champion who the entire world adored. By the end of the night, the two coaches would be laughing over the whole thing.
Pearl turned her attention forward, focusing on the studded shield of the Union Pacific that graced the back of Greaseball's black-and-yellow vest. Immediately, she felt her stomach give a nervous clench, and she hoped her own appearance would not look out of place behind a well-known hunk decked in such distinct livery. When Control had commissioned her from the factory, he had picked a design that would fit his excursion train for tourists: a coach that doubled as a salute to yesterday while embracing tomorrow. Pearl was the first observation car built in decades, a slim carriage with large windows that lined her arms and legs. Her synthetic skin had been painted tawny brown, and her black hair had been styled into a high braided ponytail long enough to drape in front of her shoulder. Both her short dress made of panels and her limbs were pearl white and crafted to look sleek and efficient. While her look might work for Control and the other carriages on Pearl's train, that did not guarantee she would complement Greaseball when the newspaper reporters came forward to take their pictures after Greaseball won the Silver Dollar for the ninth year in a row. The last thing she wanted was for the whole world to say that the diesel could have done better.
Now, Greaseball pulled her down a line which Pearl knew led to the well-kept area where the out-of-town racers stayed, but to her surprise he suddenly swerved to the right, taking her toward a wooded area that visitors enjoyed. Pearl noticed his diesel friends began to roll after them, but Greaseball jerked his hand, and the locomotives braked.
A few of the guys sent back knowing hoots which made Pearl's face heat, but Greaseball paid them no mind as he pulled her into the starlight.
As if! Pearl thought quickly, banishing the images that flashed across her mind, none of which would have helped her friendship with Dinah.
Greaseball hauled her down a track lined with white lampposts which ended at a ledge that offered guests an excellent view. The scent of the pine trees, waist high to the two vehicles, and different kinds of night flowers hung sleepily in the summer night air as Greaseball at last braked and turned toward his new partner.
Pearl felt the gears inside her mechanical heart quickened as his gorgeous black eyes met her brown ones. He leaned just a little closer, and she caught the faintest hint of diesel fumes, which would have been unpleasant to a human, but to a starstruck carriage, it was mesmerizing.
"Alone at last," Greaseball winked, flashing her a smile that looked white even at night. It was no wonder he had graced the covers of quite a few magazines aimed at lady cars. The tall locomotive had well-greased black hair that would have made Elvis jealous, wrapped with a yellow headband that read UNION PACIFIC in red letters. A true athlete, he had the bulky frame of an experienced bodybuilder, and he had all the charisma of Han Solo. Though Pearl knew he had been built back in the 1950s, he did not look like he was in his thirties but rather seemed just as new as the observation car. "Hope you don't mind getting away from the crowd for a while," he added, playfully wagging his black eyebrows.
"Not at all," Pearl assured him, a little breathless. It's not gonna happen, Pearl. He's just being friendly. Like he always is.
He turned his eyes down the track, a mischievous, satisfied smirk dancing upon his lips. "Bet Sparky is still short circuiting back there. He didn't look happy to lose you."
At the thought of Electra, Pearl felt her synthetic skin grow hot with both rage and embarrassment. When the superstar challenger had shown up in his glittery paints and impressive lights display, Pearl had been smitten with him. When Electra had sent his money truck to ask the observation car to replace his coach, who had been suffering a headache, the only thing that had kept Pearl from flying to him was her previous arrangement with Rusty - and when Electra had crossed the finish line, tied with Greaseball in the first heat, Pearl had thought she had made the right decision to go with the electric locomotive. The young carriage cringed to think that less than an hour ago she had declared to the other rolling stock that Electra was her train now, the dream man who was her knight in designer armor.
Yet, mere minutes before, he had shown his true colors. The four finalists, their partners and teams, and few other cars had all been rolling around the yard together, waiting for the final race to begin - and then out of nowhere Electra had started insulting Greaseball and Dinah. Pearl had been willing to overlook it as a typical macho display to mess with the competition, but then someone had goaded Greaseball to ask Pearl to race with him. What had come out of Electra's mouth next had proven her knight to be a knave.
"Well," Pearl finally replied, bristling, "it doesn't matter what he thinks. He doesn't own me."
"True, true," Greaseball agreed, nodding with a smile. "It was stupid of him to just come out and say, 'You can't have Pearl!' What is he, two months old or something?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"I didn't even ask," Pearl admitted, "but I wasn't gonna stay with somebody who thinks I'm a toy to fight over."
Greaseball grinned. "Smart move. A lady like you shouldn't be paired up with a little boy anyway." He looped his thumbs on his belt and gave her a wink. "Of course, now you're the partner of a real champion," he bragged. "I'll make sure you enjoy all the perks, sweetheart." He began to list off his fingers. "Interviews, tours, gift baskets at hotels - "
"Yeah, Dinah really likes those!" Pearl interrupted excitedly - right before she realized what she had said. Pearl looked down and began to fiddle with her draping black braid as if somehow feeling the synthetic fibers through her white gloves would bring her comfort. "I mean, not that you and me are - you know," she stressed, positive her face was hot enough to fry an egg in seconds. "What we are isn't what you and her are."
Greaseball scoffed, folding his arms. "There's no more of 'what me and her are.'"
Pearl looked at him in surprise. "What?"
An annoyed expression had overtaken his tan face. "Well, she and I ain't so close right now," Greaseball said, drumming his fingers upon his riveted muscles. "I didn't want to say anything publicly, you know, but I couldn't race with her no more."
Pearl gaped at him, unable to believe her ears. Greaseball and Dinah uncoupled? Ever since Pearl had laid eyes upon the two, they had always been openly affectionate with each other, kissing and dancing whenever music played on the raido. Magazines had dedicated article after article to declare them the perfect pair, speculating when wedding bells would ring for them.
"What happened?" asked Pearl carefully.
Greaseball looped an arm around her windowed shoulders and lowered his voice as if he thought the paparazzi might be listening. "After we won the first race, she started digging into me, saying that I cheated Turnov the Russian," he confided. "She was screeching it loud enough for trains over in Mexico to hear her!"
Pearl blinked. "Dinah did that?"
Greaseball jerked a nod, removing his arm again. He looked out over the treetops beneath them. "Crazy carriage."
Pearl frowned and thought back to the first heat - truth be told, she had been too focused on clinging to Electra's belt at their breakneck speed (and admiring how cute he looked from the back) to notice her surroundings at the time. She vaguely recalled something happening to Turnov, but she did not remember if the all-seeing Control had called anyone out on it. "Well, Red Caboose was racing with Turnov," Pearl remembered at last, knitting her dark brow, "and he's always honest. He would have spoken up if you had cheated."
"Exactly," Greaseball agreed, giving her an approving smile before it contorted into a scowl. "But loose lips sink ships, Pearl girl. Even if it ain't true, that kind of accusation could get me fired. Do you know how many trains would just love to make me look bad?" he demanded. "Or what the press would do with that? So, I had to uncouple her. I'm not about to become homeless over that trash talk."
Pearl nodded slowly. It was a tricky situation, even without his celebrity status. Her thoughts drifted to Rusty, who had been neglected to the point of corrosion, and except for a few allies, the other rolling stock in the yard were always saying mean things either to him or about him. Such a fate would be even worse for someone like Greaseball, who was a household name on many a railroad.
Pearl frowned. "Why would Dinah do something like that?"
Greaseball shook his head. "Search me. She's always acting jealous if one of my female fans wants an autograph. I remember her getting upset because one wanted to give me a hug. Then she found out it was just a five-week-old kid."
That did sound like Dinah, Pearl mulled, feeling her face fall. Their mutual friends, Buffy and Ashley, sometimes jokingly offered to race with Greaseball, but then Dinah would tell them that Greaseball belonged to her - sometimes with an immature whine. "She might have felt stressed with race night and everyone paying attention to you," Pearl offered charitably, trying not to judge her friend too much.
"Well, she can cool off first before she races with me again," Greaseball said darkly. The shadow then passed from his face, and his eyes swept up and down, studying her. "Lucky for me, I got somebody as sweet as you to ride with me into the final."
Pearl looked away, feeling a shy, but flattered, smile stretch across her face. Greaseball always knew what to say to awaken the butterflies in her artificial stomach. "I'd do anything for you, Greaseball," she mumbled. "A-As a friend," she added quickly.
She heard him move closer, bringing with him that wonderful scent, and she looked up to meet his eyes. Her heartbeat increased as Greaseball grinned down at her with a warm look that was not exactly brotherly. "You've just about blossomed overnight, didn't ya, kid?" he observed. "When I came by to visit the coach yard earlier this week and saw you twirling around, I remember thinking to myself, 'This can't be little Pearl girl. She's far too gorgeous and grown-up!'"
Pearl self-consciously gripped the tail of her long braid again, feeling tongue tied. "Oh, you," she murmured, wishing she possessed Ashley's or Buffy's ability to have witty dialogues with boys.
He tapped the tip of her nose. "You know, I'm surprised no train has snatched you up yet."
"I haven't found the right one," she mumbled, twisting her braid in her hands. Well, she had briefly considered Rusty after they started spending so much time together to train for the race, but Ashley had pointed out that they were from opposite sides of the track, so it would not have worked out. The only other train she had contemplated entrusting her heart to had been Electra - and look where that had gotten her.
Greaseball chuckled, and to Pearl's delight, his strong fingers glided over her black hair. "I have a feeling a pretty vehicle like you ain't gonna be waiting long."
A soft giggle escaped the carriage - and Pearl promptly regretted it. He's not interested in me, dummy. He just broke up with Dinah. He's probably all heartbroken inside, but he's putting on a brave face for my benefit.
Pearl tried to hide her disappointment. Of course, Greaseball did not really want her. He sweet talked all the coaches, but he was devoted to his dining car. In his eyes, Pearl was probably a kid sister who was finally old enough for him to tease about boys.
Pearl drew back from him, turning away as if she were interested in observing the mountainous view surrounding them. Time to change the subject. "Thanks for taking me into the race, Greaseball," she said, forcing her voice to sound as light as she could muster. "I won't let you down."
"All things considered, I think you did pretty well racing with Sparky," he said admiringly. "Imagine what you can do with a man who knows what he's doing." With an easy glide, he maneuvered until he stood in front of her. A calculating expression had appeared, mingled with a satisfied smirk. "You know tonight is gonna be my ninth year winning the Dollar. I think my tenth year ought to be pretty special. Maybe I should take an extra special coach with me."
Pearl felt a genuine smile return. "You mean it?" she all but squealed.
Greaseball nodded firmly, still studying her. "You'd be doing me a favor, Pearl girl," he said slowly. "The directors at the Union Pacific think I ought to retire from racing, but with fresh wheels like you behind me, I could convince them to give me another ten years."
Pearl's brown eyes widened. First, Dinah was acting crazy, and now the Union Pacific wanted Greaseball to quit racing? Were there any more unpleasant surprises in store tonight? "Why would they want to retire you? You always win!"
Greaseball scoffed. "They think a thirty-two-year-old loco ought to step aside and let the new trains have a shot."
"That's ridiculous!" Pearl declared. If she had been connected to an electric source, she was sure all her fans would have been whirling in protest. Who did the company directors think they were to replace a legend like Greaseball after all the publicity he had earned for them? That was as bad as the rolling stock who teased Rusty for being a steamer! "Well, I think no other diesel can replace you," she insisted, laying a hand against his metal chest. "I hope you keep racing until you're as old as Poppa!"
As soon as she had said it, she cringed at the cheesy statement. That was just the kind of hyperbole a three-week-old carriage would have said, not a mature eight-month-old woman.
She averted her eyes, expecting him to laugh at her youthful silliness - but instead, miraculously, his hand came up and touched her chin. Pearl's breath hitched as Greaseball's gentle fingers tilted her head back until she met his gorgeous gaze.
...Which had a lot more interest than she had expected.
"You stay sweet, Pearl girl," he said, and before Pearl could fully process what was happening, Greaseball leaned down and tenderly pressed his warm firm lips against hers.
It only lasted a few seconds, but it made Pearl close her eyes without meaning to - and she was sure it would have lasted even longer if it were not for the electronic crackle that suddenly emitted from Greaseball's engineer compartment.
The diesel engine drew back, and Pearl saw annoyance cross his chiseled features. "Who could be calling me now?" he muttered. He gave Pearl's arm a single touch before he rolled aside to answer his radio.
Pearl wrapped her white arms around her slim torso. I just kissed Greaseball - I just KISSED Greaseball! She touched her fingers to her lips, relishing the lingering taste of diesel. Her first real kiss.
...But then she remembered the tear-stained face of the blonde dining car they had left behind. Pearl swallowed. If Dinah had accused Greaseball of cheating in the race, what would she say when she discovered what Pearl had done with her engine?
Ex-engine, a defiant part of her countered. It was Dinah's own fault for driving Greaseball away, and just like how Electra did not own Pearl, Dinah did not have any claim Greaseball now. Pearl had done nothing wrong.
...Right?
Her ears perked as she suddenly heard Greaseball turn again, and the engine gave her an apologetic smile. "Red Caboose needs me for something," he explained, rolling forward to take her hand. "How about I drop you off somewhere that you can relax while I take care of it?"
Pearl gave him a shy grin, the guilt on her conscience vanishing, and she squeezed his hand. "Of course, Greaseball."
He dropped her off in the coach yard near her shed, giving her a parting peck on her cheek, and before Pearl entered her home to freshen up before the race, she looked over her shoulder in time to see the gang of diesel engines rejoin Greaseball and head off down the rails with him. The coach found it a little odd, but then again she had not heard the conversation between Greaseball and Red Caboose.
She shut the door behind her and leaned back against it, taking in several deep breaths. She closed her eyes, grinning. When she was younger, she had daydreamed of growing up and marrying Greaseball, though she had known even at that age the chances of him ever wanting her were slim to none. Yet now...
She pushed herself off the door, intending to go to her mirror to check her appearance, when her eyes fell upon the shelf where she stored her possessions.
Her girlish grin faded a little.
Atop the shelf, out of place from her much nicer belongings, sat a beaten-up cassette player, on loan from her friend, Rusty. Beside it laid a few mixtapes which the impoverish steamer had managed to acquire over the years. He had let Pearl borrow his modest collection after she had expressed frustration over how trains kept referencing music that had been popular long before her creation. The tape on top of the pile had a label with Rusty's scribbled handwriting announcing "Engine of Love", which was the steamer's favorite song.
Pearl grimaced at the pile. Rusty had loaned it freely to her, even though he had little to share with anyone - but he had been happy to help the friend who had promised to go with him into the race. What did he think about her leaving Electra for Greaseball instead of going back to him?
I always said if someone new came along, I'd leave, she argued, pushing back the thought. It was not like she and Rusty were dating or something. They had gone into the race just as friends, so she was free to leave him for someone she wanted even more. Besides, Pearl had heard Red Caboose offer to race with him earlier, so it was not as if Rusty was without options.
Yet even as she went through her list of rationalizations, the observation car could not stop the twist of her heart as she remembered the disappointment on his face when Pearl had asked him to leave so that she could have time to choose between him and Electra.
...But if Rusty really was her friend, he would be happy that she had found an engine as wonderful as Greaseball.
I can be happy with Greaseball, she told herself. I've liked him for most of my life - and he wants me now. I can't go wrong here. With that, she picked up her make-up brush and began to apply a new coat of blush to please her new (and very beloved) diesel engine.
THE END
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A/N:
On the Canadian Pacific, there was a school car that did rounds on company property to teach children of railroad workers and aboriginals (and sometimes their parents). Make of that what you will, fanfic writers.