Illyasviel
A Princess in NASCAR
Test Run
Charlotte Motor Speedway
January 27, 2005
It was a cold yet clear day at the speedway. Several NASCAR teams from both the Busch Series and the Nextel Cup series were testing their vehicles in preparation for their upcoming respective seasons. Cars ran around the track, pit crews worked on them in the garage or in the pits while drivers talked with their crew chiefs on how they should run.
For one man, it brought back many memories when he had first been involved with the sport. It had been nearly twenty-six years since he last stepped onto a NASCAR race track. If it not been for one young lady he never would have come back. Now he was here, and he was relishing everything he saw, heard, and smelled.
He was giant of a man with harsh looking deeply tanned face and a powerfully muscled body despite being in his late fifties. His dark hair was streak with grey and his hazel brown eyes held an intensity that would draw everyone's attention. At first glance one would think this giant could snap you in half just with his eyes, but his smiling face showed that he was as gentle as a teddy bear.
However, the man was actually looking for one of his old friends who had remained in this sport long after he'd left. Despite having left he had followed the sport over the years and had watched the progress of his old friend who had built a team back during the 70s, the same man he had worked for as his crew chief while building engines for Dodge.
While his friend's name wasn't as big as Rick Hendricks or Joe Gibbs, it was still well known. Yet despite his friend having successful seasons he still had yet to win a championship in the Cup series after winning three in the Busch series. Well, that was about to change.
The man finally found his friend's pit box and the man he looking for. A Dodge stock car was in the pit box with the crew currently working on it. The driver was talking to the team and what he assumed to be the crew chief.
"Are you sure about these settings?" he heard the driver say to the team owner in a rather annoyed voice.
"It's my car after all," said the owner, "I set it up perfectly to suit your driving style. You should now be able to perform better lap times."
"Alright," the driver put his helmet back on, "I'll take your word for it."
The giant leaned against a gas can and grinned as he watched the driver get back in the car and the crew chief climbing back up the pit box. Moments later the engine roared to life and the car sped away. He waited patiently and watched the car passed by on the race track while the owner talked to his driver over the scanner.
"Good," he heard him say a minute later, "Run as many laps as you want to and then bring it in."
The giant stepped closer and said, "Still using those unorthodox settings on your car Paul? I would have thought you had grown out of that by now."
Team owner Paul Egger of Egger Motorsports spun around when he heard the deep masculine voice. A frown was his face for suddenly being distracted but when he saw who it was that spoke his jaw dropped to the ground.
"Stephan Sito," he said in complete astonishment, "My God!"
Laughing, former race car builder Stephan Sito stepped clasp his friend's smaller hand with his big one.
"You're still alive you big son of bitch!" Paul embraced him in a hug.
"Still alive and kicking," Stephan returned with a bear hug.
"Stephan?" said another voice.
Both men looked up to where the crew chief was staring down at them, his face equally astonished.
"My God! Is that really you?!"
Stephan held his arms, "In the flesh Jeremy."
Crew Chief Jeremy Nosek all but sprinted down the steps and embraced the giant.
"I can't believe it!" he laughed, "Where the hell have you been?! It's been like what? Twenty-five years?"
"Twenty-six, come Daytona," Stephan corrected.
"Dad?" said a third voice.
They turned to see a younger man following the crew chief down the steps.
"Who is this?" he asked, staring at the giant.
"Remember him, Stephan?" Paul grinned.
"I certainly do," Stephan held out a hand, "You were only a baby the last time I saw you, Joshua. No bigger than my hand as I recall."
"You're Stephan Sito?" the young man eyes widened, "My dad talked about you and I've seen pictures of you."
"You sure sprouted yourself," Stephan clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, "What are you doing in the pits? I thought you would have become a race car driver yourself."
"Tried it," Joshua shrugged, "Just wasn't able to work for me. I realized I was better working in the pits than in a car."
"But enough about that," Jeremy interrupted, "What brings you here, Stephan?"
"Yes, indeed," said Paul, "There's must be a reason for you suddenly showing after being gone for so long without sending one word. I recall you telling me sincerely that you were done with NASCAR."
"I did say that," Stephan admitted, "But recent events involving last year has persuaded me to come back."
"Oh?" Paul raised a knowing eyebrow, "I'm assuming you want your old job back?"
"No. At least not necessarily," Stephan shrugged, "But it would be nice if you guys really did want me back."
"What are you talking about?" Jeremy frowned, "Of course we want you back! The team's never been the same since you left."
"I'm also guessing you have a favor to ask of me?" Paul went on.
"That's the main reason why I'm here," Stephan took a breath, "I understand you're looking for a driver to pilot you Busch car for this year. Am I right?"
"I do," Paul frowned suddenly, "But we already finished doing test runs for new drivers. You have someone in mind?"
"I do," Stephan said proudly, "I would very much appreciate if you can take a look."
Paul stared at him for a moment and then crossed arms, "Let me get this straight. You disappear for twenty-six years. Now all of a sudden you show up and you want me to see this driver you suddenly found?"
"Ah, come on Dad," said Joshua, "What's the harm of testing a new driver?"
"I agree," said Jeremy, "And besides you haven't even picked out who's gonna drive yet. Do us all a favor and let's see this driver Stephan has for old friendship's sake."
Paul looked at his pit crew and gave an exaggerated sigh, "Alright. So who is he? And where's he from?"
A big mischievous grin formed on Stephan's face.
"It's not a he. It's a she," he waited for the surprise to sink in before adding, "And she's from Germany."
The team owner, crew chief, and the owner's son all blinked at him.
"Germany?" they all said in unison
Stephan only continued grinning.
"Stephan," Paul sighed again, clearly convinced that he old friend was messing around with him, "How much were you drinking before you came here?"
"It's the truth," Stephan assured, laughing, "She really is from Germany and she wants to take a shot at NASCAR."
"Okay," Paul still wasn't convinced, "Has she driven anything related to NASCAR?"
"She's driven sprint cars through various races during the second half of last year. Before that she was in the street racing scene on the Racer's Freeway in Baltimore and New York and she's driven a number of road courses including Watkins Glen and Daytona. While she was growing up in Germany she drove go karts and Formula 3 cars."
"Is she a transfer student or something?" asked Joshua.
"She was. She was attending the University of Maryland at the time before I met her and she was even doing modeling for a fashion magazine over in Baltimore."
"A fashion model?" now Jeremy looked unconvinced, "Now I know you've been drinking."
"Again, it's the honest truth," Stephan assured, "Although some of the young ones here might know who she is when she arrives since she's become well known in the modeling world."
At that moment they overheard a pair of members from the pit crew in the next stall looking excitedly over a fashion magazine while talking about a super model named Illya.
"Man, what would I give to have date with Illya," said one.
"I know, right?!" said another, "She's so freakin' hot!"
Paul looked at Stephan, who's grin only widened.
"So when is this driver of yours suppose to arrive?"
Stephan looked at his watch, "Any moment now."
The minutes passed by slowly as they waited in eager anticipation for this female driver from Germany to arrive. Paul placed his scanner back on and told his driver to bring the car into pit lane soon so they could prepare for the test drive.
"Whoa, cool!" they heard Joshua yell from atop of the pit box some minutes later, binoculars in his hands, "Hey, Dad! A Dodge Viper just pulled into the infield!"
He pointed to where they could see the top of the said sports car coming in.
Stephan grinned again, "That would be her. I told her to come directly to the pit area."
His friends stared at him again, and the looks on their faces made it difficult to keep a straight face. He definitely been looking forward to this.
The custom built 2004 Dodge Viper SRT-10 rolled along the lane behind the pit wall and already it was attracting attention. Team members and visiting spectators from both pit lane and the garage area stopped and stared. The vehicle was painted white with matching white wheels. Two red sport stripes ran along the top while gold stripes decorated the sides. On the top of the windshield was a sticker displaying the car's nickname: Heaven's Ride.
Stephan's friends stared at him once again, wondering if this was some kind of joke. Suppressing the urge to laugh, he stepped forward and waved at the approaching vehicle. The driver saw him and pulled up alongside Paul Egger's pit stall. Everyone paused from their jobs and stared with open curiosity as the driver shut the engine off.
The driver's door opened, the driver got out, and everyone either stopped what they were doing or forgot what they were supposed to do. Time itself seemed to stop as a stunningly beautiful nineteen-year old girl emerged from the vehicle.
She was slim, of average height, and with skin as pale as snow. Her long hair was just as pale and it fell freely down her back like a waterfall with the sunlight shimmering on it. A brilliant pair of amethyst eyes match the purple winter coat she wore along with the old fashioned pillbox hat on her pale head. A white silk scarf was also wrapped around her throat. Her angelic features seemed unnatural, as if she didn't belong in this world.
Aside from the sounds of cars running around the racetrack, silence had completely engulfed the pit lane. Everyone stared, mesmerized by this stunning creature. It was if a royal princess had stepped right out of a fairy tale and into the real world.
"Omigod!" the same nearby pit crew member gasped when he saw her, "That's Illya!"
"No way! It really is her!"
Voices murmured in excitement and awe. The girl didn't seem to notice as she pulled out a gear bag from the car. She shut the door and locked the vehicle before walking-gliding-over to where Stephan stood. A faint gust of wind lifted the bottom of her coat a little, revealing that she wearing a racing suit underneath, raising a lot of eyebrows and causing loud whispers. As she approached Stephan, she flashed him a heart melting smile.
"Stephan," she greeted.
"Hey there, kid," Stephan hugged her tightly, causing more whispers and raising eyebrows, "Glad to see you made alright. Hope the trip was enjoyable."
"It was a very scenic route," she said, "I had no idea North Carolina could be so beautiful this time of year."
Her accent rang clear in her voice, yet she spoke in way that made people understand her words. The voice itself, however, was just as mesmerizing as her unnatural beauty. Clear and melodic like a fairy tale princess.
The girl looked around the much larger man, who towered over by nearly two feet, and her gaze settled on the team owner.
"Mr. Egger, I presume?" she asked.
"Uh…" for a moment, Paul was at a lost for words for he had just been as caught off guard as everyone else had by the appearance of this celestial being, "Yes."
Shifting her bag to her other hand, she approached and held out her hand, flashing him that same brilliant smile.
"Illyasviel Von Einzbern," she introduced herself, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Uh…" again he was at a lost of words as he took the slender gloved hand, "The pleasure is mine, Miss Einzbern."
Her smiled deepened, "Please, call me Illya. I much prefer it that way."
This time he blushed like a teenage school boy, "C-Certainly."
Over Illya's shoulder he saw Stephan a big hand covering his mouth, his entire body shaking with laughter. He shot him a look before clearing his throat, putting his business face on.
"Stephan tells me you've been driving a variety of race cars, from open-wheels to sprints, correct?"
"Yes," she nodded.
"And now all of a sudden you want try out NASCAR."
"Not try out," she corrected, "I actually want to join NASCAR."
Murmurs exploded all around them. A girl from Germany actually wanting to join NASCAR? The very idea was unheard of!
At that moment Paul Egger's stock car finally rolled into his pit stall, along with several others. The driver got out and when he saw who the new driver was he stopped and stared in astonishment as everyone else did. The other drivers seemed to have come in for the very same reason.
Illyasveil Von Einzbern looked at the stock car in eager anticipation. She may finally get a chance to drive one!
"You do, huh?" she heard Paul Egger say, "And what do you about stock cars?"
"Well…" Illya kindly asked the pit crew to make way for her, which they hastily did. Placing her bag on top of the pit wall, she stepped over and began to inspect the car, "It's America's most popular motorsport. For the Cup series, each car carries a 358 cubic inch Pushrod V8 engine with a total of seven hundred twenty-five horsepower, lowered to four hundred forty-five on restrictor plate racetracks. Four speed gear box with a three disc clutch, a minimum weight of thirty-three hundred pounds, an eighteen gallon gas tank, Goodyear tire slicks-"
"Alright, alright," Paul waved his hands, ignoring the sniggers around him, "So you know about the car from the inside out. Know anything about how it handles on the racetrack?"
"Certainly," Illya nodded her head toward the track, "When a car's loose it's back end starts to fish tail. When it's tight it pushes up the racetrack and refuses to turn. This can happen anywhere in the turns on any track. To fix these handling problems, adjustments can be made through the track bar, wedge, shocks, sway bar, tire pressure, or even with spring rubbers. It's all about finding the perfect balance for the driver."
The men started to cheer and applauded. Illya smiled and inclined her head.
"You certainly done your homework," said Paul once things quieted back down.
"Whenever I take on a new project, I do as much research as I can," Illya said proudly.
"So I see, but I'm still not certain if I should let you drive my car."
Illya, along with several others including Stephan, frowned.
"Come on, Dad," said Joshua, "She made the trip all the way here. Let her drive."
Everyone agreed in murmurs.
"Let me drive, please" Illya begged gently, "Before I came to America I had no idea what I was going to do with my racing career. Stephan introduced me to American cars and American motorsports and I've become fascinated with them during my brief time here. Ever since then I've wanted to drive one of these. Even dreamed of it. If nothing else, just this once will be good enough for me. I won't wreck your vehicle. You have my word on that."
Paul was amazed by her compassion and determination. How could he say no to that?
"You know anything about Charlotte?" he asked.
A smile of excitement forming on her lips, Illya glanced out toward the race track.
"It hosts two races, in addition to the All-Star Race," she said, "with the 600 being the longest of the season. The tunnel turn is known to be very difficult to navigate through."
"That's right," Paul confirmed, "Whether it's hot or cold it gets real slick out there. So for the first few laps I want you to take it easy. Then, once you're comfortable in the car, you can go all out. Deal?"
Illya flashed her brilliant smile again, "Deal."
With that she opened up her gear bag and took out her helmet, racing gloves, and HANS device. After switching gloves she took off her coat and scarf, revealing a purple and white racing suit. Gathering up the rest of her gear, she turned toward the car-and found herself looking at a tall and handsome young man.
"Heard you're from Germany," he said.
"That's right," she responded.
"Hmm," the man took a moment to look her over, "Go ahead and take the car out. Only make sure you don't put a single dent in it or I'll be kicking your sorry ass all the way back to Germany."
Angry growls were heard by the man's rude remark, but Illya silenced them by turning her head and giving them a grin and a wink. Turning away while they cheered she looked at her helmet and, taking a deep breath, place it on her head. Lifting her leg, she climbed into the stock car for the very first time.
Stephan came over and helped her connect her HANS device to the seat before handing her the steering wheel.
"Don't let that guy get to you," he said.
"Don't worry," she grinned again as she slid the wheel on, "I am an unexpected guess after all."
"Remember what I taught you about driving on the speedway," he reminded her.
"I haven't forgotten," she replied affectionately.
Chuckling, Stephan patted his big hand on her shoulder, "Have fun out there, kid."
After he stepped away, Illya looked at the ignition switch and took another breath. She was about to become the first woman from Germany to ever drive an American stock car! Reaching out with a nervous hand, she flicked on the switches and the engine roared to life.
It was louder than she expected and it even made her jump. The entire car seemed to vibrate from the power of the engine. Forcing a chuckle to calm herself down, she placed the car in first gear and rolled out of the pit box.
By now everyone in the infield had heard about the unexpected guest and had come out to see for themselves. All eyes were now trained on the black and yellow stock car as it went out onto the racetrack and began to pick up speed.
Paul put his headset back on and waited until Illya had completed her first lap before switching on the radio.
"How's it feel, driver?"
"Wonderful!" came Illya's excited voice, "My only complaint is that the steering wheel is too big."
Others, including Stephan, had also put on a headset and laughed when they heard her reply.
"Well, you're just going to have to deal with it," Paul chuckled, then frowned. Something had been bugging him ever since the girl introduced herself, "Einzbern. Einzbern," he repeated again and again, "Why does that name sound so familiar?"
"Does Klaus Von Einzbern ring a bell?" Stephan said over his shoulder.
Paul's head snapped around as he remembered, "You mean the Formula One team owner from Germany?"
"That's the one," Stephan nodded, "He actually attended a few NASCAR races when Formula One was coming to the States."
Shock held Paul immobile for moment before he pointed his finger out toward the racetrack, "That's his kid out there right now?"
"His younger one. Her older brother Siegfried just recently joined his father's team."
Paul still couldn't believe it. Klaus Von Einzbern was one of the most renowned Formula One team owners in Europe. Now his daughter was driving his Cup car. It was just impossible to believe. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back toward the racetrack.
Another two laps went before he said, "Okay, kid. You've shown me you can drive the car. Now we'll do a time trial. Go ahead and drop the hammer."
"Danke!" came Illya's reply.
Paul turned to his son just as Illya came out of turn four, "Get that stop watch ready."
Everyone watched with excited faces as Illya crossed the start/finish line, now driving at full speed. Big grins began to spread as she flew down the racetrack. She passed the line again and Paul immediately looked at the stop watch Joshua showed him.
"Wow," he lifted an eyebrow, "Not bad."
Several others had also gotten their stop watches out and were just as impressed with Illya's first timed lap. But when she passed by on the second lap, almost everyone started cheering and clapping.
"Damn!" someone yelled, "She came within a millisecond of breaking the track record!"
Paul looked at Stephan, who was grinning like a schoolboy.
"Alright," he said, "What's the story between you two?"
Stephan chuckled, "Invite me to lunch and I'll tell you then."
Paul wanted to press Stephan but decided it as better to wait, "Deal."
Grinning, Stephan switched on the radio, "Having fun out there, kid?"
"I most certainly am, Uncle Hercules!" Illya replied happily.
Paul and several others looked at Stephan, grinning at the unusual nickname.
"Uncle Hercules?" he asked.
Stephan laughed gleefully, "Again, I'll tell you during lunch."
A few more laps passed by before Paul decided to bring her in back to pit lane. But just before he did, Jeremy tapped him on the shoulder.
"Some of the guys just went out," he said, indicating the few cars that were now leaving pit lane, "I think they want to test her. Let's see how she does in traffic."
Paul thought about it for a moment and inclined his head before going back on the radio, "Some cars are coming out of pit lane, Illya. See if you can pass them without getting the car scratched."
"Sure thing!" responded Illya.
From the corner of his eye he saw his Cup driver frown at him. He ignored him and concentrated on the young lady driving his car right now. Like many others he was amazed by Illya's performance so far.
"Now I really want to hear the story between you two," he said to Stephan, "because she's a damn good driver."
"And to think she's never driven a stock car before," added Joshua.
Illya soon caught up to the other cars, four of them to be precise. Through binoculars and TV cameras, everyone watch eagerly as Illya went to work on passing them one by one.
The first one she flew right by on the outside on the back straightaway as if it was standing still after getting a great run off turn two. Using the draft of the second car, she closed in and dove to the bottom as they went into turn three. The driver tried to moved down to the bottom to block her but ended up getting loose and by the time he recovered Illya was well clear of him.
Two more opponents remained as they crossed the line with Illya closing in on them. The two cars seemed to have decided to work together, for as they went into turn one they block both high and the low lane. Illya remained in the middle and to everyone surprise she charged forward, making it three wide going into turn two.
Everyone's breath caught, Paul's especially. The last thing he wanted to see was he car getting wrecked because of a reckless maneuver.
"That's not a good idea!" he heard Jeremy yell.
"Just watch," said Stephan, "She's not done yet!"
The two drivers were taken by surprise for they suddenly moved their cars away from Illya. As they came out of turn two the high car fell behind and Illya took the high lane, her car now beside and behind the last car. Together they flew down the straightaway with Illya inching forward until they were even.
Into turn three they went, with Illya remaining on the high lane while her opponent went low. Everyone watched with held breath as they came out of turn four. Illya fell behind her opponent again, her nose right on the other car's bumper. As they came to the finish line, she dove to the bottom and they crossed the line with her leading by half a car length.
"That was awesome!"
"What a move!"
"I never seen anything like that!"
Paul himself was totally speechless. The moves the girl had made should have gotten her into a wreck, only it didn't. Once again he found himself looking at his old friend.
"I really want to hear the story between you two," he repeated for the second before switching on the radio, "Okay, Illya. Bring it in."
"Ahhhh," he heard she groaned in cute way, "But I'm having so much fun out here."
"I'm sure you are, but I'm afraid your test run is over. Bring it in."
The girl let an out exaggerated sigh, "Yes, sir."
Moments later, Illya brought the car into its pit stall and shut the engine off. She undid her helmet as Joshua reached inside and took off the wheel before helping her disconnect the HANS device from the seat.
"You were awesome out there!" he said with a big smile.
"Thank you," she smiled back sweetly, causing him to blush.
Handing him her head gear she reached up and pulled herself out, where she she was greeted with applause and cheers as though she had actually won a race. She found she was shaking a little as her feet settled on the pavement. Then she was enveloped in a big bear hug by Stephan.
"Way to go, kiddo!" he grinned proudly at her, "I knew you'd kick ass out there!"
Laughing, Illya hugged him back, "Thanks, Uncle Hercules."
He released her and she waved at the crowd that were still cheering before she heard Jeremy yell, "Alright everyone! Show's over! Go back to your jobs before you get in trouble with your team owners."
An entire orchestra of moans, groans, and protests were heard but knowing that he was right they reluctantly went back to doing their jobs. Once his pit crew were finished congratulating Illya and things had quieted down Paul stepped over to her.
"That was really impressive driving out there," he said.
"Thank you," Illya held out her hand, "And thank you for letting me drive. It was the most amazing thing I ever experienced."
She saw what looked like a smile of new admiration grow on his face as he shook her hand.
"Glad you enjoyed it. However, that was a very gutsy move of yours passing those two cars. You were damn lucky you didn't get involved in a wreck."
"It wasn't luck," Illya said slowly, "I knew I could pull it off. Stephan, in a sense, taught me how. But if you still think it was blind luck I'll be happy to go out back there and do it again."
Paul blinked, surprised by her response. But before he could answer his Cup driver suddenly stepped in.
"That won't be necessary," he said to her, "You drive pretty good for a German girl."
It sounded more like an insult than a compliment, but Illya didn't seem to be bothered.
"Thank you," she replied coolly, "I hope I get to do a race here."
A sly smile came to the driver's lips, "You know what? I hope so too. I hope you get your own ride. Then we can see if you can play with the big boys here."
He turned and walked away, with Illya watching him with a raised eyebrow.
"Quite a gentleman, that man is," she said.
"Don't know what's got him so riled up," said Paul, "That's my Cup driver for this year, James Lowry."
There was a pause as he took a moment to figure out what to say next before he looked directly at Illya.
"You were being serious when you said you wanted to join NASCAR, correct?"
"I was," Illya nodded.
"Well," Paul paused again, "after seeing a display like that I'd be lying if I weren't at least considering giving you a job."
Illya felt a spark of hope rising but she forced it down. She didn't want to get too ahead of herself.
"But there's one question I need to ask you," Paul went on, "Why does a gorgeous girl like you, the daughter of a famous Formula One team owner, want to join NASCAR?"
"So you know about my family. Well…" Illya started putting her gear back in the bag, "Racing's the only thing I ever been really good at."
"You seem to have landed a job as a super model, something girls would kill for. With your looks I would think that you would have been perfectly content with that."
Illya snorted, as though the very idea disgusted her.
"That's just a job I took so I wouldn't have to rely on my parent's allowance all the time during my stay here," she said, "I have never once considered turning it into a career."
Paul looked at her curiously, "That's interesting to hear."
"It's the truth," Illya zipped up her bag and sat down on the wall, "I came here because I discovered there was nothing really there for me in Germany."
"Really?" Paul was surprised, "Even with a family such as yours?"
Illya gave a small smile, "The Einzberns are a old and proud family. Our history goes all the way back to Medieval times when our ancestors were Teutonic knights aiding the Crusades. My brother and I are very proud of our heritage," she paused and took a breath, "But things haven't been easy for our current generation."
"Family problems?" guessed Paul.
"Yes," Illya sighed, "Mainly with my Grandfather. He was verbally against me coming to America."
Paul was surprised again, "Why? Was he trying to get you into an arrange marriage or something?"
"No," Illya laughed, "Well, I suspected that was part of it since he's very old fashioned. But that wasn't the main reason why. You see, my Grandfather resents America because he feels that they didn't do enough to drive the Communists out of Eastern Germany during the Cold War. He had a lot of close friends there who perished under the Russians. So when I announce that I wanted to go to America and perhaps study abroad, you can imagine the heated arguments we got into."
"How did your parents feel?"
"They were all for it. My father loved coming to the States when Formula One came to visit. But my Grandfather just wouldn't accept it. He even threatened to disown the entire family if they let me go. That threat didn't mean anything of course because my father had more than enough to build another Einzbern Castle. Eventually Grandfather had to swallow his pride and relent. So, here I am."
"I'm sorry things turned out that way."
"Don't be," Illya waved off the apology, "In truth my Grandfather is a good man and I do love him, but he's been living in the past for too long. Anyway, putting that aside, the real reason why I to join NASCAR is because I want to race for Dodge."
Paul blinked, obviously he hadn't expected this, "For Dodge?"
Illya smiled fondly, "You remember when I said that before I came here I knew nothing about American cars or American motorsports?"
"Yes," Paul nodded, "That is until you met Stephan."
"That's right," Illya beamed, "Through him I came to really appreciate American… muscle. Especially those made by Dodge."
"Ha ha," Paul shook his head in amazement, "I never thought I would hear that from a German, especially from a German woman."
Illya smiled, "You'd be surprised. There's quite a number of Europeans, including Germans, who own American cars. From brand new to the classics."
"So I take it you're a Mopar fan now?"
"I certainly am, although I would call myself a Mopar fan girl."
Both of them laughed before they stood and shook hands again.
"Well, Miss Einzbern, I shall seriously consider hiring you to drive for me. Is…" he looked to where Stephan was chatting with Jeremy and Joshua, "Is Stephan acting as your agent?"
"For time being, yes."
"And how long are you staying here?"
"Until the end of the weekend. I was planning on visiting the local racetracks before returning to Baltimore to get ready for the February shoot."
Ah, yes. Her fashion magazine.
"Are you under contract?"
"No," Illya shook her head firmly, "When I agreed to model for them I sincerely requested that I would be not be under contract and that it would be nothing more than a job to help pay for my expenses."
"I see," Paul nodded, "Tell you what, I'll give you a call you tomorrow after I talk with Stephan. I really want to know how you two met."
Illya grinned, "It'll be a very entertaining story to listen to."
"Then I'll be looking forward to hearing it."
With that, Paul went on his way. Feeling very satisfied with today's events, Illya put her coat and hat back on before wrapping the silk scarf back around her throat. Picking up her bag, she made her way back to her Dodge Viper.
She placed the bag in the passenger seat and turned-and found herself looking at a large group of pit crew members holding out notebooks, pieces of paper, and a variety of other things toward her. Each one of them held a face of complete ecstasy.
"Can I have you autograph?!" they all yelled in unison.
Illya blinked, then sighed in a amused way.
"Well, so much for me getting out of this without attracting too much attention," she muttered under her breath. Heaving another sigh, she pulled out a pen from her coat, "Alright, but autographs only. I don't have a lot of time on my hands."
Despite her insistence, it didn't stop the boys for keeping her there long after she had finished signing autographs. Being a super model was becoming a real nuisance.