The Present's Past Chapter One

"Come on man." Mark responded flatly. "We've been searching this warehouse for hours. I doubt you've found anything worth having."

Alex glared at his friend harshly. Normally this would have had some weight considering they were the same height and the same age at 18, but not today. "I'm telling you Speedy. This is something big in this folder. Just read it."

Reluctantly, Mark took the folder and carefully opened its fragile bindings. His eyes widened as he read the letter slowly. English was still Mark Gonzalez's second language and he still had trouble. Alex waited patiently and smiled slightly as his best friends mouth slowly began to hang loose as he read over the plans and schematics.

When Mark finally did reach the end, Alex nudged him in the ribs and said, "What did I tell you Speedy? Cool right?"

"Completely." Mark replied. He handed the envelope back to Alex and stood. "Sabes que? We should show the others this. I bet they would love this."

"I was thinking the same thing." Alex shot back. "I'll race you back to my place. Call up the crew."

"Roger that good buddy."

Alex soon realized that this race would not be in his favor. It was not that his '66 GTO couldn't beat Mark's 300, but there was a slight problem. At the first turn, Alex discovered that his steering wheel was sticking.

Damn! He thought. The Gearbox must be acting up again. He knew he'd regret it later, but it was entirely possible if he did push the old girl, she might just kill her. So he took it slow.

The inner city slowly dwindled away and was replaced by smooth roads and open fields. This was perfect cruising terrain for Alex. He had brought many a girlfriend out on this very road to play his best dating game and sometimes it paid off. Other times it didn't. Alex Fontaine didn't sweat it much though. He was always looking for that next great adventure in life.

Alex's neighborhood slowly came into view after a time. It was a relatively new development of houses that stood up as freshly painted Suburbia in the middle of corn fields. Alex had heard that the city wanted to link up with this neighborhood but financial problems downtown had prevented it. That kind of isolation suited Alex and his family.

As he pulled into the driveway, Alex quickly noted that Mark had been true to his nickname. Not only was he already in the driveway and chatting with Alex's mother-that irked Alex slightly-he had also assembled the "crew".

Leaning up against her MKZ was Francesca "Fast Talking Fran" Polocek. Slightly pale, on the taller side, and slightly light hair and blue eyes, she was the typical Polish girl. Fran's family had emigrated from Poland when she was really young and had made a decent living. Mark and Fran had been apartment neighbors as they grew up and as they got older. Alex slowly came to be her friend too and the three made a formidable team on the baseball field.

Already under the hood of his Impala was the only other guy of the quintet of friends: Oliver "Olivander" Gelding. Also the son of immigrants, but from the United Kingdom, Oliver had embraced America for all it's good and ills very early on. Alex and him had roomed together during summer camp as middle schoolers and had become fast friends. Oliver was also by far the best mechanic of the lot. Alex chuckled as the memory of how he got his nickname returned again.

Shyly sitting on the edge of her Vantage was the newest member of the "crew". Aneesa "Big Money" Salib was the daughter of a third generation immigrated family from Arabia. Apparently her family had been old money back in the middle east and her father and grandfather had continued the family fortune in America. Only last year had she moved with her family to Alex's cul-de-sac and the two had started up a friendship. Aneesa continued to wear the traditional garb of her family, but most days she revealed her entire face, which was quite a lovely one if Alex was honest with himself.

All of them were chatting amongst themselves as Alex clicked his door shut behind him. They were talking car trash. That was the one thing that united them all; cars and what to do with them.

"I'm telling you Fran," Oliver blurted out. "If it's not the transmission this time, it's the driveshaft."

"You picked a Chevy. That's why." Fran said quickly. Her nickname really was deserved. The words came out in a spume that if you didn't pay attention, you would certainly miss them. Oliver and Fran continued to go back and forth until Alex had come into both of their line of sight. Smiles slowly faded to straight lines as they waited for him to speak.

Unsure of what to do next, Alex simply said, "To the basement everyone."