Chapter One
Allie's POV
I woke at 6:10 this morning, just like every morning so I can get a shower and get dressed for school before the rest of the team is up.
I'm Allie, by the way. Allessandra Carina Teretto, to be exact. I live with my brother and sister and some friends who are really the only family I've ever had.
I rolled out of my nice warm bed precisely at 6:15, grabbed my underwear, my robe, and stumbled, half asleep and bleary-eyed down the hall to the bathroom.
I dropped my Joe Boxer shorts and pulled my tank top over my head. Then I took a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I have a flat stomach, and toned arms and legs from helping Dom out in the garage, but I also have straight narrow hips and small breast.
I'm 15 yet I look like an anorexic 12 year old.
I wished for the umpteenth time that I had a figure like Mia's or Letty's. Finally I shucked my underclothes and climbed in the shower and let the hottest water I could stand wash over me.
When I returned to my room 20 minutes later, Leticia Garcia, or Letty, was laying on my bed, sunglasses over her eyes, arms flung over her head, feet dangling off the edge as if she had made that far and collapsed. A black leather mini skirt and a black ribbed short sleeved turtle neck hung on the bed post. Letty was going to dress me again. Sometimes I feel like her little Barbie doll but it's cool. Letty's been a part of our family for eight years. She's Dom's girlfriend. Dom, or Dominic Teretto is my big brother. He's 27 and the head of our rag-tag family since Momma and Daddy are dead. Mia, my 23 year old sister, and I, keep thinking Dom and Letty will get married, but they never even talk about it. Or if they do, they never tell anyone else.
Letty's great. She's like another big sister, only more fun because she isn't as strict on me as Mia is. Don't get me wrong, Mia's is great, too, just a different kind of great.
Letty didn't move when I slammed the door, so I went over and crawled up in the bed beside her and pulled her shades off. Eyes, even darker brown than my own, stared up at me. I studied her eyes closely.
"Relax, hermanita," she said, knowing what I was looking for. "I'm not hung over, I just have a headache."
"Yeah," I giggled, scooting off the bed. "And it's named Dominic."
"Don't I know it," she muttered, then turned over on her stomach to look at me. "He's gonna be your headache this morning, she warned me. "He ain't too happy about having to meet with your principal this morning. Are you sure you haven't done anything to be in trouble for?"
"Nope, not that I can think of," I replied, pulling on the skirt and shirt. They're a little loose and it's not quite a mini skirt on my short legs, but other than that, they look good. I found my black boots and a pair of scrunchie socks and put them on. Letty approves. "I don't know why he don't just let Mia go. She's just as capable of meeting Ms. Weaver as he is, and she don't get nearly as p.o.'ed."
"Because, you know, he thinks he's responsible for everything you do," she answered. "So, if you've done anything, best confess it to him or Mia now, instead of letting this Ms. Weaver person do it." She sat up. "Come here. I'll braid your hair. You'll be cute."
That would surprise everyone else to hear. Letty is a bitch to nearly everybody, but never to me. She's always nice to me. Even so, the thought of her being up at 7:30 just to fix my hair is unimaginable to everybody but me and Dom. He knows how much Letty and me love each other.
After she had put a french braid in my still wet, long, black hair, I put on some dark lipstick. Not too much, though, or Dom would make me go back and wash my face. That is, if I he don't send me back to change clothes, first.
"So?" I twirled around in front of her.
"You're hot, babe," she smiled. I had to admit I looked more like 15 than I did before. I went downstairs to face the firing squad. I had thought of something.
"Dom?" I said in a timid voice. "I thought of something I did at school."
"What?" he practically growled. Damn, he was in a bad mood.
"Last week, Lee-Lee Tran said I was a trashy Italian whore, so I pushed her stupid ass in the mud, and she had to go home a change clothes. But we didn't even get trouble from the teachers who saw it."
"Lance's sister?"
I nodded.
"Well, if that's all it is then you aren't in trouble." He replied.
Thank God.
"See ya, later," I announced, grabbing my books and the keys to my car off the counter, and tried to escape before anything else was said. I just knew he was going to comment on my outfit.
I didn't make it.
"Allessandra!"
"Yeah?"
"Come back here."
I walked back into the kitchen.
Dom held out one arm. I smiled and rushed into his embrace.
Mia and I never leave the house without hugging Dom. He says he learned the day our Daddy died that you never know when it's the last time you'll see someone, so he tries to make sure we know he loves us everyday.
"Love you, Allie-cat," he mummured.
I'm not sure when I got the name Allie-cat. Dom and Mia say our Daddy gave it to me when I was really little, because I was always creeping around the garage, real quiet, like a cat.
"Love you, too, Dom. Mia." I gave her a small hug too.
She patted my arm and absentmindly returned my I love you. Her nose was buried in one of her text books.
"Do you love me?" Leon Morales, another member of our team, our family, asked, walking into the kitchen.
"No," I grinned. Leon has been around since I was nine. He's like family, of course I love him. But I don't have to tell him that. It's more fun to say no. He always has a comeback of his own.
"Just checkin, little babe," he laughed. "Got to see if my status changes."
"Bye, ya'll," I rolled my eyes and jetted before anyone else got up.
Our house is pretty busy with the three of us, Letty, Leon, Vince Jackson and Jesse Herndon (you'll meet them later,) staying there.
I have a 2000 Dodge Viper, midnight blue, with gray interior and the teams racing emblems down the sides.
Dominic won it in a race. Some people think that its wrong to race for cars, but if you don't want to lose your car, don't race my brother for pinks. No one ever makes anyone race or throw down a pink slip.
Back to my car, it's a maxed out racer with 3,000 dollar Pioneer sound system and it tops out at 170 even without NOS. It did have a 10,000 dollar NOS system, but Dom and Vince pulled that out before they let me drive it. That sucked. I could race. I can drive as good as Mia or Letty, and better than Jesse, and they've all raced. But, Dom says no 15 year-old, driving on a hardship licenses, has any business with NOS.
He also says I am going to learn to make a living using my brain and not my hands and a race car. But I love cars. I like working on them, restoring them.
I want to make my living in a race car. It's in my blood.
Author's note: I don't remember if Dom has any tattoos in the movie, but for the sake of this story he has at least one on his arm. Please forgive me if this goes against anything about him.
Chapter Two
Dominic's POV
I hate that school. I hated it when I went there. I hated it when Mia went there, and guess what? I still hate it.
We were poor middle class Italians, who owned a garage and raced cars when I went here. In other words, I was too low class for the faculty to bother with.
Things didn't change for Mia either, but she worked her ass off and graduated with honors.
Somehow I doubt if Allie is getting any better of a chance than Mia or I did.
I had to walk through a metal detector to get into the building. When did they start that shit? Does Allie have to go through that thing everyday?
Then I waited for half an hour before the principal found time to come to the meeting they set up. But when the pricipal did arrive, I was surprised to see that it wasn't old man Brewster.
"Mr. Teretto?"
I turned to face a woman. "I'm Dominic Teretto."
She smiled. "Hi, I'm Victoria Weaver, the new principal." She held out her hand. "And I believe Allessandra said you were her brother?"
"Yes." I shook her hand.
"Great. Let's step in to my office."
I followed her into a small room.
"Have a seat."
"Is my sister in trouble?" I finally asked. Allie is a good kid. I couldn't imagine what she had done wrong.
"Trouble? No, Allessandra isn't in any trouble, but we are having a problem with her. First, though, I would like to clear up somethings in her file." She looked me over critically. Her eyes paused on the tattoo on my arm. I found myself wishing I had worn a jacket like Mia and Let suggested. But, why should I fucking care? Tattoos aren't illegal. I cared because I had been to these meetings before, both for Mia and Allie. A new do-gooder teacher, trying to find out why those sweet Teretto girls live with thier wild brother. Trust me. I already knew what the woman was going to ask.
"Okay."
"Just how did you become her legal guardian?" She asked.
Told you. These questions.
"Our father died when she was four, our mother when Allie was seven. I made a decent living in our family's store and garage, and was of age so I was given custody of her and our sister, Mia." Like it's any of her business.
"I see. So, she lives with you and your sister?"
"Yes."
"And who is Leticia Garcia? She's listed as a contact person."
"None of your business," is what I wanted to say, but for Allie's sake I said, "She's my girlfriend. She's been a part of Allie's life for eight years. She always knows how to find Mia or myself and if, by chance, she can't, she's able to serve as Allie's responsible party for.. whatever you need a responsible party for."
"And she lives with you?"
"Yes. She does."
"I see." Her voice became cold and distant.
No, I saw. I saw right where this converstaion and her opinions were going. They were going striaght to 'you can't possibly be able to raise your sister properly because you have tattoos and live with your girlfriend.' I wondered what that uptight bitch would think if she knew Letty wasn't our only houseguest?
Well, I'd be damned if she got around to saying I wasn't fit to care for Allie.
I've taken care of both my sisters for eight years. More than that really,since our mother wasn't worth a damn after Dad died, and I must be doing something right. They're both good people. Mia is hard working and smart and Allie is following right behind her. I may be a stupid low-class nobody but they they are smart, good, decent somebodies.
"Mrs. Weaver, are you really having problems with my sister? Or did you just call me down here to ask me a bunch of questions you already know the answers to?" I asked, trying not to lose my cool. "Because if that is so, then I have a business to run."
"Yes, Mr. Teretto, we are having a problem with her, " Weaver said. "It is with the way she has taken to dressing lately. Does anyone see the way she is dressed when she leaves the house in the mornings?"
"Yes, I do," I replied, seething. "My sister and I both, see Allie every morning before she leaves home, and we don't see anything wrong with the way she is dressed when she leaves."
"I don't imagine you would. Prehaps it would be alright ot dress that way if she were taking art classes, or music classes, but if Allessandra is going to insist on crawling around on and under cars in Autoshop, then we are going to have to insist that she wear more conservative clothing. Quite frankly, Mr. Teretto, her short skirts and tight jeans are becoming a distraction to the young men in the class."
That was it. She pissed me off.
"I'll talk to Allie about the clothes she wears in THAT class, but you need to have one of these little meetings with the YOUNG MEN who can't keep their eyes off her ass and thier dicks to themselves for one hour." I stood to go.
"Mr. Teretto, there is no reason to be so crude," she replied.
"Mrs. Weaver, if you have nothing else to say, I need to get back to my garage." I left before she said anything else. I couldn't afford to lose my cool any more than I already had, and I was on the verge of telling that prissy ass bitch where she put her concerns over Allie's clothes.
I stopped at the secretary's desk. "I'm checkin' my sister out."
Maggie McMurphy, who's been the secretary there since God was a baby, handed me a clip board. "Just sign her name, then your own, and I need to see some ID, Dominic."
She called me by name and still needed to see my ID?
"It's for Allie's protection," she smiled, politely. "If I let every guy who came in here claiming to be a brother check students out, there would be trouble, and I can't check some ID's and not others." Then she grinned. "By the way as much time as you and Vincent Jackson spent in this room, I won't be forgetting either of you anytime soon."
I laughed, and showed her my driver's license.
She glanced at it before saying, "Have a seat. I'll send someone out to get her."
"Don't worry about it. I'll get her." I wasn't eager to spend any more time in that office. I walked out and dialed Allie's number on my cell phone.
Chapter Three
Allie's POV
I was under Miguel's car when my cell phone rang.
We aren't really supposed to have cell phones and pagers and shit like that at school, but Dom insists I keep my phone with me all the time. If anyone gives me trouble about it, they can take it up with him. You'd be surprised how many people don't want to take it up with him.
I pulled the phone out of my hip pocket and hit the talk button.
"Hey, Jess."
"Jess? Jesse? Why would Jesse be calling you when you are supposed to be in class?" Dom's voice demanded.
Oh, shit.
"He, um..., just calls to check on me sometimes." Everyday. "See if I need anything or want some food or something."
"Why?"
"You'll have to ask him that one, Big Brother," I replied.
"Where are you?"
"Under Miguel's car."
"Why are you under Miguel's car?" He asked. I could tell he was getting irritated. But, that's okay. I can drive Dominic crazy and get away with. I'm his baby.
"I'm checking out the NOS system Hector had put in it so Miguel could race," I answered. "That sucks too, cause I could kick his Latino ass before, but now...."
"If Hector wants Miguel to blow his ass to Kingdom Come, that's their business. You're still not getting NOS in your car. Be thankful you have a car," he replied. "Are you showing your ass up under that car?"
"I don't think so," I said, looking down, as much as I could, at my skirt laying flat against my legs. "But, hold on, I'll check. HEY, MIGUEL!"
"Yeah?" Miguel called back.
"Am I showing my ass?"
"No, but, if you're about to let me know," he answered. "I'd hate to miss that."
"Miguel says no," I told Dom.
"Cute," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I signed you out. Meet me at your car."
Cool. I hope. "Okay. See ya." I hung up and pushed the creeper I was laying on out from under the car.
"Help me up." I held out my hands to Miguel who pulled me to my feet without showing my butt. "Thanks buddy. I'm out of here."
I grabbed my books and stopped by the teacher's office long enough to tell him my brother had checked me out. Mr. Anderson creeps me out. I don't like having to say too much to him.
"You were under a car in that?" Dom asked when I got to my car.
"Yeah, I wasn't doing anything but looking at something, I wouldn't do any work in this" I answered. "Besides, what else was I going to wear?"
"Pants, preferably. I got called out here because you've been showing your ass in Autoshop," Dom replied.
"That's a load of crap," I snapped. "I don't show my ass, and look around," I swung my arm around to motion to the array of short skirts, tight jeans, and booty shorts on display, now that the classes were changing. "I'm not dressed any differently than any girl here."
"They're not my sisters, you are." He opened my car door. "Get in. I don't care if they look like sluts. I do care if you look like one. You are too smart to get screwed over your clothes."
Great. The 'your-too-smart' speech. Dom and Mia always use that for everything.
"You are too smart not to study."
"You are too smart to fail that test."
"You are too smart to do this."
"You are too smart for that."
You get the picture.
"Where am I going?" I ask, getting in the car.
"The store. I'll leave my car there. We are going to buy you some clothes to wear in shop that don't show your shit to the world." He shut the car door.
"But, Dom...,"
"See you in a few minutes." He interrupted.
Okay. Fine. Whatever. He wasn't going to hear a word I said right then. I made a mental note to tell Letty or Mia, later, that the only 'boys' that couldn't look the other way in shop, was Mr. Anderson, the teacher, and Mr. Lender, the janitor.
Sometimes, it scares me too look at Lender and know Dom did that to him. Then I remember Dom's screams and watching my Daddy burn to death.
I was only four years old at the time, and if you had asked my mother, I had no business at the race tracks in the first place, but Daddy and Dom's little tomboy went wherever they did. That was almost twelve years ago, but those two things are imprinted in my memory. I'll never forget them. I hear Dominic screaming in my sleep.
When I remember those things, looking at Lender just makes me want to puke. He wasn't, isn't, worth two years of Dom's life and he damn sure shouldn't be able to watch me work on cars when my Daddy can't, because of him. Personally I don't know how he can look me in the face, knowing what he did, much less stare at my ass for an hour everyday.
He's just gross. He's such a perv. So is Mr. Anderson. They don't want me in that class. I think they are trying to intimidate me out of it. But it's not going to work. I have just as much right to be there as anyone else, and by damn, they won't win.
By the way, did Dom just call me a slut?
TBC Soon
Allie's POV
I woke at 6:10 this morning, just like every morning so I can get a shower and get dressed for school before the rest of the team is up.
I'm Allie, by the way. Allessandra Carina Teretto, to be exact. I live with my brother and sister and some friends who are really the only family I've ever had.
I rolled out of my nice warm bed precisely at 6:15, grabbed my underwear, my robe, and stumbled, half asleep and bleary-eyed down the hall to the bathroom.
I dropped my Joe Boxer shorts and pulled my tank top over my head. Then I took a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I have a flat stomach, and toned arms and legs from helping Dom out in the garage, but I also have straight narrow hips and small breast.
I'm 15 yet I look like an anorexic 12 year old.
I wished for the umpteenth time that I had a figure like Mia's or Letty's. Finally I shucked my underclothes and climbed in the shower and let the hottest water I could stand wash over me.
When I returned to my room 20 minutes later, Leticia Garcia, or Letty, was laying on my bed, sunglasses over her eyes, arms flung over her head, feet dangling off the edge as if she had made that far and collapsed. A black leather mini skirt and a black ribbed short sleeved turtle neck hung on the bed post. Letty was going to dress me again. Sometimes I feel like her little Barbie doll but it's cool. Letty's been a part of our family for eight years. She's Dom's girlfriend. Dom, or Dominic Teretto is my big brother. He's 27 and the head of our rag-tag family since Momma and Daddy are dead. Mia, my 23 year old sister, and I, keep thinking Dom and Letty will get married, but they never even talk about it. Or if they do, they never tell anyone else.
Letty's great. She's like another big sister, only more fun because she isn't as strict on me as Mia is. Don't get me wrong, Mia's is great, too, just a different kind of great.
Letty didn't move when I slammed the door, so I went over and crawled up in the bed beside her and pulled her shades off. Eyes, even darker brown than my own, stared up at me. I studied her eyes closely.
"Relax, hermanita," she said, knowing what I was looking for. "I'm not hung over, I just have a headache."
"Yeah," I giggled, scooting off the bed. "And it's named Dominic."
"Don't I know it," she muttered, then turned over on her stomach to look at me. "He's gonna be your headache this morning, she warned me. "He ain't too happy about having to meet with your principal this morning. Are you sure you haven't done anything to be in trouble for?"
"Nope, not that I can think of," I replied, pulling on the skirt and shirt. They're a little loose and it's not quite a mini skirt on my short legs, but other than that, they look good. I found my black boots and a pair of scrunchie socks and put them on. Letty approves. "I don't know why he don't just let Mia go. She's just as capable of meeting Ms. Weaver as he is, and she don't get nearly as p.o.'ed."
"Because, you know, he thinks he's responsible for everything you do," she answered. "So, if you've done anything, best confess it to him or Mia now, instead of letting this Ms. Weaver person do it." She sat up. "Come here. I'll braid your hair. You'll be cute."
That would surprise everyone else to hear. Letty is a bitch to nearly everybody, but never to me. She's always nice to me. Even so, the thought of her being up at 7:30 just to fix my hair is unimaginable to everybody but me and Dom. He knows how much Letty and me love each other.
After she had put a french braid in my still wet, long, black hair, I put on some dark lipstick. Not too much, though, or Dom would make me go back and wash my face. That is, if I he don't send me back to change clothes, first.
"So?" I twirled around in front of her.
"You're hot, babe," she smiled. I had to admit I looked more like 15 than I did before. I went downstairs to face the firing squad. I had thought of something.
"Dom?" I said in a timid voice. "I thought of something I did at school."
"What?" he practically growled. Damn, he was in a bad mood.
"Last week, Lee-Lee Tran said I was a trashy Italian whore, so I pushed her stupid ass in the mud, and she had to go home a change clothes. But we didn't even get trouble from the teachers who saw it."
"Lance's sister?"
I nodded.
"Well, if that's all it is then you aren't in trouble." He replied.
Thank God.
"See ya, later," I announced, grabbing my books and the keys to my car off the counter, and tried to escape before anything else was said. I just knew he was going to comment on my outfit.
I didn't make it.
"Allessandra!"
"Yeah?"
"Come back here."
I walked back into the kitchen.
Dom held out one arm. I smiled and rushed into his embrace.
Mia and I never leave the house without hugging Dom. He says he learned the day our Daddy died that you never know when it's the last time you'll see someone, so he tries to make sure we know he loves us everyday.
"Love you, Allie-cat," he mummured.
I'm not sure when I got the name Allie-cat. Dom and Mia say our Daddy gave it to me when I was really little, because I was always creeping around the garage, real quiet, like a cat.
"Love you, too, Dom. Mia." I gave her a small hug too.
She patted my arm and absentmindly returned my I love you. Her nose was buried in one of her text books.
"Do you love me?" Leon Morales, another member of our team, our family, asked, walking into the kitchen.
"No," I grinned. Leon has been around since I was nine. He's like family, of course I love him. But I don't have to tell him that. It's more fun to say no. He always has a comeback of his own.
"Just checkin, little babe," he laughed. "Got to see if my status changes."
"Bye, ya'll," I rolled my eyes and jetted before anyone else got up.
Our house is pretty busy with the three of us, Letty, Leon, Vince Jackson and Jesse Herndon (you'll meet them later,) staying there.
I have a 2000 Dodge Viper, midnight blue, with gray interior and the teams racing emblems down the sides.
Dominic won it in a race. Some people think that its wrong to race for cars, but if you don't want to lose your car, don't race my brother for pinks. No one ever makes anyone race or throw down a pink slip.
Back to my car, it's a maxed out racer with 3,000 dollar Pioneer sound system and it tops out at 170 even without NOS. It did have a 10,000 dollar NOS system, but Dom and Vince pulled that out before they let me drive it. That sucked. I could race. I can drive as good as Mia or Letty, and better than Jesse, and they've all raced. But, Dom says no 15 year-old, driving on a hardship licenses, has any business with NOS.
He also says I am going to learn to make a living using my brain and not my hands and a race car. But I love cars. I like working on them, restoring them.
I want to make my living in a race car. It's in my blood.
Author's note: I don't remember if Dom has any tattoos in the movie, but for the sake of this story he has at least one on his arm. Please forgive me if this goes against anything about him.
Chapter Two
Dominic's POV
I hate that school. I hated it when I went there. I hated it when Mia went there, and guess what? I still hate it.
We were poor middle class Italians, who owned a garage and raced cars when I went here. In other words, I was too low class for the faculty to bother with.
Things didn't change for Mia either, but she worked her ass off and graduated with honors.
Somehow I doubt if Allie is getting any better of a chance than Mia or I did.
I had to walk through a metal detector to get into the building. When did they start that shit? Does Allie have to go through that thing everyday?
Then I waited for half an hour before the principal found time to come to the meeting they set up. But when the pricipal did arrive, I was surprised to see that it wasn't old man Brewster.
"Mr. Teretto?"
I turned to face a woman. "I'm Dominic Teretto."
She smiled. "Hi, I'm Victoria Weaver, the new principal." She held out her hand. "And I believe Allessandra said you were her brother?"
"Yes." I shook her hand.
"Great. Let's step in to my office."
I followed her into a small room.
"Have a seat."
"Is my sister in trouble?" I finally asked. Allie is a good kid. I couldn't imagine what she had done wrong.
"Trouble? No, Allessandra isn't in any trouble, but we are having a problem with her. First, though, I would like to clear up somethings in her file." She looked me over critically. Her eyes paused on the tattoo on my arm. I found myself wishing I had worn a jacket like Mia and Let suggested. But, why should I fucking care? Tattoos aren't illegal. I cared because I had been to these meetings before, both for Mia and Allie. A new do-gooder teacher, trying to find out why those sweet Teretto girls live with thier wild brother. Trust me. I already knew what the woman was going to ask.
"Okay."
"Just how did you become her legal guardian?" She asked.
Told you. These questions.
"Our father died when she was four, our mother when Allie was seven. I made a decent living in our family's store and garage, and was of age so I was given custody of her and our sister, Mia." Like it's any of her business.
"I see. So, she lives with you and your sister?"
"Yes."
"And who is Leticia Garcia? She's listed as a contact person."
"None of your business," is what I wanted to say, but for Allie's sake I said, "She's my girlfriend. She's been a part of Allie's life for eight years. She always knows how to find Mia or myself and if, by chance, she can't, she's able to serve as Allie's responsible party for.. whatever you need a responsible party for."
"And she lives with you?"
"Yes. She does."
"I see." Her voice became cold and distant.
No, I saw. I saw right where this converstaion and her opinions were going. They were going striaght to 'you can't possibly be able to raise your sister properly because you have tattoos and live with your girlfriend.' I wondered what that uptight bitch would think if she knew Letty wasn't our only houseguest?
Well, I'd be damned if she got around to saying I wasn't fit to care for Allie.
I've taken care of both my sisters for eight years. More than that really,since our mother wasn't worth a damn after Dad died, and I must be doing something right. They're both good people. Mia is hard working and smart and Allie is following right behind her. I may be a stupid low-class nobody but they they are smart, good, decent somebodies.
"Mrs. Weaver, are you really having problems with my sister? Or did you just call me down here to ask me a bunch of questions you already know the answers to?" I asked, trying not to lose my cool. "Because if that is so, then I have a business to run."
"Yes, Mr. Teretto, we are having a problem with her, " Weaver said. "It is with the way she has taken to dressing lately. Does anyone see the way she is dressed when she leaves the house in the mornings?"
"Yes, I do," I replied, seething. "My sister and I both, see Allie every morning before she leaves home, and we don't see anything wrong with the way she is dressed when she leaves."
"I don't imagine you would. Prehaps it would be alright ot dress that way if she were taking art classes, or music classes, but if Allessandra is going to insist on crawling around on and under cars in Autoshop, then we are going to have to insist that she wear more conservative clothing. Quite frankly, Mr. Teretto, her short skirts and tight jeans are becoming a distraction to the young men in the class."
That was it. She pissed me off.
"I'll talk to Allie about the clothes she wears in THAT class, but you need to have one of these little meetings with the YOUNG MEN who can't keep their eyes off her ass and thier dicks to themselves for one hour." I stood to go.
"Mr. Teretto, there is no reason to be so crude," she replied.
"Mrs. Weaver, if you have nothing else to say, I need to get back to my garage." I left before she said anything else. I couldn't afford to lose my cool any more than I already had, and I was on the verge of telling that prissy ass bitch where she put her concerns over Allie's clothes.
I stopped at the secretary's desk. "I'm checkin' my sister out."
Maggie McMurphy, who's been the secretary there since God was a baby, handed me a clip board. "Just sign her name, then your own, and I need to see some ID, Dominic."
She called me by name and still needed to see my ID?
"It's for Allie's protection," she smiled, politely. "If I let every guy who came in here claiming to be a brother check students out, there would be trouble, and I can't check some ID's and not others." Then she grinned. "By the way as much time as you and Vincent Jackson spent in this room, I won't be forgetting either of you anytime soon."
I laughed, and showed her my driver's license.
She glanced at it before saying, "Have a seat. I'll send someone out to get her."
"Don't worry about it. I'll get her." I wasn't eager to spend any more time in that office. I walked out and dialed Allie's number on my cell phone.
Chapter Three
Allie's POV
I was under Miguel's car when my cell phone rang.
We aren't really supposed to have cell phones and pagers and shit like that at school, but Dom insists I keep my phone with me all the time. If anyone gives me trouble about it, they can take it up with him. You'd be surprised how many people don't want to take it up with him.
I pulled the phone out of my hip pocket and hit the talk button.
"Hey, Jess."
"Jess? Jesse? Why would Jesse be calling you when you are supposed to be in class?" Dom's voice demanded.
Oh, shit.
"He, um..., just calls to check on me sometimes." Everyday. "See if I need anything or want some food or something."
"Why?"
"You'll have to ask him that one, Big Brother," I replied.
"Where are you?"
"Under Miguel's car."
"Why are you under Miguel's car?" He asked. I could tell he was getting irritated. But, that's okay. I can drive Dominic crazy and get away with. I'm his baby.
"I'm checking out the NOS system Hector had put in it so Miguel could race," I answered. "That sucks too, cause I could kick his Latino ass before, but now...."
"If Hector wants Miguel to blow his ass to Kingdom Come, that's their business. You're still not getting NOS in your car. Be thankful you have a car," he replied. "Are you showing your ass up under that car?"
"I don't think so," I said, looking down, as much as I could, at my skirt laying flat against my legs. "But, hold on, I'll check. HEY, MIGUEL!"
"Yeah?" Miguel called back.
"Am I showing my ass?"
"No, but, if you're about to let me know," he answered. "I'd hate to miss that."
"Miguel says no," I told Dom.
"Cute," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I signed you out. Meet me at your car."
Cool. I hope. "Okay. See ya." I hung up and pushed the creeper I was laying on out from under the car.
"Help me up." I held out my hands to Miguel who pulled me to my feet without showing my butt. "Thanks buddy. I'm out of here."
I grabbed my books and stopped by the teacher's office long enough to tell him my brother had checked me out. Mr. Anderson creeps me out. I don't like having to say too much to him.
"You were under a car in that?" Dom asked when I got to my car.
"Yeah, I wasn't doing anything but looking at something, I wouldn't do any work in this" I answered. "Besides, what else was I going to wear?"
"Pants, preferably. I got called out here because you've been showing your ass in Autoshop," Dom replied.
"That's a load of crap," I snapped. "I don't show my ass, and look around," I swung my arm around to motion to the array of short skirts, tight jeans, and booty shorts on display, now that the classes were changing. "I'm not dressed any differently than any girl here."
"They're not my sisters, you are." He opened my car door. "Get in. I don't care if they look like sluts. I do care if you look like one. You are too smart to get screwed over your clothes."
Great. The 'your-too-smart' speech. Dom and Mia always use that for everything.
"You are too smart not to study."
"You are too smart to fail that test."
"You are too smart to do this."
"You are too smart for that."
You get the picture.
"Where am I going?" I ask, getting in the car.
"The store. I'll leave my car there. We are going to buy you some clothes to wear in shop that don't show your shit to the world." He shut the car door.
"But, Dom...,"
"See you in a few minutes." He interrupted.
Okay. Fine. Whatever. He wasn't going to hear a word I said right then. I made a mental note to tell Letty or Mia, later, that the only 'boys' that couldn't look the other way in shop, was Mr. Anderson, the teacher, and Mr. Lender, the janitor.
Sometimes, it scares me too look at Lender and know Dom did that to him. Then I remember Dom's screams and watching my Daddy burn to death.
I was only four years old at the time, and if you had asked my mother, I had no business at the race tracks in the first place, but Daddy and Dom's little tomboy went wherever they did. That was almost twelve years ago, but those two things are imprinted in my memory. I'll never forget them. I hear Dominic screaming in my sleep.
When I remember those things, looking at Lender just makes me want to puke. He wasn't, isn't, worth two years of Dom's life and he damn sure shouldn't be able to watch me work on cars when my Daddy can't, because of him. Personally I don't know how he can look me in the face, knowing what he did, much less stare at my ass for an hour everyday.
He's just gross. He's such a perv. So is Mr. Anderson. They don't want me in that class. I think they are trying to intimidate me out of it. But it's not going to work. I have just as much right to be there as anyone else, and by damn, they won't win.
By the way, did Dom just call me a slut?
TBC Soon