Chapter 5: Montague

radually, the lobby began to clear out. Before long, the racers were left to themselves, most of them ready to drop. With a few parting words to one another, they filed off to their separate rooms, jointly accepting that they all lacked the energy for any social activity. Ironically, Dick Dastardly seemed to be the only one with vigor left in his system, but he wasn't about to let the others know it.

Across town, Colette was flopped down on her bed, tracing the embroidered patterns on the comforter with a finger. Suddenly, a pillow came flying at her from the next bed over, barely missing her. "What?" She was half screaming and half laughing as she looked for Laurel, the source of the pillow.

"It's not like you to not say anything for almost two hours. Either you're really pissed off, or it's something else."

"Maybe both."

Running chubby fingers through her curls, Laurel sighed. "Let me guess. Interviews from hell?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, we already knew one was screwed over before it started. But was the interview with that Max guy bad too?"

Colette sat up with her legs crossed. "He called me Collie."

"Who, Max?"

"No! Dick." Colette threw the pillow back at Laurel.

"Better than some of the other things he's called you. Or when I called you Frenchy-Four-Eyes in second grade."

"Yeah, I remember that one," after a reminiscent giggle, Colette took off her glasses and rested them on the bedside table. "But how did your interviews go?"

"This was big, like prom big. I actually talked to Peter Perfect and Rufus Ruffcut!" Laurel clasped her hands over her heart, and fell backwards on her bed.

With Laurel's eyes focused on the ceiling, Colette jumped over to Laurel's side to regain her attention. "You sound like you've got a crush"

"Hey. I know what comes next. You're going to tell me you think they are miles out of my league. Well, I seriously think Rufus was checking me out." Colette tried to turn her head from Laurel, as if to shield the face she impulsively made. "I know that look. Well, if you're such a sex goddess, how did your interviews go, Collie?"

"You know how the first one went."

"You know that's not the one I mean."

Colette was not the only one wanting to forget her first interview of the evening. Much as he tried to shut the encounter out of his mind, it was impossible for Dick Dastardly to forget. He sat at the table by his window and looked out. He was on the fourth floor, so he had a view of the city from quite a distance. Lights flashed on and off like a cluster of fireflies, and he couldn't help but remember that Colette was out there somewhere, not far away.

"It was always one extreme or the other. There was never a middle ground. I can't believe we lasted as long as we did. The lows were so low, but the highs were incredible." In all the years they had been apart, Dick hadn't given her half the amount of thought as he had given her this evening. One thing that he had never processed before was just occurring to him now after so much thought about Colette Muttley.

Outside, Muttley was in thought, trying to put a history to the face that he had seen pass the Mean Machine. Her appearance, her smell, the sound of her footfalls, it all added up to one person. It was only a small sliver of Muttley's young life that he spent around Colette, but it was good for him, and he remembered her for it. Every time she stopped by in those past years, she was never short of dog treats. He never really knew what became of her, he was thrilled to see her again, as she was the loving owner he never had. The disappearance of this source of affection had only ill effects on Muttley, which had been present in him ever since.

Dick, on the other hand, knew Colette had never been a fan of dogs, but Muttley was nearly human in her eyes, like a little brother. Many times Dick had fought to convince himself that Colette was there to be with him, and not Muttley, but as time went on, it became increasingly difficult to believe it. Muttley never wanted to be any part of their conflicts, but on the rare occasion that he did, it was obvious which side he would take.

In every relationship a person has, the best and the worst always stand out in memories. The worst were bolder and brighter in Dick's few distinguishable recollections of Colette. Mostly, one image stood out. He was yelling at Muttley. No, he was yelling at her. "Do I even matter to you anymore?"

Her mouth was moving, and sounds came out in a fury, but he was raging as well, and unable to listen. After pacing back and forth for quite some time, trying to hold an explosion in, it couldn't be done anymore. So many times, he had wanted to lash out at her, especially in times when she angered him so much. It was as if she wanted to escape him; but every time he tightened the reins, she got farther out of his reach. He wanted to see her in pain, to come crawling back to him, wild with fear, looking to him to patch everything up, and heal every wound

When she was no longer present to see what he did, Muttley took the damage intended for her. Although Dick never really wanted to see his dog suffer through what was meant for someone else, he made a more willing target. And in his mind, he could picture Colette, who was already an animal in his mind, wallowing in blood in the dog's place.

"I never thought I could love someone, and then hate her so quickly." It wasn't so much that he had ever hated her; in his mind, he felt he had been chasing after her since day one, and that she had slipped farther and farther away until she was gone. Making that even worse was that he was convinced that she had been leading him on, only playing with his emotions to see what he would believe.

He slid his long jacket from his back, revealing bony shoulders and a delicate physique beneath his black undershirt. In doing so, he could picture himself in a different time and a completely different place. Unwilling to dignify Colette with another moment of his thought, Dick kicked off his boots and jumped into bed forcefully. Turning off the light, he instinctively reached forward, as if to touch someone lying beside him. As he remembered that no one was there, he withdrew his hand, and closed his eyes. He was alone now.

"What? Are you for serious?" Laurel was very much awake.

"Shhhh. Don't yell." Colette warned her, in a futile effort to calm her. Leaning back on the bed, Laurel reached into her pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. "Didn't Bonnie tell you she didn't want you to do that?"

"No, she said, Laurel, I don't want to see you smoking in here again.' Number one, she didn't want to see me smoking, and she can't. And two, we were in her office when she said that."

A very impressed, yet confused, Colette stared blankly back at her. "Only you would remember so much just to prove something like that."

Puffs of smoke drifted across the room. "I needed that. But back to the important thing. You have a date in two days ooooh" Laurel's heart had never left grade school.

"It's not a date really. I just met him a few hours ago, and I only spent about half an hour with him."

"So he could be Dick Dastardly all over again for all you know?"

"Laurel, it isn't a date, so it's not the same thing. And he seems like a straight arrow to me." Colette's frustration with Laurel's innocent game-playing was building. Laurel was equally frustrated with Colette's casual attitude. To Laurel, practically any situation that involved a male and female together was a date. And any date was a newsworthy event. "Plus, he would be alone otherwise. All the other racers are friends with each other, and even Dick has Muttley."

"I think there's more to it than that. You must just a little" Laurel was clearly grasping at straw, trying to get something out of her friend. If nothing else, this was what gave Laurel an edge in journalism. She would pry without end until she got what she wanted.

"Well"

"Well? The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

"Well, he's a man in uniform, isn't that enough? Ok, and I think his accent is kind of cute."

"Aha! I knew it!" Proud of her work, Laurel jumped to her feet and danced across the bed, bouncing Colette into the air as well. The two laughed harder than they had for ages, even though Colette knew that Laurel had found something new to blackmail her with.

A few minutes of this passed, then a banging sound boomed from behind them. "Quiet in there!" Bonnie clearly didn't see the humor of the moment, which was just as well.

Once the bouncing had stopped, Colette and Laurel had gotten her wild laughter under control. "I guess you're going to tell everyone now, aren't you?"

"Naaah. I'll save it for later. But I never would have thought, you and the Red Max. Gotta say that I didn't expect that from you. Especially since I thought foreign accents pissed you off."

"Only fake ones. You know, like when you pretend to be Paul McCartney. That always drove me crazy."

"But Max's accent drives you crazy in a good way. See, I told you you'd find someone new!"
"Do you think he'll even like me, like that? It's not a date."

Laurel looked thoughtful. "You've dated before. I think you can handle it."

"That's nothing to go by! Think about it." Too much too soon was all Colette could imagine. Twenty-four hours earlier, she hadn't even planned on looking for new boyfriend material. Now she was trying to get back to her girlfriend mode. She was still trying to convince herself that the next evening would not be a date, although that was what she inwardly wanted it to be. In fact, Max was the last person she had envisioned herself with, especially after the first day. That was the only time she had given him any thought at all. Until tonight.

"You're right. Well, I really don't know what to tell you. You're the one with all the experience."

"Great. I've lost control of my life." Colette raised a hand to her forehead. "Oh well. At least this will be a more interesting out of control that usual. You don't think he's gonna wear that uniform then, do you?"

"With you around, he won't for very long!" Laurel was in hysterics again, but Colette was too tired to care. Whatever the days in Montague held in store for her, she was unsure. The best she could hope for was an evening out. Away from work, and Bonnie's constant motherly nagging.

Morning was anticipated with the prospect of a three-day stay in Montague, New Jersey. For Dick Dastardly, the night dragged by like a thousand years. Every few hours he would wake, only to toss and turn until he finally dropped off from exhaustion. Not that all the other racers had a perfectly restful night; many were ready for the next day to arrive, and their inability to sleep showed it.

Penelope never slept any longer than she needed to, and this morning was no exception. At a little before six, she sat up and shook her head, running her fingers through the fluffy blonde mass that framed her face. She sighed and slid out of bed, blinking to rid her eyes of their bleariness. Even in the northern states, September still clung its summery feel, and light was already beginning to trickle between the slats of the venetian blind on the window.

Once she reached the bathroom, she set about dealing with her hair. Several knots later, she was awake, and determined to do just as she had the day before. No better. "A few trips to the winner's circle are all I need. One moment in the lil' ol' spotlight will lead to another." As far as she was concerned, she stood out on the circuit, and placings would add to her notoriety. It was entirely possible that if the right people were watching her at just the right moment, her reputation as a glamorous actress in the making would not go untouched.

She did, after all, have an advantage. Being the only female in the race was a definite asset. Just as she had assured herself all along, she had no competitor able to resist her, not even Dick Dastardly could bring himself to do so every time. The time Penelope was putting into her appearance was not only to provide herself with the boost she needed. It was part of her strategy.

By the time she was finished, morning had come. She prepared to leave for the lobby, where everyone else would be waiting to check out. Gathering a pile of various cosmetics and organizing them in a plastic violet case was time consuming, but part of her routine. This plastic case held all kinds of other small odds and ends, things that might come in handy at any given time. Various compartments contained spools of thread, a small notepad filled with names, phone numbers, and even song lyrics, and shoe polish. Going downstairs could wait. Penelope was thrilled at these discoveries. During the summer she had put this collection of items together, and now was a chance to see all she had prepared herself with.

In one of the last compartments, Penelope unearthed something she couldn't believe she thought to add. "The pill?" She was surprised at her discovery, then mentally gave herself a pat on the back. Considering it again, she giggled, "I was thinking ahead!" As she stood prepared to put the pills away and head for the lobby, she decided against it and made a quick trip back to the bathroom to take a pill. When she returned, she marked the date and time down in her little notepad. "Gotta remember that." Everything was in order, and once she had satisfied herself of that, she finally left for the lobby.

She found herself to be one of the last ones down. The others were seated in overstuffed threadbare chairs around a glass table littered with old magazines and ashtrays. Penelope stood in line at the front desk, behind the Gruesome Twosome. Little Gruesome was too short to see over the desk, so Big Gruesome was left to deal with everything, and seemed to be struggling to do so. "You keep your Book of Shadows in your wallet but not your money?" Big Gruesome stared down at Little Gruesome awaiting an explanation.

"You never know when you might need it!"

Even though it meant being held up, Penelope didn't mind listening to their conversation. It was amusing, to say the least. Peter Perfect was sitting in the circle around the table already, covering his nose because the Ant Hill Mob's smoking was getting to him, but he still managed to talk on and off with Rufus Ruffcut.. He had missed Penelope over the years, and he was thrilled that he had met up with her again. So much time had gone by since he last heard from her, he had been afraid that she had found someone else and started a family. Still, he knew deep down that that was not Penelope's style; she preferred her freedom. Peter knew that, as he had tried once, but somehow, it never came about.

Quickly, Penelope checked out, and carried her things over to where the others were. Without a word, she stalked in Peter's direction, until she stood right behind him. He was unaware of her until she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Good morning, pretty Penny." For quite some time, Penelope had forgotten the old nickname. Now, multiple occasions of getting a flat tire and being greeted by Peter, more than ready to offer his assistance.

"Hey," Rufus snorted, glancing over at Peter while Sarge and Meekly still bantered away, not seeming to notice that Rufus was no longer listening. "I didn't know you two were still together."

"I guess you could say that, " Peter answered him, looking more at Penelope than Rufus.

"Thank so!" Giggling, Penelope leaned down and kissed Peter on the cheek again.

Rufus snorted again, shutting his eyes and looking unmistakably tired. "Save it for when we get to Montague."

Straw hat tilted over his eyes, Luke was slouched in his chair. His hands were laced on his stomach, and his feet rested on the table. For him, life was spent for the most part semiconscious. Pat Pending wanted to sit in the empty chair next to Luke, but almost tripped over Luke's extended legs on his way there. "Luke, put your feet down. Don't do that in public." Pat's frustrated face was the first thing Luke saw when he lifted the brim of his hat.

"Dang, don't pitch a hissy fit. I'm movin'em."

Pat looked at his watch. "We should all be moving our feet. The race starts in 45 minutes." Everyone was now listening, then moving.

Within a half hour, the eleven cars were lined up at the starting line, some of the engines already humming as they warmed up. Unlike the other races they had been in so far, this one began in a city, as opposed to the close-knit towns they were used to. People formed a thick line on the side of the street opposite to the hotel. The sound of the cheering was deafening, something like the roar of the ocean. The Ant Hill Mob ducked into the Bullet-Proof Bomb, desperately seeking protection from the noise. Ring-a-Ding and Danny stared blankly into the throng. "Clyde, why are they cheering now when usually they just scream when they see us?"

"Because theyz know we already have an alibi."

The starter gun sounded, and the racers took off in a cloud of dust. The noise was almost unbearable, between the cheers of the onlookers and the roaring of engines. Much like the previous race, Penelope Pitstop took an early lead, maintaining it easily throughout the race. Close behind her were Peter Perfect, the Gruesome Twosome, and the Red Max.

Unexpectedly, the Gruesome Twosome began to pull ahead. They were side by side with Penelope, and Peter and Max were side by side behind them. They neared the finish line, still forming a square. Just before they reached it, the Creepy Coupe's dragon was beginning to feel the exhaustion of his tired wings, slowing down gradually.

Giving it all she had, Penelope was determined not to let victory slip through her fingers so easily. The Compact Pussycat blasted forward, and the three cars behind her, the Creepy Coupe, Turbo Terrific, and Crimson Haybailer crossed the line nearly in unison.

It didn't take long to determine that the Creepy Coupe had claimed second. Figuring out third was more difficult. Several minutes elapsed as the other racers began to trickle in, Dick Dastardly among the first. Upon the sight of the four racers already in the winners' circle, Dick slammed a fist down on the steering wheel. "I can't believe we got so low on gas that early in the race. We had a full tank last night!" Dick muttered to no one in particular. "It's like we're cursed." Muttley snickered quietly, again proud of himself for continuing the legacy Dick had given up on.

Peter and Max had gotten out of their cars and stood next to each other, awaiting the results. "Whatever happens, we both did well." Shaking Max's hand, Peter hoped beyond all hope that he had found himself a place in the winners' circle.

"Yes, very close." Max's heart was in his throat. He was anxious by nature, and this was no exception.

Before long, the official results came out. "After watching a slow-motion replay, we have confirmed that Penelope Pitstop is our winner, the Gruesome Twosome were second, and" the voice paused, and not a sound was audible as anticipation built. Peter and Max held their breath. "and the Red Max is third by a fraction of a second!"

Max placed one hand on the side of the Crimson Haybailer as he recovered from the surprise of the good news. "Congratulations, Max!" Peter shook Max's hand again, masking his disappointment at the decision.

"Zank you! Vas close, you vin next race."

"Hope so. Thanks!" Peter was determined to accept the news graciously, although it certainly wasn't easy. From across the winners' circle, Peter noticed Penelope waving to him. "See you later, Max." Peter left, going off in her direction, preparing to hand out more congratulations, still wishing he could have landed a placing as well.

Now alone, Max sighed contentedly. He had gotten third! While he prided himself on how well he had done, he was sure he heard someone call his name. It wasn't a cheer, it was a call; someone wanted his attention. He turned in what he thought was the direction of the voice. Lining the street was the mass of faces that came with the territory, and he tried to pick out a familiar face.

The call came again, from a dark-haired girl near the street, but a little behind the finish line. It was Colette. Still in the street, he approached her, still grinning with satisfaction. After a quick word, Max returned to the Crimson Haybailer, starting it up again for the trip to the hotel in Montague. The entire group of racers was looking forward to their two-day stay there.

The Black Hills Pioneer journalists shared the feeling, but like a family, there were rough spots. "Jack Harris! We haven't been on assignment a week yet and already I want to go back." Bonnie fell onto her bed, tired.

At the same time, Jack was leaning against the wall with a shocked stare on his face. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Your interview was nonexistent. Didn't you think you should probably use more than half a page for each one?"

Still oblivious to Bonnie's distress, Jack looked blank, while Ashleigh, Colette, Laurel, and Julia tried to hide their desire to double over in laughter. Jack was so blissfully unaware that he was already in danger of Bonnie losing her temper and him losing his job. "Uh maybe?"

"Girls, you can go, you've been doing well. Jack, get away before I have a heart attack." Jack grinned, looking like a child with a new toy. He made a beeline for his room, wanting to watch the movies he had rented, all of them ones that would certainly give Bonnie a heart attack.

Julia and Ashleigh got on well because Julia loved to talk, while Ashleigh mostly listened. They slipped away to their room. Ashleigh had brought her Tarot deck and Julia was eager for Ashleigh to do a reading for her.

None of the journalists Bonnie had been put in charge of had abandoned their schoolyard days altogether. Colette and Laurel were sitting opposite each other once again on one of the beds in their room. "So" Laurel knew she didn't need to say any more for Colette to know what would come next, but she continued. "have you talked to Max today?"

"Hardly. Just managed to get a word in after the race ended."

True to her ways, Laurel pushed for details. "What did you talk about?"

"We didn't have time to talk about anything. We just agreed to meet at the coffee shop downtown at eight-thirty tomorrow night." Colette paused and traced the patterns in the bed's duvet, a nervous compulsion of hers. Suddenly, she looked up, concerned. "What do you think Bonnie would think about this, if she knew?"

"I don't know. I guess I never thought about it before. And of course she would have an opinion on it." To Laurel, Bonnie was the stereotypical destroyer of all enjoyable things. As far as she was concerned, Colette's newfound friendship was just as interesting to her as it was to Colette, maybe more. Bonnie finding out could mean loss of that recreation. Laurel had already taken it upon herself to see to it that Colette would elevate this friendship to a new level. While that was processing in Laurel's mind, another notion made an appearance. "Colette, I've got to ask you something. I never thought of it before. Did Bonnie know about you and Dick?"

With an uneasy smile, Colette considered it. "I don't doubt it. Everyone seemed to know. She's never mentioned it though. I'm grateful for that."

"Something else, too. You always told me everything that went on between you and Dick when you were together, but I never knew how you met."

"Are you sure?" Shocked, Colette stared at Laurel open-mouthed. "I was sure I had."

"Nope. If you had, I'd remember."

"Think back to when we were in college. You used to sneak into my dorm room, and we'd watch the races on tv. One day, we heard that they were going to race across the Dakotas. It was on the local news as soon as the stations heard about it. Since the finish line wasn't going to be too far from where we were, we went to watch.

"It was hours. We were all lined up in the town, waiting for them to show up. The Double Zero was the first one we saw coming in, and everyone was cheering. It didn't matter that it was just him. Everyone wanted him to win, but at the same time we didn't, you know?"

Until that moment, Laurel had little or no recollection of that day, but the Dakota Derby was starting to come back to her. "Yeah. He put so much effort into it, everyone did want to see him win just once."

Even Colette had to nod in agreement. "But then when he was coming in toward the finish line, he was arrested because they thought he was some criminal on the run. I'm not surprised, he always looked the part. So while everyone's snapping pictures of the winners, the police had Dick. But they let him go later that day because the fingerprints didn't match.

"I wasn't thinking about him at all when I went past the station on the way back to our hotel. But while I was going by, I noticed Muttley wandering around, even though I didn't know it was him then. He must have been left with the car and didn't stay. I got him by the collar, and while I was trying to read the tag, I heard Dick's voice. He'd been looking for Muttley, and then when he saw Muttley, he saw me, too.

"His first impression was all it took. He was smiling, really smiling, not smirking like usual. We were both going to be in town for a few days, so we were out together every day."

A revelation dawned on Laurel. "So that's why I could never find you anywhere that week. But didn't he have to be in other races after that?"

"He did, but only for another month or two. And we wrote to each other until then. Then he came to Spearfish, and the rest is history." Although she wanted to remember it fondly, there was just no way to. Memories of the golden early days were tarnished by memories that came later.

Against her will, Laurel found herself impressed and disbelieving. "You've done it before and you'll do it again. There must be something about you and these guys."

"Hey, this is different. Plus, this is Max. Do you think he is even thinking about it?" Colette was certain that he wasn't, that he would have other things on his mind. Placing third in the day's race should occupy most of his mind, at least for the rest of the day, wouldn't it?

The Convert-a-Car: 18

The Compact Pussycat: 16

The Bullet-Proof Bomb: 16

The Army Surplus Special: 13

The Creepy Coupe: 9

The Arkansas Chug-a-bug: 9

The Turbo Terrific: 9

The Crimson Haybailer: 7

The Buzz Wagon: 7

The Mean Machine: 4

The Bouldermobile: 4