The driving school was a long way from their house, and Kate still managed to be late. Cursing herself with the last words and recalling Mandy's admonitions, she tapped her heels on the hot asphalt. To get to the driving school, she walked around the driving range and parking lot, fenced in with high metal mesh, and down the narrow, two hundred-foot alley that led directly to the building's porch.
The sun was beating down on her, and Kate was even a little drenched. Puffing, she hurried to the front of the building, glancing at the clutter of cars on the driving range, and confidently pulled the plastic handle.
Inside, Kate was greeted by a chill. The air conditioner hummed gently, the modestly sized light yellow lobby was empty, and only a full, middle-aged brunette sat behind the curved, semi-circular reception desk. Clutching a plastic bottle of Diet Coke in her left hand, she was holding an impressive-sized hamburger with the other, taking alternating bites from one side to the other. Crumbs stuck to her lips, ketchup smeared on her chin, making her face unkempt, but it did not seem to bother her much. As she sipped her soda, she burped appetizingly, unashamedly.
In a few steps Beckett crossed the hall and froze in front of the counter, staring at the lady. Up close the brunette seemed even fatter, in addition, her glossy vest in a large red and black checkered. The lady's face was sweaty, molten, blackened, and Kate even grimaced to herself, not understanding how she could be so neglected. Be that as it may, Beckett had always considered herself emotionally stable, able to overcome any adversity, though she did not like to be late. True, today's "test" was yet to come.
With a sneaky glance at her watch, Beckett politely coughed and placed her student card on the counter. With a grunt, the brunette reluctantly set aside her unfinished sandwich and, looking at her guest with undisguised interest, reached for the piece of plastic with her fat hand:
- Which group? The third? - The lady spoke a little inaudibly and through her nose.
Kate nodded in agreement. Of course, it wasn't much fun to contemplate the pimply face of a fat girl with greasy hair and listen to her stomach cramps, but what if being late was even more stressful? And Kate discreetly glanced at her watch. There was barely two-thirds of her class time left.
The manager, however, paid absolutely no attention to Beckett's awkwardness. She poked her short, stumpy finger at the laptop's equally greasy buttons, and squinted blindly at the small print:
- Miss, you're supposed to be studying with Mr. Kessler, aren't you?
Wishing to leave the unpleasant community as soon as possible, Kate nodded happily.
- Alas, you are hopelessly late! - The brunette comically rolled out a ring of greasy lips, and her plucked eyebrows moved even funnier. She seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to sound stern. - Now wait for Kessler to be free, which will be in about four hours. We're on a very tight schedule, and we're not going to indulge any latecomers.
"Oh, shit! Four hours! Stupid lazy! sleepyhead!" - As Beckett pressed her palms together against her lips in frustration, and a sadness flashed in her eyes, the manager somehow suddenly relented:
- If you, ma'am, are pressed for time, our reserve is at your service. That's also the way to go at first.
"Reserve? What is this, some pathetic loser barely making ends meet?" - Kate bit her lower lip grudgingly, but seeing the brunette's genuine bewilderment, she burst into a baleful, sarcastic chuckle.
- What, miss, are you panicking at the word "standby"? What else are you afraid of?
- Nothing," Beckett shrugged her shoulders independently, and immediately noticed the brunette smiling broadly and good-naturedly.
- I'll certify under oath," she waved two fingers in a characteristic gesture, "that no one's ever complained about him, and he's considered a backup because he works a freelance schedule and comes in whenever he wants.
The manager rose from her seat and, stretching her neck, looked out into the short corridor that started right from the counter:
- Rick!
She listened, and with a patient sigh, called out loudly again:
- Richard! Where the hell have you been?
The only answers were the monotonous whirring of the air conditioner, and the gurgling of water in the cooler.
The brunette waved her chubby hand in frustration and muttered disappointedly:
- Go to the car. The parking lot is to the right of the exit, and when I find the instructor, I'll send him to you! I don't play around! - The brunette took her walkie-talkie out of her desk drawer and let out a thunderous scream.
Kate didn't want to hear her shriek, but marched with determination to the plastic door at the end of the corridor. Beckett had already reached for the worn handle when the sash opened abruptly, nearly knocking her over, and a tall, broad-shouldered guy flew straight into the doorway. He was dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, with a red and white baseball cap on his head. The low visor hid the top part of his face, but Kate caught a glimpse of his slight unshaven manly chin and tightly pressed lips. The stranger lifted his head, and genuine concern flashed in his dark turquoise eyes.
Almost hitting Beckett with the shoulder, the man muttered an apology and hurried to the counter at a light trot. There was a latent power in his figure, but he moved surprisingly softly and silently, like a cat.
Kate wary, her nose twitched. A thin citrusy plume of very expensive cologne lingered behind the guy, which made Beckett's interest flare up in a moment. Kate looked thoughtfully after the stranger, wondering what was so unusual and attractive about him, but remembering with annoyance, why she was here, jumped out.
Autodrome met her saturated with gasoline fumes and the smell of burnt rubber, the discordant roar of engines and blinding sun. Taking her goggles out of her bag, Beckett placed them on her neat nose to look around.
The parking lot was on the right side of the building, and there was a few-car garage adjoining the opposite wing of the driving school. The training ground itself was a vast square of asphalt with road markings. The dividing strips of striped cones split the autodrome into several zigzag lanes, on which the differently-sized cars leisurely moved.
After standing on the porch, Kate staggered toward the lone silver Fiesta. While she was remembering her first driving experience, she had no idea what a wonderful scene was playing out behind her. The man, meanwhile, was already leaning on the counter, curiously looking at the exit door, which hid the charming stranger. The boy's worried face smoothed out, lit up with a broad and even happy smile, but then suddenly became serious again. He sighed dutifully and bowed his head guiltily.
- You called, Rachel? - No one had ever spoken to her in such a pleasant, husky baritone, and with a wussy smile Rachel made a clumsy attempt to suck it up.
- What the hell, Rick! - she certainly wasn't angry about "missing," and the notes in her smoky voice became more playful, velvety. - There's a student here to see you! And why is it impossible to shout at you?
- I can't find Alexis! - Rick folded his hands in front of him anxiously, without answering the question directly. - I left her in the recreation room, but while I was messing around in the hangar, Alexis got lost. Have you seen her?
Richard twisted his head irritably, and grinned ironically when he saw the sandwich he had bitten into:
- Oh, what do I see? It looks like we have a decisive megabattle of the hamburger kingdoms here! And I, by the way, know the two biggest of them all, McBurger and McDonald's, and so I'm somehow not even aware of which one will crushingly win. As long as both chains run rousing ad campaigns, there's a real chance of ripping off a couple of buckets of ketchup. By the way, those containers make pretty good cachepots!
- Oh, Ricky! You're such a joker! - Rachel's chubby face exuded genuine joy. - I envy your presence of mind! But Rosa was sorry to hear your writing career was going so badly.
- It's a lottery, Rachel," said Rick philosophically, "you never know what ball will fall!
- Oh," Rachel spluttered happily, "and your daughter, too, in spite of her age, adores and can speak intricately.
- Yeah, all thanks to my exceptional, unparalleled genes," Rick said proudly, "Well, what about Alexis?
Rachel lifted her athletic tights a little to get closer to Rick. She spoke, breathing hotly in her ear:
- I've already sent Howard out in search of him, but don't keep your apprentice waiting," Rachel settled back in her chair, set the seal in motion, and, with a sly wink, handed Rick a piece of paper.
- Here you are. For two whole weeks we have this pretty girl all to ourselves. And be nice to her, because I don't want to hear about the jubilation of the competition.
Rick looked at the printout, and smiled wryly.
- I'm not here on a date, Rach, I'm here on business. Yeah, and Alexis might misunderstand me.
- Does she still miss her mom? - Rachel sighed compassionately on her compassionate face. If you don't mind, I...
- Okay, boss, thanks, but I'll take care of it myself," Rick waved his hand tiredly, and after drinking a few glasses of water from the cooler, hurried to the exit.
- Don't worry, Ricky, we'll find her! - With a sweet smile Rachel muttered after him, then suddenly, shifting her eyebrows, growled fiercely into the microphone: "Howard! Where the hell are you? Get over here right now!
