Power Couples
Speed and I performed impeccably at the last track of the Survivor Series, Zunubia. It was a beautiful raceway. We drove among the trees and through neon tunnels. Speed finished first, and I was a close second. Close as in a fraction of a second. Depressing, just a bit.
Because of our abnormally bad performance at Fuji, Speed and I placed second and third for the cup, respectively. But that still meant we were going on to the Pro Tour, and in the end that was all I wanted.
And yet, I got even more than that!
As Speed and I started passing through the Pro Tour with flying colors—literally—everybody suddenly wanted to know about the Pink Queen; this talent that had stayed hidden so long and lived to tell the tale of Tangoing with Racer X.
Stores had displays of pink and black clothes in their windows. My hairdresser told me he'd gotten a bunch of women who requested the "Trixie Bob Cut." Annville Elementary School, where Speed and I had gone as children called and asked me to speak to the kids. The woman on the other end even said, "And if you want to bring Speed Racer along, that would be nice, too."
The Racing Chronicle did a story on me called: "She has a Need for SPEED!" I think it was supposed to be some kind of pun. Somewhere in the middle it mentioned my "family."
"Shimura, despite driving for Racer Motors, is the daughter of Mike Shimura, owner of Shimura Motors and Aviation. He now resides, and operates, in an undisclosed location. All attempts to reach Mr. Shimura have been futile. We received one message from a receptionist that said 'Mr. Shimura wishes not to speak about Patricia, their relationship, her romance with Speed Racer, or her current driving sponsor.'"
I really wished they hadn't tried that. They didn't tell me they were going to try to reach my father before they asked if they could do the article. Just as well. I thought he just would have snarled "No comment," or, "I no longer have a daughter" and hung up. Then the story would have just turned into "The Pink Queen's Fall Out with her Royal Family."
"I'm sure, deep down, he's proud of you," said Speed as he read the article.
"You mean so deep he doesn't know it himself?" I asked, fingering through that morning's newspaper. "Yeah. I know."
"He probably just doesn't want to publicize Team Go," Speed reasoned. "I bet he really misses you."
"Sure," I whispered skeptically.
--
I knew he was going to be mad when I came back after that weekend; after telling him I was associating with the son of a rival company. And I was right.
"Don't you care about our reputation?" he asked.
"No, actually," I replied. "I don't."
Momma gasped.
"And why not?!"
"Because I care about Speed," I said. "You saw what happened to his brother! He needs me! He told me so!"
"I don't want you to ever see that boy again," said Dad.
"Just try to stop me!" I yelled. "You can't tell me what to do anymore!"
"Mon Dieu! La entêté gamin! La petit garnement!" he stomped around screaming. He was yelling in FRENCH!! But then again, he met my mother in France …
Something about my father hating Speed made him even more appealing to me. It made our love feel more … Shakespearean. And, of course, I didn't stop hanging out with him.
It took little less than four days for my father to finally get sick of my rebellion. It was sort of unexpected. I mean, aren't your parents supposed to love you no matter what? Aren't they supposed to see your side? Even glance at it? I knew that's what Speed had with the Racers.
But my father was no Pops Racer, and that I knew when I saw a pink suitcase on my bed. Dad was towering over it, throwing things inside.
"What are you doing?" I asked, putting my backpack on the floor. I went over and tried to pull him off, "Stop that!"
"As long as you live under this roof, I can tell you what to do," said Dad. "So if you want to keep seeing that boy, get out."
"Mike, stop this nonsense!" yelled Momma. "Let her see whoever she wants! She's only a teenager! It'll probably be over in a month!"
"Then she can come back."
"You're kicking me out?" I asked.
"It's your choice, Patricia," said Dad. "You can stay with us and the family business, or you can keep that boy and turn your back on everything you have here."
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked to Momma, "I'm sorry. I'll miss you."
"Patricia!" she shrieked.
"He needs me."
"Let's see how much he 'needs' you when you have nothing!" he shouted into my ear. "How much he needs you when you have nowhere to go!"
I walked over to the suitcase and closed it. "I choose him, okay?" I picked up a set of keys and threw it at him. "And you can keep your Mercedes and everything else. I don't want anything that's been worked on by you."
He clenched the keys in his hand, sauntered over to me, and grabbed me by the collar.
"Let me go!" I shouted.
"After all I did for you?" he asked. "This is how you thank me? You ungrateful BRAT!"
And he slapped me across the face.
"MIKE!!" screeched Momma
I'd no idea my father could be so … violent! He'd never even spanked me before. He never touched my mom. But there I was, eyes widened, feeling my cheek throb. That same cheek that Speed kissed when he was teaching me to drive.
I pushed past Dad, picked up my backpack, and started out my door. Momma blocked it, begging, "Patricia, don't do this!"
"I love you, Momma," I whispered. "But, please, let me go." I could feel tears coming and I didn't want Dad to see them.
"NO!" she wept. Then she crumbled and started crying. When she put her hands to her face to wipe away the tears, I knew I could no longer hold mine, and so I ran out the door.
"PATRICIA!!" yelped Momma.
"Let her go," said Dad. "She made her decision."
I took off out the front gate, running as fast as I could; leaving my parents and everything else that had once meant so much to me behind.
Speed was never told this story.
--
I wiped a single tear from my face and went back to my paper. I looked to the sports page. On the front was an old picture of us from the Grand Prix last year and one of Cannonball Taylor and Kellie Kalinkov.
"POWER COUPLES TO SQUARE OFF AT KIRKALA" it said over our heads.
"HUH?!" I shouted.
"What is it?!" yelled Speed, shutting The Racing Chronicle.
"Cannonball Taylor's back in it!" I yelled. "I thought we were done with him!" I let the newspaper slip out of my hand onto the table. Speed grabbed it. He glanced at the picture and asked, "Cannonball and Kalinkov?"
"When did they even become an item?!" asked I.
"Probably when Jack Rival discovered that couples make great publicity," concluded Speed. "I mean, when you first got on the track, no one could open a paper without seeing our picture every day."
"True," I replied. "And it's not like they're two people who wouldn't love to steal the spotlight from us."
Kellie Kalinkov was considered the best female driver in the WRL, until I came along. During my first race as an amateur, she decided she was going to indirectly pay Speed back for Spinning her off the track at the Grand Prix last year. To her dismay, I kicked her ass and won the race. She now hated me.
Speed cleared his throat and started to read from the paper, "Young Speed Racer, the Demon on Wheels, and his girlfriend Trixie Shimura, the Pink Queen, are the latest couple to have made a splash in the WRL. Tomorrow the two will face racing's OTHER power couple, Jack 'Cannonball' Taylor and Kellie Kalinkov on the last course of the Pro Tour at Kirikala.
"Both Taylor and Kalinkov have lost to Racer and Shimura before on the track, so one must ask if they can manage to make it go differently this time. …"
I stifled a laugh.
"Well," Speed said, folding the paper and placing it in the center of the table, "At least we know who will be trying to mash us into cans tomorrow beforehand."
--Author's Note: I know, Trixie's origin story is a bit dark, but I'm so tired of that one dimensional "Hi, I'm Trixie! I fly a helicopter! No one knows where I live! I just always hang out with the Racers! I can do great math! I love pink! I love Speed!" nature all shows/movies ... and even the comics... give her character.--