3. Racetrack and Spot: Secret
Morris rolled his eyes. "At least I showed up! Those bummers couldn't bother."
That's what Morris thought. And what all of the others thought. But what they didn't know was that there was a black Firebird in the parking structure across from El Capitan Theatre. A Firebird that was parked next to a metallic blue Mustang.
The Mustang was empty. But the Firebird was having more action than it had seen in quite awhile, though its owner would not have been inclined to admit that.
Between the panting breaths of making out and groping, the Firebird owner, the black-haired Italian, remarked, "My car ... is way hotter ... than yours."
Spot nipped Racetrack's neck with his teeth, causing Race to yelp and shove Spot's head away. "Serves you right for talking too much," said Spot, ever vengeful. They hadn't meant to meet up in the parking lot. It was a coincidence that they had pulled in at the same time. And they had spent some time checking out each other's cars. And one thing had led to another, like it always seemed to...
"Got a hot tip for you," Race retorted. "Always agree with the driver of the car you're in." With that, Race turned on the ignition, put the car into reverse, and backed out of the parking space.
"What are you- Are you kidnapping me?" Spot moved back into the passenger seat, from his precarious position of having been straddling Race. "Are you crazy?" He fastened his seatbelt derisively.
Race smirked at the other man, notably still scrawny after all these years. "Just as crazy as you, Brooklyn."
As Race's Thunderbird made its way through the parking structure, a little faster than he should've been driving, Spot took his words as a personal challenge. "I don't think you are as crazy as me. I don't think you've got what it takes."
"Yeah? Well you're full of stories that aren't true," Race taunted, paying for the parking with his credit card, and then letting his black car swerve out onto the main boulevard. They left the movie theatre with its flashing "Newsies: Now Playing" sign in the dust.
"Yeah, well you're full of talk, but never full of action."
"I feel a bet coming on," Race said.
Spot crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Alright. Let's hear it."
"Truth or Dare. Only, to prove that you're not a liar and that I'm not a wuss, you have to do Truth and I have to do Dare-" He stopped talking for a moment. "Whaddaya want to stake? Money?"
Spot rolled his eyes. "Money, we both have. I don't need your money. I want something much better."
"Okay. The winner gets to unveil the loser's deepest secret." Stopped at a stop light, Race looked at Spot expectantly.
"Deal." Spot spit In his hand and held it out to Race, who spit in his hand as well and they shook firmly. "So where are you driving me?"
"Thought we'd grab some dinner," Race replied, pulling into the very busy parking lot of In-N-Out Burger.
"Burgers? Classy. I'd like to give YOU an in-n-out. If you go through the drive thru, I'll make it worth your while," Spot said, gesturing toward Race's pants.
"Fat chance am I gonna let you get French fries grease on my fine interior," Race said, petting his car suggestively while pulling into a parking spot. "Though I think you're full of it, Spot. First Truth. You ever blow someone in a car while on a main street like this?"
"I think you know the answer to that," Spot said with his lips curling into a smirk. "You were there, after all. And I was ready to do it again, if you weren't such a wuss." Racetrack couldn't help but smirk back. He knew he wasn't a wuss in this area. And he had forgotten about that one time.
"That's right. Thanks for that little memory. You ever screw in a moving car?"
"Nice try. My turn." Spot looked evil as he got an idea. "And I think you're too much of a wuss to do what I'd do. So I Dare you: Go down on me right here." He unbuckled his seatbelt and wiggled his hips.
Race rolled his eyes. "I'm here for the hamburger, not the bratwurst. And I said, no messes in my car!"
"So you concede, just like that?" Spot taunted. "We barely started playing!" Race rolled his eyes again, then reached over, roughly undoing Spot's belt and pants. It wasn't the first time he'd done this to Spot. More like the twelfth. Just never out in the open like this. But if this was how Spot wanted to play... Before he got to the prize, though, Spot swatted his hand away. "Okay, okay. I didn't think you'd really do it." Spot did up his pants with a grin. He opened the door of the car.
Race looked relieved, but was slightly disappointed, if truth be told. He hid his disappointment with the question, "Truth: You ever screw in a moving car?" as he locked the car doors.
Spot snorted. "Only a few times. It pays to have a chauffeur." He looked mighty pleased with himself. "You?"
Race answered. "Of course. I've even done it in the front seat of a moving car." It was Race's turn to look proud.
"Well yeah, but you're short, so that's pretty easy for you." He wondered who Race had been with...and who had been driving... Then shook his head. He didn't want to know. He opened the door to the hamburger joint, holding it open for Race.
Race frowned. "I ain't that short. Least I'm not skin and bones."
"You mean skin and boner," Spot corrected him, with a short laugh, gesturing to his own pants. "Since you wouldn't take care of it for me."
Racetrack chose to stare at the menu rather than reply. Spot stood closely beside him, then said in a whisper, "I dare you to order and eat a five-by-five, animal style."
"You're on," Race said with a grin.
As Race struggled to finish his five-patty, five-cheese burger with grilled onions, and Spot picked at an order of fries, the two of them bantered back and forth a few more Truths and Dares.
Spot admitted, with slight reserve, that he had once had a crush on Sarah Jacobs and Swifty the Rake, "but not at the same time!" Race had to balance a French fry on his nose while taking a selfie, and post it on Instagram with the tag "#Sexy.
Spot admitted that he hadn't lost his virginity until he was 25, and that Race had been his first time. Race hid his surprise. And then Race had to pay for that truth with the next dare. Race had to ask the couple in the next table over for a threesome, and when they agreed with enthusiasm, he blushed, mumbled excuses, and ran out of the restaurant, grabbing Spot's hand to drag him out with him. Spot was still laughing when they got into the car, and after a moment Race cracked a smile, shaking his head.
"I never thought they'd actually say yes," he muttered. He looked sideways at Spot, whose laughter was abating, but still had twinkling eyes. "Truth: is this the best time you've ever had with me?"
Spot, with a grin, nodded. "Definitely the best time we've had together. At least in awhile. And we've had some moments."
Race looked pleased that Spot had said that. They HAD had some good times. Then Spot gave him his next dare. "I dare you to kiss me."
"Spot. That's hardly a dare-" Race started to protest, then Spot leaned forward and pressed his lips to Race's. The kiss felt much different than the hyperactive making out they had done in the parking structure, or the various random casual hook-ups they had experienced together in their 20+ years of knowing each other. This kiss was sweet, and somewhat jolted Race.
When Spot pulled back a moment later, his eyes shifted away from Race's, almost as if he was embarrassed.
"What the hell was that?" Race blurted, sounding a little more offended than he meant to sound.
"Just proving I'm crazier than you," Spot muttered, crossing his arms and looking out the passenger window.
After another moment of staring at Spot, Race said, still a little dazed, "Truth: Do you wish we were more to each other? More than just casually screwing around?" Race's question hung in the silence of the car, his dark eyes searching the face of the other man.
Spot's steel eyes clouded slightly, as he met Racetrack's gaze. "Looks like you won the game," he said, refusing to answer.
Race had obviously ruined whatever moment they had shared with his outburst. Huffily, he turned the ignition in his car and headed back to the parking structure. With a twinge of regret, he noted that it was after 10:00 pm. The movie had already started. So not only was he missing out on seeing his other friends, stuff was suddenly weird with Spot.
Race pulled into the parking spot next to Spot's Mustang. He killed the engine and they sat in silence for about a minute. "So what secret are you going to tell everyone? That I was a 24 year old virgin?"
Race covered his face, groaning loudly into his hands. Then he pulled off his newsboy cap and threw it at Spot in frustration. "What is your problem, huh? Why do you feel the need to take the easy way out?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Higgins," Spot said cooly, reaching for the door handle.
"Wait, Spot. Just wait a moment." Race reached for Spot's arm. "I lost the bet, too."
"Since when does Racetrack Higgins admit to losing a bet?" Spot snarled.
"You dared me to kiss you, but you were the one to kiss me," Race explained. "In the In-N-Out parking lot?" As if Spot wouldn't know what Race was referring to.
But that just made Spot angrier. "Okay, you've made your point. You didn't even want to kiss me. See ya." He was reaching for the door, but Race clicked the door lock and Spot, fumbling, couldn't for the life of him find the unlock button.
"No! No, I mean..." Race's voice was softer as he touched Spot's shoulder. Spot stopped flailing at his touch. "Can I try again?" Spot turned to look at Race expectantly, and this time Race closed the gap between them, and kissed Spot, matching the sweetness of the previous kiss.
Then Spot nodded his head and mumbled, "Okay. You're right. I DO wish we were more. Happy?" His voice was a notch calmer than it had been, but it was still testy. Everyone knew Spot hated being put on the spot.
"Nah. Not happy, unless..." Race looked down at his hands for a moment. This would be so much easier if Spot looked happy about the prospect. "Not happy unless... We make something of it." Spot didn't reply. So Race kept taking. "Not interested? Well, I'll roll you for it. I win, we make something of this," Race said, gesturing between the two of them. "You win, you can just walk away."
"Ya bum," Spot said with a grim smile on his face. He grabbed Race around the neck and pulled him close, holding Race's head to his chest. "Like hell I will walk away."
"So after twenty years of just messing around, it seems like we're finally getting somewhere," Race teased, letting his head rest on Spot's chest.
"Yeah, well don't get yourself too excited. Even if you did just prove yourself as crazy as me." Spot finally found the lock on the door and was getting out. "Come on."
"Where are we going? The movie?" Race walked up next to Spot, and Spot wrapped an arm around Spot's waist.
"To see those dirty rotten suckers? No thanks. We're going to my car. You think yours is hot? Wait til we try out mine."
In the movie theatre, the newsboys finished up their photo op and started socializing. Crutchy remarked to Morris, "well, I'm sure Race and Spot have a very good reason for not being here. Just like Jack."
Several newsies looked up at the mention of Jack. "You know where Jack is?"
"A course," Crutchy affirmed. "Just ask Dave."