Chapter 13 : 'Just A Fan'

"We have to pay for breakfast, are you serious?" Tony said gruffly, as pulled some coins and bills from under his fender and sprawled them across the suite floor.

"They should be giving us free breakfast like the racers and RSN staff get, we work for the series too," his Swift-Wannabe friend answered.

"Well, we aren't Lightning McQueen so... yeah" The red car decked out in 'Lucky 95' stickers said. Tony shot him a glare.

"Yeah, why don't you go get an autograph and picture from your pimp, and get us a complimentary breakfast?" Tony growled, their mutual pal began snickering.

"What's your problem, bro?" the red car decked out in McQueen garb asked, confused.

"What even was that!? The other night?" Tony rolled towards the royal purple curtains, making a U-turn to face his friends. "Storm was talking to her, like she was some VIP fan of his."

"Dude, we saw it, and we don't know a thing about it, so just let it go." the grey car sporting 'Octane Gain' stickers replied.

"It looked like he was going to kiss her fender, If we didn't see the marker in his rim, I would've figured she was some groupie working with us."

"Harsh, bro. But I doubt they even know each other." the red car said, remembering when they saw Jackson Storm follow Melise outside of the hotel to the garden.

"If she had gotten herself a VIP ticket to the venue to see the racers, she could've let us in too." Tony rambled, rolling to the other side of the room.

"You know that's the only reason I got this job? To see famous racers, screw the oil."

"Well, we saw them together, so you can always have the image of Storm and her talking in your cabin, and get pissed each night before bed." the red car replied. Tony shot him an enraged look on his windshield.

"It's no big deal dude, he just signed her fender," the grey car replied, agreeing with his pal's sarcastic statement.

"She got VIP access without even paying! I bet she's eating legendary oysters with that RSN reporter she's always with." Tony said, turning to face them with a look of sheer annoyance across his hood.

"Legendary oysters?" the red car said confused.

"Let's just find a fast food, or breakfast place to eat at," Tony said with a sigh. "Get the other guys across the hall." Tony drove into the bathroom of the three-bedroom suite without another word. His two pals remained unaffected by his annoyance, and headed out of the suite.

When she opened the darkening curtains in the suite, Melise looked at the glimmering, grey print on her fender for the third time,

'KEEP CALM, AND STAY PEACHY

- Jackson Storm'

She had to be honest with herself, she didn't think he would write a sentence. It was amusing the first time she read it, but as the immediate humour weighed off her roof, she began to see it for it's creative nature. It wouldn't rub away unless the paint chipped off.

Smiling at the print, Melise relaxed on her axles, and turned away to reach for her phone. Scrolling through the small list of contacts, Melise tapped her tire on Vanda Rūūnes (Mother Dearest).

After a moment of peaceful white noise– the winds blowing the curtain into the vacany of the open space in front of it, Vanda's chipper voice answered.

"Hey! Honey! How's it going?'

Melise smiled at the sound of her mother's soothing tone, "I'm great! It's sunny out, and I got an autograph from-"

"Darrell Cartrip!?" Vanda squealed in wonder, Melise cringed at the sudden change of tone.

"No, I haven't seen him yet!" she answered her mother with a holler of her own. She smiled sheepishly as her mother's crushed grumbling came in.

"Well, I'm glad you're having fun, Melise," Vanda perked up again. "Grandpa's been hoarding Jackson Storm merchandise wherever he sees it. He got himself some glow in the dark blue tires yesterday."

"He really loves Jackson Storm doesn't he? Well there's another race tonight," Melise giggled.

"He'll be sure to tune in, he bought some popcorn for it. We'll try to look for you on T.V"

Vanda replied with a sigh.

Melise glanced at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the bright grey print glittering in the sun light.

"Melise!?" an old croaking voice suddenly called through the phone, "How are you doing, youngling?"

"Grandpa, is that you?" Melise answered, a smile spreading across her front, "I got an autograph from Jackson Storm!"

"Ah, you were always a lucky little Honda, see if you can get a photo with Stormy for me," her grandfather answered, a chuckle resonating in his tone. "Listen, Vanda and I are rooting for you to do well, and Stormy for another win tonight."

Melise smiled brightly, her family wasn't big, but they moved oceans with their support. When things had shifted from melancholy years ago, to the quiet happiness they fell into gradually, she couldn't ask for the two best cars in her life thus far.

"Thank you... thank you, Grandpa," Melise replied. A genuine tone in her soft voice.

As she stared out the window of he suite, the beauty of Nashville glossed the horizon, the Motor Speedway just in the distance with its iconic bowl and sponsored flags. She would have to find a way to convince Jackson to take a picture with her.

"Keep this up, and the other racers won't stand much of a chance," Quincy stared at the computer in front of the simulator.

"You've reached 208 miles per hour!" Leon said, astounded. Jackson glanced over for a second, his stern game face still on, soon changing to a grin as he focussed on the virtual track.

"New record. New record. Two-hundred-eight miles per hour. New record. New Record. Two-hundred-eight miles per hour," the system announced.

"Well, then. I'm headed to the buffet." Leon grinned. He reversed himself from the computer, headed out of the private room. "Great stuff, Jackson."

Storm focussed diligently on the simulator in front of him. Quincy whistling in the sudden awkward silence between the two. "So... can I finally apologize for acting like an idiot in the trailer?" the pitty asked.

Jackson's grey eyes scanned over him beside the simulator below him for a second, his stern face remaining. "I forgave you a while ago," he answered, turning his eyes back to the virtual speedway.

"Thank the Manufacturer," Quincy said with a sigh, "I figured you and Ray would still be pissed I was having my solo drinking party in your trailer while you slept."

"'Gus' tends to get over things quickly, besides, he doesn't know."

"Even better!" the forklift replied, watching the racer maintain his speed of 208mph with little struggle. He had witnessed racers speed's fluctuate up and down, sometimes by a whole ten digits trying to control their drag.

"So, did 'Peaches' ever accept the deal of a lifetime?" Quincy asked, grinning, still proud of how enthusiastic he was.

"I'm not sure what 'The Deal of A Lifetime' is, but she got her autograph, that's all." Storm answered.

"... She was good looking, I think you got lucky, I've seen some of your fans," the forklift said with a snicker. "Never seen so many cars drip oil for a rookie like you, and most were guys too."

"Are you drunk right now?" Jackson asked after a few seconds. He narrowed his eyes.

"Ha, nah," Quincy replied, laughing. "I'm jus' a little tipsy."

Storm smirked, and shared a laugh with his pitty.

"But in all seriousness, don't trash my trailer this time."

By the time the afternoon reached, Melise finally opted to leave her suite. There wasn't much she could do without a decent amount of hundred dollars on her, so watching television– specifically the science and technology network– was something different to do through the boredom.

When she was little, Melise always found herself immersed with science, from the dinosaurs to viruses of the immuno-engine system. When this job was all over, she could pursue her dreams for University.

Sometimes, it seemed like a bad idea, because Melise wasn't quite sure of where to narrow down her interests in the vast fields. This job working with the Piston Series was not what she imagined. It was turning into life experience she might not forget. The thought of school hardly crossed her mind when she was watching the racers speed by.

The garage door of the suite rolled up with it's quiet motor, revealing the beauty of the hallway's royal purple aesthetic. The Wheelsworth really loved it's royal, rich colors.

Cruising down the hallway, Melise caught sight of two female cars down the hallway seemingly studying her with interest, then whispering among themselves, taking one last glance.

Melise looked elsewhere, ignoring the strangers. She didn't take a second to think the on looking over, she'd recognized occasional glances as such in high school before.

Heading down the left side ramp, Melise soon reached the main floor, promptly seeing a black SUV approaching her with a snack tray reserved for VIP guests in tow. "Good afternoon, Miss," he greeted with a perfect smile, Melise stared back with an inquisitive smile upon her front.

"May I delight you with a parfait oil smoothie?" the SUV questioned kindly. Melise's eyes lit up with the offer, but confusion masked much of the eagerness.

"I'm not a Very Important Patron here, Sir," she answered kindly, dismissing the tasty offer.

"Don't mind yourself, Miss," he replied, ensuring his stance was as confident as his make and model. "We treat VIP and entourage the same, have a lovely evening."

The truck drove off, tow in line behind him. Melise observed him pass other cars in the room without a glance of his hood. Turning to face the Inn front counter with a perplexed look, Melise met the eyes of the receptionist, an older Camaro in a mauve color with much windshield lid shadow on. She presented a bright smile toward the convertible.

"What may I help you with, Miss?" she asked, taking the time to escort herself around the desk, to face Melise head on. "I hope your suite is comfortable enough, if not, we can find you a deluxe suite free of charge."

Melise blinked a few times, an utterly surprised look upon her hood. "No, I'm fine, just browsing around, if that's okay." she said innocently.

"Not at all a problem, we value our guests here," the Camaro grinned.

Melise nodded her hood, turning to face a few on looking cars, some smiled at her, while others stared in interest. She quickly sped her way out of the hotel, and down the street.

'Why are they staring at me?' she pondered with an uneasy churn in her gas tank.

Melise had never dealt with many onlookers before in her life, something seemed unnatural, out of place perhaps.

Slowing down to obey the speed limit, Melise caught sight of an ice cream shop.

Her eyes lit up with the thought of something sweet. Spending much of the morning snacking on some fruits and crackers, the savory taste of an ice cream cone in the hot Nashville sun was a glorious idea.

Entering the shop, Melise listened to the chiming of the bells attached to the swinging door. A young employee rolled towards the front array of flavours, as the convertible scanned the different selections quietly.

"Hmm, may I have one scoop of your Blueberry Sherbet?" she asked her, glancing up to the signage of price listings on the wall. She smiled to the young girl, then reached under her fender for some change to pay.

The girl smiled brightly when meeting Melise's eyes, and quickly scooping the blue ice cream into a cup. With a quick roll of her tires to the cash till, she studied Melise once more.

"I like the autograph you got," she said with a smile, Melise grinned back, sliding the change across the counter.

'That explains the stares' Melise imagined, feeling better about the random ordeals earlier.

"Aww, thank you, and thank you for the ice cream," Melise replied. reversing away with her frozen yogurt tucked under her tread, driving with three wheels. The employee smiled kindly, giving her a nod of her hood, before accelerating to the back room.

Parking herself at an empty and small booth, Melise had to smile to herself. One autograph and people were treating her like she was a VIP guest. She would have to hid it with some coating later when the race was to begin.

'Strange day,' Melise thought, trying to summarize the events, taking a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.