Chapter 14 : 'Make Room For A Winner'

Gale made sure to give Ray the most obvious annoyed face she could muster when he glanced her way. The pick-up truck presented an inquisitive look on his windshield.

"What is it, Gale?" Ray said in a monotone voice, he skimmed through some letters from IGNTR, delivered with some cold canisters of Liquid Adrenaline.

"Do you live, Ray?" she asked, raising her tires in emphasis. "Everyday you're doing something boring," Ray gave her a half-smile, turning back to his notes.

"I'm sure I'll have time to 'hang out' once everything is in order," Ray replied, Gale rolled her eyes, shaking her hood.

"Jackson's not a little boy, he can take care of himself," Gale explained, driving herself around to face Ray head on. Her large frame covering much of the light he needed to read the notes.

"He's been training, conversing with fans, and being sure to be as professional as possible with The Press, what more is there to do?"

"Huh, well it's great he's able to compose himself, but I still need to ensure he's in top shape daily. We don't want our rookie slumping," Ray replied, looking up to her, no longer able to read his notes.

Gale reversed with a scoff, "Man, you are as boring as Jackson says," she grinned at the thought of Jackson calling Ray 'lame' with a totally monotone voice.

"You guys can mope about it, but someone has to maintain order here," Ray said, reading the letters once more.

"Those are 'Thank You' notes aren't they?" Gale asked, knowing the pick-up truck was reading nothing important, based on the fact that it arrived with juice.

"Let's go somewhere for lunch! I know a place that has an aquarium in it!" Gale noticed some interest perk up on Ray's hood, but he continued reading the letters.

"Oh come on, if the word 'aquarium' is more interesting than the papers, then they aren't anything important." She smiled as Ray sighed, defeated.

"Alright, but make sure your phone volume is on max, I don't want to miss an urgent calls from Jackson,"

Gale began cruising her way out of the hotel lounge with Ray following. As the two accelerated on the road, side by side, Ray noted an amused look on the truck's front.

"Now what?" Ray asked as he breathed another sigh.

"Leave your volume on max as we try to enjoy lunch in case Jackson calls," Gale mocked his voice, "You're Father-Of-The-Year aren't you?"

Ray rolled his eyes, squinting and thinking over what Gale said. Sure, Jackson was a rookie like any other he had trained at the academy months ago, but he was different. No matter how many phone calls, mopped floors, and cut simulator time the young racer had been through, he continued to come out strong. Some guys quit right at the start, but Jackson had pushed right through. There was even a time where Ray considered asking him about his goals in life. but even now, as his crew chief, Jackson was difficult to read, sometimes utterly umpredictable. Ray figured he would gradually let the racer come out from under his hood, he would be there to help him every step of the way.

Gale was right, a little too laid back, but right.

"Well, I guess today is my day off until the race," Ray smiled, Gale shot him a grin.

"That's the spirit!" Gale chimed as the wind whipped under her visor, she honked her horn twice, causing Ray to nearly jump from his chassis.

Arriving promptly at 6PM to the Motor Speedway, Melise followed her memorized protocol, and scanned over each can of oil. Taking her time to apply common sense to each quart she filled, she separated the cans into two groups, with the least being closest to the end side of the Pit Lane, and the heaviest cans filled to the brim, nearest to the array of teams scanning down the lane.

She scanned over her work, and reversed, bumping lightly into another vehicle. She turned slowly as she accelerated forward, meeting the grey eyes of Jackson Storm.

The commotion surrounding her didn't seem to stop as the rookie's presence was clear.

"Hello, again," she smiled, feeling her engine becoming clogged. He gave her a half-smile glancing to her fender, seeing no grey print. Turning his attention back to her windshield.

"We meet again, huh?" Storm said, "I was passing through, and you reversed into me."

"I know, I'm sorry about that," Melise said, biting her bottom lip and shutting her eyes.

"Holy Chrysler on golden asphalt! It's Jackson Storm!" a young male oil runner in red called. Melise took her eyes off the race car, and focussed on her oil cans. Jackson rolled forward to greet his screeching fan.

"Where do you want the signature? Your fender, rim, hood? I won't sign anywhere else." Jackson said to 'Lucky 95' as he approached awestruck.

"The hood," he replied in a trance-like stare as Storm began quickly signing his hood. "Man, I'll never wash my hood again..." Jackson watched him roll away with an immensely bored look on his windshield.

Melise caught sight of the autograph as she watched the two from the corner of her windshield. It read 'J. Storm' simply. No fancy quotes, no compliments, not even his full name.

"Good luck tonight," Melise said. Jackson turned to her, his eyes presenting a bored look molding into a half-smile. "You should tell the old bros that one," he began driving off, stopping abuptly beside her– looking her up and down once, "Next time, look where you're reversing." His words came out with a geniune tone. She was certain if it had been anyone else, Liquid Adrenaline, or some oil would be dosed all over them.

His engine revved as he cruised away, photographers snapping some pictures behind her. She turned to face them, and they scattered quickly, chasing after Storm, some hanging around to photograph Melise, she covered her front with her tires, as they began driving off, finding no more interest in her. A confused look spread across her front as she watched them leave.

"Welcome vehicles from our top Sky Zone rows, to our Mid-Lane rows and our fan favourite, Wind Zone the front row parking to all the action!" The enthusiastic announcer beamed, "I'm your host Darrell Cartrip, here at the Motor Speedway of the South, with my pal here, Bob Cutlass."

Melise watched as the racers circled the first turn, driving at a moderate speed. Several race cars, were absent from the track, replaced by some new cars, burly next to the number of remaining array veteran racers. Jackson lined himself up to his pole position of second place, Lightning McQueen in first place, the two looking confidently down the track as they headed around the second turn, approaching the checkered line. The two appeared to be having a conversation, Jackson was grinning, while McQueen seemed stumped as to how to reply.

When the green flag came out, an audible raised voice of Jackson Storm came from the track,

"Good luck out there, Champ, you're gonna need it!" The racers headed around the second turn as cheers and revving engines filled the stadium.

Melise began transferring her oil to the assigned pit crews on her manifest.

As the hundred-fiftith lap approached, Melise took another glance to the track, noticing Jackson had a huge lead on the three racers on his tail. She glanced to the jumbotron, seeing a confident and concentrated Jackson Storm on the track in front of him. Among the chaos of flashing lights, large track glares from the mega spotlights above, and screaming fans, Melise's squinting of the world around her became a stare of big brown eyes on the concentrated race car's shot on the big screen. He appeared down-to-earth with his calm, stern, determined expression. Jackson's eyes briefly making glances to the space beside him as he changed his line on the array of open space around his leading position.

"Go McQueen!" the chanting of 'Mr. Lucky 95' was always iconic in its shrieking nature. He was idling nearby with a big grin on his grille. Melise wasn't sure how she did it, but his hollering and screams did little to phase her, most cars around cringed in annoyance as he bounced on his shocks, waiting for his idol to pass the second turn, promptly preparing to shout again.

Melise headed around him, oil cans in tow.

By the time the final lap arrived, the loud roaring of engines giving their all echoed the stadium with even louder fans. Jackson glanced behind himself on the turn leading to the checkered flag, seeing no racers immediately on his tail, he sped past the finish line with little effort. Fireworks soon raining on the skies ad Darrell Cartrip hollered like mad-man in his press booth.

"And another win on the shelf for rookie sensation, Jackson Storm!" Bob Cutlass said over the commotion of his pal.

Melise smiled brightly, making her way nearby Victory Lane behind camera cars. She didn't see Jackson on the podium, and found herself a spot beside a tent for extra shocks repairs if needed on the track. She looked on, beside the safety of the tent as Storm rolled around the semi-circle opening of the space, ignoring the cameras. He focussed his grey eyes on Melise, while he rolled up the podium, catching sight of her unique coloring and big brown eyes among the flashing, giving her a half-smile as she beamed with a joyful look behind the camera crews. She reversed her way back to her station.

Jackson smiled for the cameras from the podium, waving his tire some, and glancing to see Chick Hicks coming from behind the Winner's Circle with a grin across his grille.

"I'm sure racking up another win against McQueen feels great, huh, Stormy-boy? Another easy win over 'ol Ka-Chow, or should I say Kaboose, 'cause he's always in the back!"

"Nah, no, no, no, Chick, McQueen is the elder champion of the sport," Jackson turned to face the cameras with a smirk on his front.

"Takes everything I've got to beat him."

The array of cars lining up to listen began cheering and chanting. Chick Hicks immediately began giving his thanks to them, Jackson on looking with an amused expression, as he rolled off the ramp, cameras flashing on his black paint, luminating it as a grey color.

As the racers made his way back to Gale, he was met with the realization that another gala was upcoming. His axles were heated up, and his shocks were minimally stiff, the parties could wait. Storm just wanted a car wash.

Meeting the proud smile of Ray beside Gale's haul, Jackson reversed his way into his intricate trailer, closing the hatch before any camera cars could invade his sanctuary.

"I think you'll be sleeping peacefully tonight," Gale's voice came in on the intercom.

"Great job, Jackson," Ray called in.

"Thanks guys," he replied, relaxing on his axles. "I'll head to the showers, you guys can celebrate without me."

"Well, we're going to play some Scrabble, because Quincy and Leon are convinced they can beat me," Gale giggled.

Jackson raised a lid, "Scrabble?"

"Yeah, you know, a physical game outside of virtual reality, with letters?" Quincy mocked outside the trailer. "I bet I could beat you too–"

"Count me out," Jackson said, he yawned through the speakers. "I've gotta rest."

"Well, let's a get rollin'!" Gale smiled at a dumbfounded Quincy.

When Jackson slumped into a deep sleep across the large VIP suite– a single pillow, under his tire–Quincy placed down his letters connecting to Gale's 'P' of 'P-E-N-I-C-I-L-L-I-N'

"E-A-C-H-E-S," Quincy spelled it out, keeping his tone low. He glanced to see Storm still sound asleep.

"Peaches?" Gale whispered, "Is that the best you can do?"

"I said 'protractor' you dolt," Leon sighed.

"Look, there's something you guys gotta know," Quincy glanced back to the sleeping race car, seeing him undisturbed.

"There are some pictures of Storm, and this girl he spoke to at the venue a few days ago, online."

Gale's front became inquisitive, "What kind of pictures?" she whispered.

"Just random photos of the two, alone in the Wheelsworth Garden," Quincy replied. Leon presented a confused look.

"Weren't you with Jackson there?" he asked, Gale exchanged a glance with him and nodded in agreement, turning back to Quincy.

"Yeah, and he was looking at her, asked to see her. I went over, and she chickened out on the 'Deal of A Lifetime'. Storm went after her, and I stayed behind."

"So now there's photos and talk about the two? What's her name?" Gale asked.

"Listen, don't tell Ray, a thing, he'll get an engine block. I don't know her name, he just called her by her paint color, 'Peaches'."

Leon glanced back to the Scrabble board, piecing together his fellow pitty's story.

"Jackson doesn't know, I doubt 'Peaches' knows, but now there's rumors spreading."

"They think she's his girlfriend, or something like that. They'll hound the both of them the next time they're together," Quincy took a glance to Jackson, still asleep.

"If you see a peach-y convertible and Jackson Storm in the same room, keep 'em apart."

I know the Heartland Speedway was the canon location for the events that have transpired in this chapter, but I figured I would mix it up a bit. The Motor Speedway of the South is well known in the universe. so I wanted to have it play a vital role in the story.

Hope you are wearing a seatbelt, there are many bumps on the road.