Chapter 16: This Storm, Yours
She hardly left a scratch, it was like being hit with a pillow- well, almost. Had her light not cracked like an egg, maybe he could laugh about it, but seeing her wince in pain was tough to look at.
Jackson glanced behind, seeing the Honda rolling slowly, a few meters distance, behind him. She had her upper lip curled over the swelling corner of her mouth, her eyes squinted closed, and opening ever so often to watch where she was going.
The trailer was just where he left it, and Jackson wasted no time inputting his password, allowing the hatch to roll down slowly. Melise soon pulled up, keeping a moderate distance from the high-tech moving van, beginning to feel guilty of the events leading up to her headlight's demise. She winced ever so often as her right fender moved with her jaw, despite the damage being seemingly minimal.
Melise watched Jackson glance suspiciously about the parking lot, then breath a sigh, relaxing on his axles.
"I think you should go inside," he said, his cool eyes turning to face her surprised expression.
"What? Inside your trailer?" she inquired, her voice sounding vaguely like she was speaking with her mouth full. Jackson stared back, bored, as Melise began rambling.
"I refuse," she squeaked, "I can't do that, I... it's, not right—it belongs to you... I won't invade your sanctuary—" Melise's speech was halted by a shock of pain from her damaged fender. She hung her hood down as she covered her mouth with her treads, squealing into them as quietly as she could. Jackson raised a lid, an annoyed face plastered on his front. He was glad she was done talking, but he wasn't happy with the answer.
"Jeez, remind me not to wreck myself," he said in a flat tone. The racer began heading inside his trailer, looking amongst the empty space, his fanmail stashed back in the far corner. He knew Gale stored a first aid box in its quarters, but he never cared to know where it was. A whimpering was heard behind him, and Storm, reversed out of his trailer, an incredulous look upon his hood. Melise stared back, flushed cheeks and remorseful.
"Be quiet," he whispered, agitated, as she nodded rapidly, embarrassed with her display. He revved back into the trailer, and Melise listened as he rummaged through what she assumed was cabinets. Her eyes blinked a few times, before she slumped her hood down, a frown grazing her front as she stared to the ground, ignoring the coppery taste in her mouth.
The very idea of coming down to the track was now creeping in as regret. Sure, she had taken up Tony's offer, hoping to grow a sort of friendship, but it ended miserably. She could barely converse with them, feeling alone as the only girl, and being the quiet car she was. To make matters worse, now she had broken her headlight, and Jackson Storm's reaction to the injury was more of contempt than sympathy.
Melise didn't understand him, he seemed calm and collected, but at the same time, he looked unsatisfied with his surroundings, as if he was the only car on Earth. One minute, he was talking to her, albeit, with relative distance, the next, he wanted her several thousand lanes away with duct tape over her mouth.
When Jackson reversed out of his trailer, he glanced back to Melise as he turned. She had her eyes adverted away, staring down to the ground, her peach paint on her hood- a shade of rose- as her lips lay together crooked, her bottom lip swollen at the corner closest the the headlight, and quivering.
"Hey," he said flatly, waving a tired in her face, she backed away as her eyes followed the movement for a second, startled.
Jackson peered at the injury, and squinted in thought. It looked like it hurt, as the crack was right to the edge of the light, causing the peach fibreglass to redden near it. He gritted his teeth, she had caused the injury herself by driving like some bumper car.
He pulled the gauze out of the stitched roll, holding it under the weight of his tire, and rolling it out with the other. Jackson could tell Melise was desperately trying not to squirm as he began tossing the gauze around her right fender, using her axle as the bandage support.
Melise glanced to the racer, and watched the face she once saw on the jumbotron— concentrated and stern— focussed on wrapping up her silly injury, instead of leading a pack of fierce race cars at 200mph.
"How do you... umm..." Melise's eyes adverted back and forth from Jackson, closely to her, concentrating on his task, and back to the ground.
"How do you do it?" she murmured, as his grey eyes glanced to her windshield, listening to her quiet voice, "...go so fast, I meant."
Storm didn't answer, turning his eyes away, and studying the gauze slowly burying her light.
"You seem sure... of yourself," Melise pinched her eyelids shut, jittering briefly. "Was it ever hard to beat other racers?"
"Where am I, an interview!?" he stated boldly, his voice rising, looking in her startled eyes.
Melise reversed a few inches, glancing to the wrapped headlight before looking elsewhere in melancholy. Jackson didn't seem phased by her dismay, worse yet, annoyed further by it. His grey eyes were narrow as he tossed the remaining gauze into the kit, throwing it back inside the trailer with a small crash. She cringed at the sound, keeping her eyes away.
"Well, I've always been alone," Melise murmured, trying to ease the tension. She tried to speak through the muffled feel of her mouth, and the clog of shame in her system.
"My mother and sometimes my grandfather, are the only family I have around now," her voice fell in and out of tone, as she tried to ignore the pulsing of her wound, keeping her eyes to the ground.
"And being alone, being quiet, you don't have much— if at all, friends, or someone to talk to about silly, or amusing things..." Melise trailed off, bringing her eyes slightly up, seeing Storm facing her, his expression looked... different, as if she had said something meaningful, it surprised her.
The racer's mouth formed a small arch as he stared back to a silent Melise. He seemed to be calculating and searching her with narrow grey eyes as the convertible turned her attention elsewhere in shyness. She didn't bother thinking over what she said, if Jackson was annoyed with it, he would let her know right away.
Melise winced and pressed her eyes closed. She began blinking several times to see Jackson's cool grey eyes scanning over her swelled lip and the fenders on each side. She quickly covered her mouth in her treads, taking a few once overs in the reflection of the shimmering trailer to see, vaguely, that her mouth wasn't damaged or leaking fluid. She kept her tires locked over her jaw, embarrassment heating her engine, and warming a rosy tone on her hood. She cringed behind her tires at the sudden pressure she had put on her mouth.
"Weird, as usual," he muttered watching her timid nature crash in, as his tone fell flat and calm again. Melise felt her gas tank sink as Jackson seemed to look at her incredulously with his sentence.
"I don't understand... wh—"
"Hey! Storm! It is him out here!" the engines of several cars wielding digital cameras enveloped the IGNTR trailer in a matter of seconds. Jackson nearly reversed into four of them as he turned in immediate surprise to the voice of the vehicle, frustration quickly coating the racer's hood as he was soon surrounded. It didn't take more than a few seconds for the horde to engulf a startled Melise, closing her eyes and hiding behind her tires.
"We thought maybe, it was your crew chief," a car next to Jackson stated in the commotion, "but no! It's the Jackson Storm! Carbon fibre and all!" Jackson hardly acknowledged the 'ring-leader', as he squinted in the mess of photographers invading his privacy.
"Storm! Is it true!?" a voice shouted, "Is it true this young woman is your, quote 'Sweetheart Wagon?" Jackson's expression became a look of pure bewilderment.
"WHAT!?" the race car glanced to Melise, the center of attention to several other paparazzi as she cowered against the back wheels of the trailer in confusion and shock at the sudden change of atmosphere. Jackson stared at her, teeth baring at the news, and now enraged.
"How do you think you will fare against the newer next-generation racers in next weeks race, Storm!?-"
"Can we get a shot of your side!?"
Jackson wasted little time revving his engine loudly, watching the crowd back away in sudden astonishment. A sudden crack resonated from Melise's direction, and the convertible rammed between two camera cars, an audible squeal above the noise as she slipped on her treads to the asphalt with a drag of her undercarriage. The bandage came loose, and her headlight— shattered in her fender— rained pieces of glass to the ground. Behind her, a larger car with his reverse lights on. His mirrors caught sight of the convertible laying in a mess, and didn't take a second to accelerate towards her, camera in tow, the others snapping more shots in eager pride.
Three loud honks of a semi-truck's horn caused the vehicles to scatter around, hollering questions and statements to Jackson as the racer glaced to see Gale approaching, a look of surprise and annoyance on her usual cheerful hood. Four security staff from the hotel sped past her, shoving vehicles away from the racer.
"Disassemble, get moving!" the large SUV shouted, Gale looked amass the chaos, focussing her attention on a young convertible, straightening up herself as she wobbled to balance on her tires. A security car quickly grasped her left axle, pulling her away from the scene, and tossing her towards Gale.
"Whoa! Whoa! Hey! Watch it, Sir!" the semi caught her under her tire, watching her eyes widen as she stared up to Gale, eyes full of tears, and her right fender, dented in with a damaged headlight and swelling. It was 'Peaches', her soft features, Quincy's description, she was with Jackson— it all pointed to the peach convertible in front of her.
Gale took a glance at Jackson, brushing off a paparazzi asking for a shot of him and the girl in front of her, a few meters away while the shouting, and constant flashes died down. Security formed a car-made barrier in the space between the three outside of the trailer, and the eager crowd surrounding.
"Hey..." Gale looked over the young car hovering her hood down and hiding behind her wheels like a terrified little tractor. "What's your name?" she asked, her voice gentle, hoping to assure her.
Gale smiled as the girl took a breath, and balanced herself. She removed her tires from her mouth, "M-Melise." she answered. Gale returned a smile, hearing her loud and clear over the noise. Melise turned to see Jackson approaching the pair as security began forcefully rolling the spectators away, his grey eyes tweaked with annoyance as they set on her.
"IF YOU LISTENED! IF YOU DID WHAT I SAID, THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED!" his voice was the loudest she had ever heard, the loudest anyone had ever aimed at her. Gale's front became a look of astonishment and uneasiness as she watched the exchange.
"If you just went into the freaking trailer," Jackson's teeth gritted as he glared at Melise, startled and staring in horror, "and if you could drive straight like a normal car!"
Melise's voice was nowhere. She stared back, every word hitting her, causing her fender and hood to sting, tears welding up in her windshield.
"Go find a doctor to fix your damages," he continued as his tone calmed down, and his eyes remained narrowed, "you're beginning to look like a garbage truck, just get out of here."
Jackson glanced her over once, an incredulous look permanent on his hood as he turned to Gale, "get her out of her before she gets blood on my trailer with her busted bonnet and light."
Before she could answer, Gale noticed Melise slowly rolling away, her expression in total oblivion as she picked up speed and cowered her way through the parting camera cars, suddenly riled up at her exit. The convertible sped off towards the hotel as security hollered for them to make room.
Gale found it odd, she had no clue what had occurred beforehand. She watched Jackson's expression begin to turn blank and void of any sympathy as he closed his lids. His stern face returned as he reversed into his trailer, closing it immediately, and keeping his eyes down as it folded up, leaving her unacknowledged.
By now, much of the spectators had their fix, the cars dispersed. The last of the crowd, wandering aimlessly back to the main lot, a few following the girl into the hotel as security chased them.
Gale idled, remembering the look on Melise's front, her terror, the way her hood fell in guilt as Jackson scolded her. She was out of place, in the wrong place. She had to have been no older than Storm himself, and naive of the highway in the fast-paced Piston Cup life.
The lot was quiet, tire skid marks surrounding the asphalt around the trailer. Gale kept herself closeby, she slumped against the trailer in fatigue. She had a feeling Ray and Jackson's next meeting was going to be different.
Her tires didn't seem quick enough as she sped past on-looking cars in the Wheelsworth lobby. Keeping her hood down, and tear-streaked eyes away from contact with anyone. It didn't take long for Melise to reach her suite, she slowed down as the door came into view, her axles feeling stiff as the adrenaline depleated in her engine.
"Miss! Wait!"
She could hear tires behind her, and she took a weary glance over her mirror to see two cars, cameras in rim, approaching.
"Miss! Are you and Storm together? Are you a fan with a lucky spell on the racer!?"
She stared back, her eyes glossy with tears. The other photographer began adjusting his camera for a shot of her.
"I don't know what you mean." Melise answered, her voice hoarse and nearly a whisper. She reversed into her suite as the sharp hollering of a security jeep chasing the two away, jolted her shocks and damaged metal.
When the door was closed, the pain came. Her cheek stung, her eyes stung, worse of all, her heart stung. Melise let the tears flow down her fenders, dampening the carpeted floor.
Her mind was numb, as she balanced herself, staring reluctantly at her reflection in the mirror.
She noticed her rims and chassis first, covered in kicked up asphalt and dust, the paint around the small edges were measly chipped up patches of peach, a few scratches coated her sides, nothing she could deem too frightening, had she ever experienced them before. Her right side, the headlight, pushed further into its normal place than any headlight should be, causing the corner of her hood to bend up slightly. The glass surrounding the light was cracked completely as the metal of her fender at it's edge leaked a small mixture of oil and blood. She bared her teeth, confirming her suspicions, seeing the rows of dentine along her right side covered in red, mixing with her saliva to give a disgusting flavour. In contrast her left side, 'Stay Peachy' perfectly preserved in grey marker.
Melise didn't bother looking at the horrid car staring back at her any longer, her big brown eyes were reddening on her windshield, and the tears and pain made her more and more tired.
She turned off the room light, slumping flat on her chassis in the dark. The bright light of the hallway under the door burning her weary eyes, Melise buried her hood in her tires, hearing some voices return to chatter quietly outside her room. She sniffled, her cab shaking in her soft cries. Her overheated body warmed up the bed, creating a warm, safe, sanctuary as she drifted away.
'I wish I didn't go down to the track...that I never spoke to him.
...I wish I never got in the way...'