Chapter 17: Another Route

The bed was comfier than ever before, its warmth was safe, soothing, and breath-taking, like being buried in a duvet during a frigid winter night. Melise was awake, but she didn't want to leave it.

There was a heaviness in her cab, her axles felt stiff and asleep, her eyes were puffed, and her throat felt raw as she laid on her chassis under the covers.

When Melise stood on her tires, her weight was heavy, and she slumped to the bathroom, ignoring her reflection in the mirror as she rolled into the shower.

The water was its usual warm temperature she liked. The heat allowed fluid to breathe through her engine, and Melise soon felt her right fender beginning to pulse sharply.

She inhaled sharply, thinking over the events last night.

'Why does it have to be me?' Melise pondered, closing her eyes, and massaging her cheek with her tire. 'What's happening?'

For the life her, she couldn't understand why so much attention was aimed at her. She wasn't the race car rookie beating legendary racers, she wasn't an RSN reporter with a reputation, she wasn't even a Dinoco girl- why her? And Storm's girlfriend? She hardly knew him... the press made up some uncanny stuff.

All odds aside, Melise couldn't fathom the events leading up to last night. When she felt nervous on the track, and Storm encouraged her, when she skid, and slammed into him, when he took the time to help her. He was always distant, even the first time she met him. His eyes seemed to stare right through her when she passed his suite. A genuine smile spread across her fender, easing the air. Every pessimistic statement he had, she kindly rebuffed, and he was always perplexed. Seemingly, Jackson Storm was a force to be reckoned with, and she had unknowingly walked right into the hurricane. But the storm wasn't terrifying. It wasn't gravity-defying, it was swift, eager, and interesting. Like a dark supercell system moving in, leaving a nervous banter upon view, and a heavy downpour with gale winds. But the storm was unlike most, it evoked a wonder, an amazement with a tinge of fright. It's path was unexpected, it's power was unmeasured, confusing yet, it's meaning was unlike any other. It was a rogue system, on its own.

Melise reached blindly till she felt her tire graze her toothbrush, and she opened her lids to fill the bristles with paste, brushing away diligently.

'He thought it was me... he thinks I said those things about... us, doesn't he?'

The attention she had been hiding from for days, the on looking stares- it all made sense now, mostly.

Thinking about it caused her roof to feel sore. Her mouth and fender began pulsing as she rolled out of the warmth, and into the bedroom.

The place felt hollow, the royal purple drapes made the room appear lifeless as the cloudy Motor City outside reflected no sunlight.

Everything was out of place, Melise couldn't think straight. Glancing about the room, she caught her reflection in the mirror, seeing the peach fibreglass red and angry around her headlight, the entire area noticeably still swollen. She had never felt such misery in years.

Melise headed towards the door, she would have to get herself checked out. She began resting her tire against the door. She couldn't do it, she couldn't leave her room without being hoarded, it was inevitable. She idled for a moment, frustration vibrating in her axles.

"Melise!?"

Melise jerked into reverse, nearly crashing into the window, a transparent look of fear on her hood. She recognized that feminine voice.

"Melise?" Shannon called on, concern in her voice. "It's just me, I want to help."

Shannon knew.

Melise felt a cold rush through her system, and she slumped, rolling towards the door, opening it up to see the brown sparkling car's worried face, form into a gentle smile.

"It's alright," Shannon said, closing the door behind her. "We can't turn back time, but we're going to get you some help. There's a clinic nearby."

Melise should've felt relief, but the thought of leaving was terrifying. She couldn't muster to cause more animosity with her presence.

Shannon noticed Melise hanging her hood in shame. The corner of it, reddened and housing some dents. Her right headlight completely shattered, and ruptured inside of her fender. The look of guilt on her front said a lot about who Shannon grew to know the girl as. She was sorry, she was mistaken and was far from any groupies she had witnessed in the same boat. Many would sue, others would defame racers for money, blackmail and guilt trip... Melise was broken, saddened, and confused.

"I promise, you'll be safe." Shannon reassured her, seeing a glimmer of hope in her brown doe eyes.

"... Okay..." Melise murmured, her eyes looking for Shannon to lead the way. Soon reversing from the suite into the lifeless hallway, Shannon watched Melise look both ways, keeping herself timidly low as they both cruised to the lobby.

Melise began to calm down, noticing very little hotel patrons around. She had been relentlessly uncomfortable, forgetting to check the time. She had no idea what hour it was as she glanced about the empty elegant main floor. Despite her new found peace, the pain in her fender wasn't letting up, to make matters worse, the bright lights of each chandelier stung her puffy eyes, causing her to keep them shut.

"May we assist you," a professional voice asked calmly. Melise turned and squinted her lids open to see the maroon receptionist, the old woman's eyes basting with sympathy. "I can call a moving van for you?"

"No thanks," Shannon answered, her expression a smile and grateful. "It's nearby, and we need to go now." She took a quick once over Melise, and headed towards the door with her tire in grasp.

Noticing the black pick-up truck at the door, entering the hotel seemingly oblivious to the pair, Shannon sped past, recognizing the crew chief as the bold 2.0 decorated his doors.

Ray merged quickly, giving the two women space as they headed past. His eyes catching sight of the peach convertible Jackson had inquired about several days ago, the girl who had cheered from the pit road. He couldn't help but take a second glance, her side was battered, as if she crashed into a brick wall. Ray noticed Mrs. Spoke's eagerness to keep the girl discreet as if she were some sort of VIP guest. He kept his composure, minding his own business.

'Hope she's alright.' he pondered eyeing her, a feeling of suspicion coated his grille— an unsettling feeling, watching the two leave the lot through the tinted windows. Ray minded his own, turning his attention away, and ignoring the discomfort.

As per usual, last minute maintenance was a routine, and he needed to focus on getting prepared for the afternoon departure. First, speaking with Piston Series officials about Storm's tallies, and scores on his record-breaking stats board, then they'd have crunch the factors together for the press to make sense of his winnings. The pick-up truck headed to his suite, his trunk full of paperwork and forms.

"Everyone's like, 'I saw her fall down— did you see the way he yelled at her!?'" Grid mocked a feminine voice as he pretended to be the random unison of vehicles who spoke of the news between Jackson and Melise last night.

"They act like they're doing the world a favor by being freaking annoying with their cameras." Preston rolled his eyes, a frown soon spreading across his grille. He rolled about the suite, thinking over the events, and soon parked himself beside Grid. The young grey car was eagerly scrolling with glee on his laptop as their three other new found pals— the quiet trio of oil runners, looked on interest plastered on their hoods at the screen.

"Yeah, yeah, like you think you're some saint, bro." Grid glanced up from the screen, giving Preston a sly grin. "You know they help us."

"I dunno, I don't feel all that great knowing we left her alone." Preston said.

Grid rolled his eyes, "and I didn't feel like losing to Jackson Storm," he turned to the car beside him, "guy's as fast as a freaking rocket, sounds like one too." the silver Maxima shot Grid a perplexed look.

"You met Jackson Storm last night?" he asked, exchanging glances with Preston and Grid.

"Ye—"

"No. Not really, nah." Preston spoke over Grid, "he basically kicked us off the track when he sped by." Grid glared at Preston, annoyance circuiting through his system as his hope to have attention was crushed by reality.

"Tyke, don't bother asking anymore questions about Storm, Preston acts like he wasn't pissing his tank when he sped past us outta nowhere." Grid huffed, as Preston kept a look of boredom over his windshield.

"Whatever, dude." Preston muttered, soon glancing to see Tony entering the room.

"I could've beat Jackson Storm, he just... surprised us, that's all." Tony remarked, his tone sounding confident. His streak ended swiftly as the boys began laughing. Tony shook his hood, knowing that he shouldn't have said his thoughts aloud.

"So... what is this stuff, Yarv'?" Tyke asked, turning his attention back to the laptop screen, the young teal Elantra to his side turned the laptop from Grid to face him.

"What's this about nine-hundred dollars?" he read the fine printed email showcasing the amount as the subject. Tony sped to his side, looming over the laptop in interest as he heard the large amount mentioned.

"We hit the jackpot, bro," Tyke's pal, a dark green Yaris, replied.

"They told me they would go in if it meant extra pictures," He shot the others a grin, "so Kessler asked them what the hell we would get, they sent three hundred dollars more."

"So they finally believe that we are the masters at knowing when and where Melise is. Took 'em long enough to figure it out, we freaking work with her." Grid admonished, a look of astonishment on his hood.

"They're so desperate, man," Kessler said, a smile spreading across his grille. "They forked out three hundred dollars for one tip on her and Storm's location."

"That's good stuff on me," Tony replied, glancing among the group, "More cash-ins for us."

"Yeah, last night, one of them said he was sure Storm was gonna bring her inside his trailer—"

"Hot DAMN!" Grid whooped, Yarvis, Kessler and Tyke laughing at the thought of the ordeal.

"Well, we got our pay, so screw that," Tony remarked, an incredulous look on his hood as he changed the subject.

Preston stretched on his axles, "Yeah, so anyway, whats nine hundred dollars divided by the six of us?"

Like most, he had heard about the news this morning. A verbal altercation in the lot with Jackson Storm, and— to his surprise, his own employee, Melise. At first, it was a shock, he'd never imagined a hard-working girl with her demeanor would be the center of attention for cameras, but after learning the two had been seen together prior, he put two and two together— they were spending time with one another. Nothing different from what groupie girls did, he just didn't expect it from Melise. Getting he news of her in the clinic was another story all together he didn't understand.

The clinic was a usual quiet atmosphere as the white pick-up truck rolled in. Leaving the small examination room lead out by a nurse car was Melise and Shannon Spokes accompanying her, a large fresh bandage around her right fender, and some patches of gauze down her right side. He frowned.

Melise's doe brown eyes turned to him, her peach paint seemed faded and lifeless as she gave her supervisor a gentle smile free of swelling.

"Hi, Sir," she murmured, as he approached her. Shannon gave the man a nod of her hood and a smile.

"You're alright, Melise?" he asked, glancing her over once as the convertible nodded.

"Yes, I'm okay," she answered, rolling forward, away from the examination room.

"That's good, I wouldn't want to see you in trouble," he remarked, easing into his statement. When the nurse approached him, he turned to her, eager to hear the analysis.

"Hello, you're her supervisor?" she asked, stretching out her tire to the clipboard in front of her.

"Yes, will she be alright for the rest of the season?" he asked, Melise exchanged discreet glances between the two, her expression blank.

"Yes, she'll be fine, however, the headlight caused some internal damage to her mouth— nothing severe, some bruising and grazing." She took a glance to Melise's bandaged fender, "the light itself had to be removed, and the area must heal before a headlight replace it."

The supervisor frowned. It was against the law to drive without headlights, especially at night— let alone doing work without both of them.

"Healing can take between 3 to 6 months," the nurse added.

He thought for a moment, weighing out his options before dismissing her, "Thank you, Ma'am."

Melise watched the nurse leave, her hood hanging down in fatigue and weakness from the medicine and heavy bandaging.

The convertible's eyes met the supervisor's frowning glance, "What happened?"

Melise returned a frown, "I was being foolish." She twiddled her tire into the clinic carpet, "I was around— talking to Jackson Storm, when I should've stayed away." Her voice was like a soft piano as she told a sad tale.

"He... hit you?" the Supervisor's eyes narrowed as the words came from his mouth.

"What...? No, no he didn't." Melise's eyes widened to the sudden question.

The supervisor cooled down, listening.

"There was a large group of camera cars, and I fell in the commotion. He was trying to help me... but I should've left him alone..." Melise pursed her lips, and looked away, not wanting to discuss last night further.

He nodded his hood, believing the young convertible. There was little reason for her to lie, she was his best employee.

"Well, Melise, you see... with a damaged fender, I can't expect you to do your job properly."

Shannon bit her bottom lip, hearing the statement, knowing where it was going.

Melise closed her eyes, sighing as she opened them, "I know, Sir, but I wanted to ask... what are we doing today?"

"We'll be packing up to head out to Los Angeles later on."

She glanced to the ground, thinking over the events last night, her heartstrings suddenly tugging as she realized where things stood. There was no way she could avoid attention working with the Piston Series. They would have little regard swarming her, leeching off of her naive stance in the fast pace world. She would deter the focus of racers and crew alike, and Jackson— he was upset, she disrupted his focus, she would never see him again... but at least she got to meet him.

She inhaled sharply, meeting Shannon's worried eyes, and her supervisor's concerned glance.

"Melise, if you're okay with it, you can stay in my trailer if you'd like to stick around. I can provide you with a bodyguard and privacy as you sit out." Shannon said, a small smile across her lips.

"Things were weird days ago, when all I had was my uniform," Melise said, her supervisor and Shannon listening.

"It was like I was receiving attention for no reason... as if cars assumed I was a VIP guest, but I think I've figured out why."

"What is it?" the pick-up truck asked, an inquired look on his grille.

"They thought Mister Storm and I were together, a couple. That's why, this is why," She grazed the bandage with her tire, "I should've left him alone. He was upset, rightfully so, and I am a distraction."

Shannon opened her mouth to protest Melise's words, but looking the convertible in her eyes, she saw sincerity. A frown spread across her features and she slumped on her axles.

"Sir, I'm resigning from my position as an oil runner, I have no other choice," Melise turned to Shannon, "I'm so sorry."

"Well... I'm hopeful you'll get better, I'll have your dismissal contract to sign at the Wheelsworth Inn, then we can arrange a flight for you home." he said, narrowing his eyes in thought.

Melise began cruising from the clinic in somber, ready to obtain her belongings. Shannon forced a smile to the girl's boss, and rolled after her.

'Another great employee gone to shame.' he thought.

"Two-hundred nine, miles per hour." the simulator chimed, Jackson smiled at the infamous voice. He accelerated down the virtual track, watching the red and white stripes along the infield curb zip along an illusion of a solid red line. If only the other guys were this fast, then they could know what being a winner felt like.

The door to the private room encased away from the other simulators opened, and Storm kept his focus on the screen, ignoring the little engines of his pitties.

"So..." Quincy began, "you've been here since like 2 AM, gotta sleep eventually."

"Nah, I'm fine here." Jackson replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Quincy exchanged a glance with Leon, "Look, Ray won't like it if you're too tired to talk to fans as we depart."

"They've got nothing interesting to say," Jackson said, rolling off the simulator, his grey eyes glacing to the two. He caught them giving each other the 'knowing' glance.

"That's not what we heard," Leon stated, Storm shot him an annoyed look.

"Listen, I don't care about it, drop it." he began heading for the exit, avoiding further talk about last night.

His trailer was in view, outside of it, Ray was talking to a staff member of the hotel, Gale loomed nearby, her expression in unsual discomfort.

Jackson ignored the trio as he headed past, towards the keypad on its side. Ray glanced to the rookie, his windshield soon becoming an expression of rage. He rolled towards the racer, a cool expression on his grey eyes as he acknowledged his angry crew chief.

"I have to hear from everyone, but you about the ordeal outside your trailer last night!?"

"Good afternoon to you too," Jackson said, a monotone voice causing the pick-up truck to stare back in bewilderment.

"You know, I saw her, the same girl from the Pit Lane leaving the hotel all damaged this morning— hanging out with girls when you should be focussed on racing!"

"She's gone, that's all that matters! I don't need that convertible around me!" Storm shouted back. His eyes did a once over the crew chief. "You know what Ray, yeah, you were right she's just a distraction, you get your praise, happy!?"

"She got hurt!"

"She doesn't know how to drive straight, that's why she was damaged!"

Ray blew out a frustrated sigh, Jackson was pushing his buttons. He didn't realize how bad this could be if the press focussed on the news about him and her.

"Look, calm down." Ray said, watching the racer's eyes relax after a few seconds, "we don't want IGNTR kicking you from the podium, if you mean it— you'll stay away from her, then good. We have something to work with."

"You know what, I'm not really in the mood for this, tell Gale to take me to an empty waterfront or something." he reversed into the trailer, watching the same hotel staff member previously chatting with an angry Ray, approaching the opened hatch.

"Mister Storm, sorry to intrude," he said, a posh voice articulating his words to a degree that Ray could see Jackson was hardly listening.

"We have increased our security, you will not have to worry about an pesky girls disturbing you."

Jackson raised a lid, breathing a scoff and closing the hatch.

"Send my stuff via airplane, bye." Storm's voice said through the intercom, Ray glanced to Gale, peeking around the trailer, she gave Ray a nervous smile.

"Take him... somewhere where he can cool down, think rationally for once."

"I heard that." the racer's voice came in, his tone flat.

"Good," Ray said, his tone equally matched. He gestured with his tire to Gale to get hooked up. She nodded once, an amused smile on her hood as she listened to the exchange between the two.

Jackson glanced about his earned surrounding, he felt the weight of the trailer against his breaks, as Gale exited the lot.

Ray was right, he needed to stay focussed, but wining was easy. McQueen couldn't do much with his old engine, the other guys were nothing special, Jackson had it down to formula.

He didn't like how fond of the idea he was, but Melise was a distraction, she was like a lost girl in a shopping mall. He'd be lying to himself if he said she should be gone forever, maybe behind the scenes, behind the cameras and crowd, where she belonged. The way her eyes lit up when she watched him cross the finish line was exhilarating, it sent a shock of coolant through his engine as she smiled from the sidelines. It wasn't the same feeling he got from screaming fans, but from someone who seemed to believe in him against all odds. It didn't help that she had those big brown eyes, on her windshield with the soft features of her rosy hood. He hadn't seen any car that looked so gentle, and cringing to admit it— cute.

The trailer gradually slowed down, hatch opening to reveal the sound of crashing waves on the Motor City waterfront.

Jackson stared on, the beach in Los Angeles was always crowded. He never went there, it was colder, loud and the sun reflecting off mirror's was annoying.

It was quiet here, no honking kids, no reflecting sun rays, no cars, just him.

Gale idled with a opened magazine in the distance beside some large rocks in the sand, giving him his desired space.

Jackson found himself ready to think, ready to realize. he cruised down the ramp, thinking over the reality setting in before him. He should apologize to Melise. Sure, she was clumsy, but she didn't mean for things to go downhill they way they did, her eyes always struck this purity. If she was some groupie, she would've invited herself into his life without regard for his privacy. He'd heard Ray's sob stories about girls jumping in and out of racing athletes lives.

Jackson needed to win, that was a no-brainer, she could stay out of his way until he asked for her presence. She was a distraction nonetheless. He didn't need that negativity around him, messing up his line.

Gale glanced up from her magazine, seeing the rookie kicking away some sand with his treads. The sun began peeking through parting clouds, reflecting a glint of light off his roof. She saw Jackson briefly glance to her, turning back to the waves in front of him. Gale wasted little time approaching the race car.

"Hey, Storm, what do you say we chat a little?"