Chapter 18: Don't Bore Me

"Chat? About what?"

"Well," Gale's voice went up an octave as she watched the waves, "you looked kinda lost, trucks are used to seeing that look."

Jackson gave her a perplexed look, Gale returned a smiled.

"And, you looked really lost since we got here," she continued, emphasizing the meaning behind her choice of words.

"It happens," he answered, tone flat as he glanced back to the sea.

"Is this making you feel better?" she asked, seeing his grey eyes scanning the water for nothing in particular.

He didn't answer. Gale noticed he was looking for words.

"She's a distraction, but... "

Gale pursed her lips, squinting her eyes as the breeze caught its way under her visor.

"I've gotta focus, someone has to beat McQueen." Storm said, his eyes not turning back to her.

Gale glanced around aimlessly, her smile soon reappearing as Jackson's patience began wearing thin.

"Alright, alright, look, I want to apologize to her, happy?" his sarcasm falling flat as Gale laughed.

"I'm surprised, I guess Ray was right."

Jackson stared as his hauler giggled in a fit beside him. Gale was like a mind reader in disguise sometimes.

"Yeah, he was, and all that yada yada."

"Come on, do you ever just laugh a little in life?" Gale mused, watching his blank face staring back at her."What happened yesterday was a mishap and a gruelling one at that, but we don't have to shun ourselves forever."

Jackson stared back to the sea.

"It's great that you want to apologize to her, but stop beating yourself up over something you couldn't prevent. We didn't know she was going to hurt herself."

Storm cringed, remembering how much pain Melise was in. Her whines were an annoyance, he could remember it. Being unable to stop her pain, as she mumbled questions to him.

His thoughts transfixed on one thing he remembered her say, that she was always lonely, that it was hard to make friends. Jackson was no weirdo, but he knew that feeling all too well. When Melise announced it, she seemed to glow like a light at the end of a long tunnel. He found himself awestruck for a moment with her, everything got all annoyingly warm and fuzzy.

"When you're ready, we can head back to the hotel, and you can go look for her."

Jackson closed his eyes, breathing in harshly.

"Yeah, whatever you say."

Tony roamed the hallway, keeping his distance from Melise's suite only a few doors down. He had seen the supervisor enter, and he could hear bags zipping up. Initially, he had planned to ask Melise if she'd like to go somewhere, but it looked like that chance was slimmer now than ever before.

There was some chatter, and he couldn't make out the words. The curiosity was deafening, he rolled up to the door, listening to his boss talking to her inside.

"...Sign here, and on the last form, right here with today's date."

'Forms?' Tony was confused, he wouldn't have did it if the Grid and Kessler weren't peering out of the room down the hall, but a sudden knock on the door escaped his tires.

The supervisor was on the other end when it opened, he had an inquired look on his grille, "Tony, it's good that you came."

Tony took a glance behind to see Melise, she turned her eyes briefly to see him, that innocent and cute look on her expressionless front. The length of her left side was visible as she filled out a form in front of her, the damage to her body didn't seem to look that bad.

His boss closed the door, giving the girl her privacy. "Melise is going to be leaving soon, I'm expecting you and the others to pick up the pace, I won't be hiring another to take her place."

Tony stared back, in confusion "Leaving? Like to go home?"

"Yes, private circumstances that have caused strife."

He knew exactly what those circumstances were, her and Jackson Storm. Why did it matter to keep it private? Most cars at the hotel knew, Storm was a growing icon here. But Melise, she was leaving, as in, she was leaving for good...

Crap.

If she left... no more spinning rims, no more cash-ins. Tony took a quick glace down the hall, Kessler and Grid, both nowhere to be found. They must've left when they saw the supervisor come out.

"Oh," Tony replied, his thoughts cloudy, his engine feeling clogged.

Her suite door cracked open, and Melise met the barren eyes of Tony, she gave him a weak smile on her tired looking front. "Everything is signed, Sir." her soft voice resonated. Tony could feel the guilt creeping in like cold coolant. Melise looked sickly, like she had dealt with the stress of hundreds of broken shocks on off-road terrain. Her peach metal appeared dull and faded with the exception of Storm's autograph on her left unbandaged fender. Her eyes were still vibrant, but void of that happiness he once saw.

Jeez, the flashy stuff still felt great, but seeing her made his new sterling silver rims feel a tinge less authentic.

"I guess this is good-bye, Tony... I hope you can make working with the Piston Series worthwhile." her voice was quiet and nearly a murmur.

"Uh, yeah..." Tony began reversing, Melise glanced down, noticing his shiny spinning silver rims, his eyes widened, but she appeared indifferent as her eyes came back up, she looked him over once, a frown on her lips as she closed the door.

"You can take about fifteen more minutes," the supervisor said to her through the door, watching Tony crusing away, picking up speed as he headed back to his room. He didn't seem to be taking the news lightly.

Melise felt her engine sink, 'fifteen minutes', she repeated in her mind. Only a few weeks ago she was in awe of the experience working for the Piston Cup series, she had walked into a new world, filled with surprises— a new friend, the Shannon Spokes. She met Lightning McQueen, Cal Weathers. The fancy hotels, the sound of a full stadium of cars, and roaring engines of the racers.

And Jackson Storm...

Melise shook her cab, she felt that cold shock through her circuits again. He would never talk to her again. It was surreal how fast things could change.

She breathed a sigh, sliding her phone in front of her. Melise idled, reading the contacts screen, 'Vanda Rūūnes (Mother Dearest)'. She closed it off to sleep. Things were just as she left them, her mother swooning about Darrell Cartrip, and her grandfather going nuts for Jackson Storm. They didn't deserve to be disrupted.

Melise reached for television remote, quickly turning the channel to the Racing Sports Network. There was a show, starring former racer, Chick Hicks with a maroon car beside him, discussing the next generation race cars, among them Storm and McQueen.

"Next week's race you won't wanna miss, McQueen's chances of winning are narrower than a tractor's brain!" the green car mused from the screen, his guest appearing slightly annoyed with his remarks.

"I'll be missing it," Melise whispered. She watched the program change to a clip of Storm being interviewed, she recognized the voice, it was Shannon. The speedway, Motor Speedway— it must've been a few days ago.

"Great to pick up another victory, Storm! Tell us how you're feeling!" Shannon smiled, her tone it's usual bouncy confidence.

"Yeah, it's good to beat the other competitors, they barely stood a chance," Storm grinned, cameras flashing behind him.

Melise's mouth formed an 'O', was he being sarcastic? Surely, his statement was true, he was a growing champion, but it sounded like an insult as he grinned to the camera.

Shannon seemed briefly stumped with the comment, expecting a more sportsmanship fueled reply.

"Well, do you have any encouraging words for our viewers at home?" Shannon laughed nervously, changing the subject.

"Oh yeah, I do," Storm said, rolling towards the camera, cutting Shannon out of the shot. "When McQueen has his retirement party, I'll be sure to send anyone who wants it, an invite. Can't watch the elder champion leave without a good gathering."

Shannon bursted into a fit of nervous laughter, Melise could tell she was totally stumped. Storm was delivering a trance of unexpected comments left and right.

Was there a reason to be to brash? Melise watched the rookie racer brush off some fans asking for a picture, his front coating the same incredulous look at them she had last seen, it brought back the unsavoury memory. She turned off the T.V.

This was him, this was Jackson Storm. How had she not seen it before? He didn't care about how others felt, the way he brushed away young fans, the shady comments about McQueen, the way he yelled at her when she was caught in the squall between him and paparazzi.

Melise sucked in a breeze, her bottom lip bitten in place by her teeth. She had never given someone a reason to belittle her, but he did. She had tried to befriend him, but he was cold, each day seemingly colder.

She threw herself in drive, and exited the suite, her luggage in tow. Melise hardly acknowledged the stares of some female cars down the royal purple curtained hall.

She headed towards the main lobby, a frown upon her hood as she tried to erase the memory she had with Jackson. Shannon's eyes lit up as she approached Melise, the shimmery tone on her paint seemed to be less vibrant as she looked over her friend.

"You're always a great reporter," Melise smiled, her tone shaky as her eyes began to weld up in tears, Shannon embraced her.

"And you will always be a great oil runner, Melise. I'll never forget you... quite literally— what's your phone number?"

Melise giggled, the chipper tone seeming foreign since the day before. She began typing the number into Shannon's phone. She soon glanced behind Shannon to see her supervisor approaching, he wore a smile across his fenders.

"Well, I hope you have a safe flight, it's not going to be the same without you, Rūūnes. Still admire your hard work." He slid a an envelope to her, sealed in a default white color. "Here."

Melise, pulled the envelope to her, reading her name across it's heading. "What is it?" she asked, shooting him an inquired look.

"Your paycheck, silly!" Shannon giggled, "Still so cute! And here, another gift, this time, from me," she unravelled a poster, the bright sparkling brown car on the front, winking with her signature headset on. The caption read, 'Spokes is so Stoked to meet you!' In the corner, Shannon had personally written her signature. It was a work of art. Melise stared in amusment and awe, "Wow, Shannon, thank you, so much, I'm so stoked to accept my gift from Spokes!"

Her boss and Shannon burst into a fit of laughter, Melise's tone was so innocent when she said it, almost making the slogan sound like song lyrics. She grinned sheepishly as she tucked it in her bag,

neatly with her paycheck, quickly latching the tow to herself, feeling much better about her departure. She had made a great friend.

"I'll miss you, 'Hun. I'll call you when I have my off hours, till then heal up well." Shannon waved 'good-bye' to the young convertible with her supervisor. The white pick-up truck gave her a firm nod, and a smile as she waved back, heading out of the Wheelsworth Inn.

"Good-bye beautiful hotel," Melise smiled, reading the elegant front sign as she merged with the main road traffic. "Good-bye, Jackson Storm."

"She left!" Tony shouted, "now what?" He paced back and forth in an oval motion throughout the suite, "what the hell do we do!?"

"Well, she probably caught on, kudos to her," Preston replied, he took a sip of some IGNTR: Liquid Adrenaline as he watched Tony fuss.

"You're such a freakin' chump, Preston, you and your 'Lucky 95' stickers." Grid exhaled, "Well, if she's gone, we still have Storm around."

"Dumb ass, the whole point was that the cars think they're together, now it's obvious we lied!" Tony hollered, annoyed.

"Dude, chill," Yarvis replied, entering the suite with a room service cart, "I can hear you whining down the hall."

"Then why the hell are we so chill when our ATM literally just left?"

"'Look, we're all screwed over, but we've still got the cameras under our rims, if they want news, we'll whip up a story for them."

"Like what?" Tony asked, calming down.

"I dunno, maybe we could make a fake profile..." Grid's front lit up, the others thinking over the idea in awe.

"I don't know how you get these ideas, Grid, but it's genius. We aren't gonna be broke anymore, bring on the business degree." Yarvis said, tossing some beer to him.

"Nah, I'm just wild, bro." Grid popped open the cork, downing the cold liquid.

"Usually when stuff like this happens, conflict between Piston Cup staff and racers, the Series is quick to getting it shut down. Bad publicity." Gale stated, Jackson by her side as the two waited for the receptionist to return.

"You know, I didn't ask for company, Gale."

"You don't have to, it's my job to keep you company... unless you'd prefer boring hotel bodyguards." she chuckled, Jackson thought over the idea briefly, shaking his cab in detest as Gale laughed on.

"It's alright, I'll leave you alone once you fi—"

"Hello... Mister Storm! Ah, it's nice to meet you!" the maroon and mauve mixed Camaro said, her old fragile tires bouncing as Jackson fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, nice to meet you too, and all that jazz." he replied, his tone mostly void of any excitement. "Melise, peachy convertible, what room's she in?"

"Oh, well that is strictly private, Mister Storm," she boomed, exchanging glances with Gale and the racer, his face bored with her statement. "And besides, the patron in that room checked out of the hotel about half an hour ago."

"Wait, wait— what?" Jackson's front contoured an expression of bewilderment, he looked to the old Camaro for answers.

"Miss Melise Rūūnes? She checked out of the hotel today."

"But it's only noon, we haven't even left for Los Angeles..." Gale trailed off, seeing the blank look on Jackson's hood. Something wasn't right.

"She left..." he repeated, trying to make sense of everything. She was leaving the Series? Was she a fool?

"Well, she left almost an hour ago, so will that be all?" the Camaro said, her old woman posh accent quickly turning to a fit of coughs as she breathed in the exhaust of screeching tires, Jackson Storm speeding out of the lobby suddenly. Gale watched the race car zoom out, the roaring of his electric engine echoing down the road and halls of the hotel. Some cars looked on, speechless.

Storm didn't think twice, he sped through the traffic. Gale wouldn't be fast enough, and the nearest airport wasn't far, Melise wasn't getting on that plane.

"Who does she think she is?" Jackson remarked, he watched a lone plane flying above the freeway as he drove down, "she better not be on that plane."

The airport shops were always a good discount, she could load her carry on with sweets for herself, and perfumes for her mother. Melise caught sight of some Jackson Storm and IGNTR inspired souvenirs. The racers was sporting a friendly smile on the merchandise cardboard cut out. Melise studied it for a moment, he looked pleased, his teeth pearly white as his black paint glimmered. She couldn't help but feel annoyed. He was fooling everyone... her grandpa, with is fake sportsmanship. She shook her hood in dismay, making a U-turn back to the terminal.

Her mother would be awestruck about the news, she wasn't going to let any news escape. As far as Melise was concerned, there was no relationship, and she didn't want to be around Storm any longer.

"Figured I'd find you alone, weirdos usually are."

Melise froze, she felt her hood heating up, and her circuits begin to freeze over. She could see the glow of neon blue decals in her peripheral vision. She turned, her hood full of rosy blush, eyes starry.

It was Jackson Storm. His expression seemed to relax further from his usual cool grey eyes, to viewing a once over of her, the corner of his mouth curling to a half smile. He wasn't breaking a sweat.

"Hey," he said, tone relaxed and calm. Melise stared back.

"… Hi" she murmured, keeping a distance. Fearful of the events repeating. Most cars passed without a second glance of the two.

Storm breathed a sigh, closing his eyes, "look, I know things went over the deep end last night; I got pissed, said some things I shouldn't have to you."

Melise's eyes widened, was he actually being kind? It felt like ages.

"So here, you don't know what it's like getting through airport terminals when you're not on a flight. Melise, I'm sorry."

He sounded sincere. Melise was surprised, not only for his sudden appearance, but for the apology. He even said her name for the first time.

Her features softened, and Melise looked down, she didn't seem ready to accept his apology, almost conflicted. She wasn't expecting this.

"Um…"

"I mean it, I'm sorry for yelling, for saying you look like a— what was it? Garbage truck, yeah as if," he said, seeing her hesitate. The last time he had this much pressure on someone's reaction was when he was just a trainee racer at the academy.

The P.A system announced flights were boarding passengers, and Melise watched crowds of vehicles approaching the gate. She felt a cold rush again, this was it, and now, she wasn't so sure she wanted to leave.

"I didn't spread anything about you to the media," Melise said suddenly, gauging Jackson's reaction, he stared her down with his usual cool expression.

"I wasn't expecting it to happen, last night, I meant."

"Neither was I, but we can forget about that," he glanced to her fender, seeing she looked better than he last saw her. No busted bonnet, her headlight was bandaged, better than he could do it. She looked pale, and her voice sounded tired.

"Why are you leaving?"

"I have to. I have no—"

"Why?" he repeated, giving her a confused expression. Why was she running away? Was the press really that scary for common cars? She didn't look that bad.

"...I resigned from my job," she said, almost a murmur, shame on her hood. Jackson's eyes widened for the first time.

"So you're leaving?" he said in a harsh confirming tone, Melise shot him a dumbfounded expression.

"I have to, I can't work with a broken headlight. No more oil running, no more hotels and no autograph from Darrell Cartrip." He gave her a face at the random mention of the commentator.

"No more of anything, I'm going home." Her voice became gentler as she finished.

Jackson looked defeated, Melise knew he wouldn't admit it. Why would he care if she left? She wasn't his crew chief.

"Jackson," he glanced to her, briefly focussing on her left fender, his stupid signature was still there. Maybe it was hope. "I have to go now..."

He didn't say anything, he just watched her, an expression she couldn't much read on his front. He looked... Angry? Sad?

Melise went to the gate, looking back a few times, seeing the racer still staring on, his expression becoming a faraway look, he almost looked like he wanted to say something.

Melise felt a stand still of dispair in her system. He came all this way, and he looked so lost now. She felt bad, but what else could she do? She had to leave.

With a glance around, Melise saw no cameras, she left her spot in line, and rolled over, a gentle smile on her fenders. His expression became a look of confusion as she returned.

"Forget something?" he asked, his tone seeming to return to its usual cool nature.

She didn't answer as she went to his side, his grey eyes following her suspiciously.

Melise nuzzled against Jackson, her right fender pressed gently against him, soon her entire cab. He didn't even jump despite not expecting it. She inhaled his scent, feeling the warmth of his engine.

"Promise me you won't be jackass?" she said suddenly, innocently. He could feel her words on his side.

After a moment, she reversed away, giving him a quick nervous smile as she headed back to the gate. He looked like he was in a world of confusion. He stared back, his teeth showing just slightly through his arched mouth.

'huh...' Storm watched the last of her back bumper heading into the airplane gate, he felt slightly sick. He could almost still feel the pillow-like softness of her fibreglass against him. She was truly pushing her luck.

"Hey, Mister Jackson Storm?"

Jackson turned to see three young teenagers, their eyes seemed to light up as he acknowledged them blindly.

"Can we get your autograph on our fenders?" one said, a braces filled grin on his mouth.

"Uh... yeah... sure..."

Melise wasn't getting away that easily.

Random question, but do you think cars cologne is like air freshener for the vents in the car? So many questions for Pixar...