Chapter 26: IGNTR's On a Roll

The fading away white noise of a Cessna flying in the distance caused her eyes to flutter open.

Her bedroom was warm and fuzzy, an unusual comfort she knew was brought about on a day off. It's interior sky-blue wallpaper kept the atmosphere exuberant and friendly true to her nature.

Days like this, when the sunight scattered through the sides of the dimming curtains created a cabana-like shading that summoned some form of nostalgia she could remember all too well.

Copper Canyon. The speedway and the hotel. It was like the first morning of oil-running, the first day to see the race cars speed. Melise's engine warmed up from the thought.

She looked up and down at her reflection, seeing her mirrors looked perkier than ever before. Headlights seemingly glowed in blushy beauty surrounded by a warm bright peach fibreglass. Her eyes were puffy from sleeping peacefully through the night, and her shocks were anything but stiff. It was like waking up cured of a sickness, or finally being free.

It felt amazing.

When Melise finally arrived down the corridor towards the kitchen, her lips curled into a warm smile as her grandfather idled quietly beside the radio, snoozing away as 80's tunes played faintly.

He was in his natural paint, a light blue color with black coker tires. No more off-black paint with glowing blue. Just the friendly Honda Z many knew him as.

Melise inched forward on her treads, careful not to stir him. Glancing towards the rounded dinner table, there was no breakfast for him, and she would gladly prepare his favorite hotcakes and omelettes.

"H-uhm..." she turned to face her grandfather as he opened his eyes to the smell of sizzling eggs. "ah, good morning, Wynter."

Blush rose to her cheeks as she heard the nickname of her childhood again. "G'morning, Grandpa. Did you sleep well?"

"Sleep?" he questioned, "I was asleep?"

Melise grinned, amused, "Yes, you were. Good morning!" her voice rose an octave, accenting a sing-song tone.

He chuckled as she turned back to the stovetop, "Mom's at the cafe, she really danced her way out of the house earlier."

The convertible giggled sweetly, "That's so awesome. She actually danced?"

"Yup," he said, grinning from the memory. "She was as happy as you are right now."

Melise's smile remained as she remembered it was her first day off from working with Element Sleek Rims. The thought of going back to cold studio wearing uncomfortable merchandise almost made the happy atmosphere fade. Nearly. She hummed a few minutes longer as she finished off the last of the batter in the saucer.

"Not working today?" he asked as he stared delightfully down on his pancakes and eggs. Melise pushed a warm quart of caffeinated oil towards him.

"No, I finally have a day off." She answered, parking herself across from him with her own breakfast. "I think it was six days straight of work."

"And fourteen hours each," her grandfather replied. Melise's eyes widened at the realization. It must've been why she slept so soundly last night.

There was a brief silence as he sipped his warm oil, and Melise thought through the days she missed. The mornings serving her family breakfast, taking a cruise around the beautiful rural landscape, or spending time at the cafe.

"Melise," she looked over the table to meet his caring eyes. "I know you don't like this new job of yours."

She hung her hood down, drinking her tea, "Yes, Grandpa. You're right." she murmured.

"Let's talk about that."

Gale thumped her tire impatiently against the asphalt of the stadium lot. Buy N' Large must've cashed in a hefty profit from the sizeable stadium. The bright red and blue colors made it seem fun, festive even to onlookers.

She glanced back to the trailer, watching the forklifts inspect, before the back right tire suddenly deflated, hatching the haul awkwardly to one side. A hefty sigh escaped her mouth. Routine checks would be starting over now with the new problem.

"Good morning, Gale," Ray approached, watching the trailer's flat tire. "Everything's in good condition?"

"Oh yeah," Gale smiled. "The tire just went flat. That's all."

He stared a minute longer in concern before speaking, "Well, all is set for his off-week."

"Oh gosh, I can finally get my paint and rims polished," Gale replied gleefully as she outstretched her tire, studying the grime and dried mud spects engraved inside her rims. The shine of the sleek black color seeped in only faintly behind minor wear and tear.

Ray's eyes searched the setting, "Where's Storm? I'd figure he would be ready to bolt out of here when he got the chance."

Gale shrugged her tires as Ray turned to her, "I haven't seen him since yesterday. I thought he was sleeping in."

"It's always either the simulator or he's in his trailer. There never seems to be an in between with him." Ray sighed, "I checked his suite, he's not there. I checked the simulator facilty— he's not there either."

"Not in the trailer either," Gale replied, thinking over his whereabouts, "hey, maybe Jack is with some fans!" she smiled, at the image of Storm flashing his smile with common cars.

"The odds of that are even lower," Ray replied as he watched three cars passing by from the back bay of the motel. Their fenders were autographed in grey ink. He drove off, eyes wandering and navigating his journey.

Shaded roofing kept the scorching sunlight at bay as Ray passed underneath each arch alongside the motel. The further he travelled to the back of the building, the less cars he encountered.

It didn't surprise Ray to see a gardened off pathway. This motel was known for it's valley-like scenery of catering. The field was large and cut to perfection. In it's center, the 'Buy N' Large' logo tattoed the grass like a college football team. Trees lined the edges, and if Ray could make out the figure of a livery black car in the distance, he could be precise that it was Jackson.

'In a field? Relaxing?' Ray pondered the thought a moment longer as he arrived next to the tree Jackson had parked himself under. The race car's eyes remained closed as the noise of compacted soil crumpling under the pick-up truck's tires neared.

"If you want your fender signed, that's alright with me. Nowhere else." Jackson's candid statement cut the air.

"It's me, Storm," Ray answered, simply. Jackson opened his eyes half-way, looking over his crew chief before closing them again.

"Morning," he replied.

"Trailer's nearly ready," Ray said, looking about the scenery, "Off-week is here now Jackson."

"That's why I'm starting early," he stated, blinking slowly.

Ray lined himself up beside Storm, "Spending it being lazy?"

"Why not? I've got ten wins under my roof."

Ray watched him flex out his axles, stretching them briefly before relaxing his chassis into the short cut grass. The chief wouldn't admit it to Jackson, but relaxing quietly in a field seemed beyond him.

Some young fans passed by, awe in their eyes and whispering as they saw the IGNTR racer meters from them. Ray turned to look at them, and they scurried away.

"For good measure, RSN, and cheeky fans are not included." Jackson remarked, ignoring the gawking cars.

"Look, spend the week how you like," Ray cut-in, "Just remember you have a streak going, and IGNTR is going to expect your appearance at their next venues if you intend on keeping your career."

"Yeah... " his voice was monotone, while his eyes were open, focussing on two elderly cars, one white, and the other a bland off-peach color cruising along the trees in the distance of the field.

Ray watched his eyes follow the pair until they were out of sight inside the motel. Storm's expression remained it's usual calm and collected manner.

"Listen, we— the pit crew, Gale, and IGNTR— we're proud of you Jackson." Ray said, gauging his racer's reaction. "You've won more races than any rookie I've trained."

Storm's eyes focussed on Ray, listening.

"Many cars will dwell on your mistakes and forget all your victories for a single hiccup, but all that matters is making the most of yourself on, and off the track."

Ray could see Jackson's eyes scanning the area as he processed the speech. He wasn't much of the sensitive type, but Ray knew all too well that he was still a loner in the racing world.

The pick-up's engine hummed as he reversed from the field.

"And Jack," Ray suddenly spoke again, He could see Storm sraighten himself slightly, "I'm proud of you, now make the other guys too."

Jackson could hear his crew chief's engine fading away as he began relaxing again. His fenders curled into a half-smile as he exhaled, turning his eyes towards two veteran racers passing by in his line of sight.

"That Storm? No kidding, it is!" Jackson hardly recognized the two racers that taunted him during his first race and win of the season. His eyes scanned over them as if they were no more important than a common coupe.

"Hey, man, you're wicked fast on that track!"

A wholehearted laugh from Storm filled their ego, "Thanks," he replied, knowing his worth was far from their own retirement.

The duo watched as he revved his engine, the ground vibrating lightly under their wheels. He drove on, leaving them to their merits of watching him. The usual.

"Remember when you were hired by the Piston Cup a month ago? You know how excited and happy you looked?"

Melise nibbled on a piece of her omelette as he continued, her eyes basted an innocent glow her grandfather knew all too well. She was hearing and listening.

"I was," she answered, a somber tone catching up in her voice, "I didn't even think much about anything else."

Her eyes found themselves wandering the room, watching the sunlight stream through the curtains, the windows, the doorway leading to the backyard. The warm rays on her hubcaps, but the missing excitement of Shannon's giggles, the clear skies, but no race to witness. A warm quart of oil, but no task to serve. An elegant homely structure, but no interesting racer to run into...

She shook the thought away, blinking her lids rapidly. That was then, this is now.

"I know it can be... difficult, finding your place in this world," her grandfather continued, "but if there's one thing you've got, Melise, that's a shred of determination... "

Her eyes were starry as she looked at him, thinking over the long days in the hot sun, the taunts from her fellow employees. She even missed them. But she persevered through much of it, even an injury. She didn't beg, falter, or brake. She did her job, and had fun doing it. If the Series regarded her as troublesome for Storm's image, that was their loss. His loss. Her own for giving up on all of it.

Mister Turo saw something in her, even when she was patched up with gauze.

IGNTR even found some value, as ironic as life was headed.

Why give up? Because of some rather ugly mauve paint? Because of a strict mentor? Because of long hours?

It wasn't like she hadn't done it before.

The vibration and chiming of her quirky ringtone caused her axles to stiffen. It was a private number she could easily guess the owner of.

"How's my favorite model doing today?" Mister Turo's voice came in, chipper all around. Her grandfather listened intently to the conversation.

"Hi there... Eddie, I'm great today." Melise answered, a smile across her fenders. "Is everything alright?"

"Is everything alright? Are you kidding!?" Mr. Turo sparked in glee, "Everything is just spectacular!"

Melise exchanged a look of confusion to her grandfather's smile.

Before she could ask, he continued, "I had Reyna email your shots to IGNTR last night. They absolutely love them!"

"Oh... really!?" the convertible's voice went up a questioning octave.

"They say that you're very beautiful, and angel-like. I couldn't agree more!"

IGNTR really found her that irresistible? She was just a convertible. Wasn't Storm better for the job? Her thoughts raced with amazement.

"In the end, it paid off," The CEO continued, "I want to see you first thing tomorrow morning, I've got a surprise for you, Hun."

The call ended, as her Grandfather congratulated a stunned Melise, "What did I tell 'ya, your hard work always pays off."

"I wonder what the surprise is..." Melise said, lost in thought.

"Maybe a yearly supply of fancy tires— or they're upgrading you to a supermodel in California." her grandfather mused.

She smiled, "Why don't we celebrate with more pancakes?"

By the time the mid morning arrived, Ray had done his head-count for the fifth time. Gale would probably call it 'a waste of time' or 'somewhat over the top', but the chief knew what he was doing. He fell into a routine of maintenance as the supervisor of team 2.0, certain of himself, Ray knew no-one else could handle a racer like Jackson Storm.

He idled himself under the shade of a cabana as Gale stared down her own reflection in the trailer's black smooth exterior, picking out minor flaws that were likely imagined. Quincy and Leon were both parked nearby with the rest of Jackson's pitties, analyzing his flawless simulation data with impressive eyes.

Ray instructed that no one was to leave until Jackson arrived with the A-OK to set off. Now, Ray wished he kept that particular honor for himself, as he had his team waiting for some time.

'He can't still be in that field... no way.' Ray thought, watching Gale shift her weight, posing with her lips puckered for her reflection. 'Next time, he's back on our schedule, not his own.'

His eyes turned as Gale's front lit up in excitement, turning to face the arriving car behind her.

"Hey team," Jackson said, scanning his eyes around as he passed, parking himself next to the trailer's door.

His pitties greeted him in unison as Gale smiled.

His tire pushed the hatch button, and the ramp began rolling down, "All's good?" Storm asked Ray, noting his slightly nettled expression. "Hey, I'll buy you a late coffee, how's that sound, Gus?"

Ray sighed, watching the crew pack up and prepare for departure. All the other teams left nearly two hours ago. Jackson was on break as of now, but that didn't mean slacking off was a new resort. Paperwork and simulator maintenance was necessary after each race. Time was ticking.

"That's fine, Jackson." He replied, heading towards the trailer as Storm reversed with top precision inside..

"So... where am I headed to?" Gale asked adjusting her mirrors to face Ray, lined up behind the trailer in her tow.

"IGNTR. The facility." Jackson chimed in.

"Aw, I was hoping you'd say a beach house in Florida," Gale pouted as Jackson's mouth curled into a smile she couldn't see.

"We'll be there soon enough," Ray answered, "Drive safe. And Jackson," the racer's eyes turned his crew chief in front of him.

"Take it easy."

Ray was glad enough for the indistinct look on Jackson's hood to change into his usual cool state of expression.

He knew exactly what his chief meant, even if he said nothing.

Ray watched her leave the lot for the numerous time. If he wasn't there, Gale was, thankfully. Things were easier with Jackson, he kept to his own naturally, but there was still a level of uncertainty Ray was unsure of. Interacting with fans was one thing, they'd let him run them over like a red carpet, but other racers was another story the chief wasn't sure Jackson was ready for.

He was full of surprises sometimes.

"So... Ray left some stuff from the sponsors and other stuff like juice in your trailer," Gale's voice echoed inside the trailer's speaker system.

"I noticed," Jackson said, eyeballing the few cans of Liquid Adrenaline along the trailer's wall. If IGNTR was only sending him a few cans now, they must've sold hundreds. A large envelope caught his attention jammed between the grasp of two quarts.

Pulling it loose, the familiar deep blue color told him it was the same old news from IGNTR. Thanks to the glorious Jackson Storm, another win, another thousand of grand for the energy drink.

Storm pulled it open, never turning away the chance to hear more praise. The contents spilled in front of his bumper, and the racer's engine revved once as he reversed to see the laminated, pristine texture sitting on his axle.

The logo didn't look to familar. It was a curvy, exaggerated 'E' with a golden ring orbiting it. His eyes scanned down the strange cover to the image plastered on it, a darkened backlight, with a dark purple or even pink under the dim lighting of his trailer— model. She had a distant look, like a tractor in the headights, but expectant of the nature around her. Her lids must've been smudged with an even darker color, as odious as it could get.

His eyes scanned over the vehicle, her frame was small, and her lips were an annoying pout amplified by software or make-up. Her big brown eyes told a story he had read before, and his eyes narrowed.

All the glory, all the sales, all the wins... HIS wins, for this.

He took his eyes off the poster, ignoring the slogan underneath it.

There was a letter from IGNTR underneath, static clung to the professional poster's material.

His mind felt empty or even muddled as his grey eyes scanned over the sentences.

'As forward with our ongoing mission to begin our sales through our new partner Element Sleek Rims, we give our wholehearted gratitude to you, Mister Storm, for your continued success.'

They had to be joking. Selling rims? He took another begrudging glance at the poster of Peaches, seeing a knock-off glowing pink rim that tried to match his own. Everything in the photo looked wrong, especially her.

Jackson didn't bother. He pushed the sheets back where they were found. His mouth twisted into a straight line, and his eyes blinked to his usual calm disposition.

He was not expecting this.