He could feel her eyes glaze over him as he accelerated from the elevator to the skyline floor— his floor. He was tense and weary, the horrid sound of his wife's screeching complaints still reverbing through his cab.
Without looking, he breathed a sigh through his teeth, "I said seeing you makes my morning greater, right?"
Reyna's eyes scanned over Edison Turo, she smirked.
"You always do, honey. Stressed out again today?"
She watched him approach, her circuits getting warmer as her sensual stare remained locked.
"Anything to get by the damn day," he whispered, nuzzling her fender and pressing gentle kisses to her side.
"Eddie!" Reyna giggled as she reversed away, "you're still married to her."
The Hummer's eyes looked his assistant up and down, "she'll be gone soon enough."
Reyna chewed her bottom lip seductively as her boss moved in closer. Her grille was getting warmer by the second...
A chime from the ramp-way entrance tensed the atmosphere in the room. Edison quickly pushed Reyna with his tire to the side, adjusting himself professionally to stand tall on his axles. The BMW's eyes narrowed as she watched the moment pass over. She hated interruption, especially when the two were alone together.
It was back to business.
"Melise!" Turo sung as the convertible's soft smile appeared in the doorway, "good morning, my star model!"
Reyna waved a tire 'hello' with a sweet smile. She noticed the Honda's weight pulling four hefty lightyear tires on her rims.
She had likely put the tires on herself. Reyna had a fond heart for proactive youngsters.
"I take you've come here to hear the good news—"
"A surprise!?" Melise nearly squeaked, interrupting the businesscar. Her excitement was steadfast.
Edison exchanged an amused glance with his assistant, Melise was too adorable.
"I've told you we are happy," Turo explained, gauging the convertible's reaction.
"IGNTR is happy; we are all so pleased with your dedication. I'M pleased with your work."
Melise's brown eyes were starry and eager as she stared at the Hummer, impatiently awaiting his announcement.
"You're going on your first runway show," Reyna spoke calmly, finishing the sentence.
"Hosted by a branch of Rolling Tires magazine."
Rolling Tires? THE Rolling Tires reowned magazine? Mister Turo watched as the convertible's joy seemingly turned to some sort of stiffness.
She blinked a few times, "You're giving this grand opportunity, to ME!?" he watched as her excitement blossomed back as she exchanged glances with the two.
"Yes! You've made us proud, we sent your shots to each and everyone on our team!" Turo spoke, a bright white smile on his grille. His joy was in each creased grin of his metal.
Her eyes remained twinkled, "A fashion show!?"
"Mhm," Reyna answered, "tomorrow, in Miami."
The convertible seemed lost for words or action as she looked between the two, "in Miami!? Tomorrow!?"
"Relax, Hun' we have the whole trip prepared and booked for you," Reyna smiled, reversing to her desk on the far end. She could tell the new girl hadn't lived the high life before.
"Reyna is right, we have all covered for you," Edison spoke, "you just have to be ready by 4PM today, keep your A-game on."
Melise was speechless as Mister Turo escorted four forklifts to his aide. Her eyes wandered the room around her. Element Sleek Rims trademarks adorned twin pillars in the center, collections of rims, lugnuts, and tires
remained glass encased along the walls. Some models dating as far back as the fourties. This was her new life, no more oil. It was only then her thoughts cleared, revealing the reality in front of her.
LEAVING TONIGHT?
She sucked in a breath, biting her lip in a mixture of excitement and anxiousness. This was her earning, this was her prize.
With the gesture of his tire, Edison caught Melise's eyes, and she turned quickly to the large laminated print displayed for her. Glossy and catching rays of stray sunlight. The image— her, a mature and elegant convertible in mauve, decorated to a contrast in her original appearance. The woman on the large poster, confident, fearless and victorious. It was all her. It was what she could do, who she could be.
The Hummer drove around to see the shots again for himself, "I think you look good in purple," he said nonchalantly.
Her eyes scanned the image, detail on detail. She couldn't believe her eyes, no one would recognize it was her. No one would know the shy car behind her confidence. She had lost everything exciting merely weeks ago, but now the odds were in her favor.
Melise turned on her tires, hardly breaking a sweat as she lunged the heavy gear, "I'M GOING TO MIAMI!" she hollered aloud, a wide opened smile tugging her fenders. Mister Turo watched with a hearty grin as Melise bounced on her shocks round and round in glee.
"Oh Chrysler! I better get packing!"
"By four o' clock," Turo repeated, watching the convertible speed into the elevator as the forklifts departed, leaving the poster attached to a large display, "We'll have an escort for you right here."
"Thank you, again," Melise composed herself, her voice becoming soft again, still brewing with excitement.
"Hard work pays off, always." Turo said, "I couldn't be more proud of you, Melise."
Her eyes seemed to not find any words. A silent growing smile followed by a series of rapid nervous blinks gave the CEO all the understanding he needed as the lift chimed, closing the doors.
He breathed a proud sigh, staring at the closed elevator. Melise was a different one, much unlike the other employees or show cars he'd worked with. Her personality, the little quips he could pick out during their small interactions. The way she stared with her doe eyes like an impressionable teenager, but spoke with a softness that resonated acceptance and hope to the world around her. Her habit of looking down in nervousness, the way her fenders got red. She was so ordinary yet enthralling— her refining was up and down, but diligence profound.
What truly caught the businesscar was her innocence. She was an adult with such purity that was painfully obvious. Sure, a Hummer was big beside any coupe, but beside a convertible? Turo felt like an eighteen wheeler. The girl, the nature. The novelty... the sales.
Edison still couldn't agree with IGNTR's choice to cover her peach paint. It's youthful vibrancy was grand for Element Sleek Rims. He could easily remember how striking it appeared in her timely shenanigans with their race car when she was only a lowly staff member in the Racing Series. The image of her laying flat on her undercarriage surrounded by invading cameras was severely unflattering compared to the shots of the two under a gazebo. Reyna was sure— along with some others— that the two shared a kiss. It was out-of-character to Edison, he knew his she wasn't wasting her time with IGNTR's fiery race car, especially after the tension grew between the sponsor's reputation and racing officials. He was out of her league to say the least— she had to know it.
The reputation, the reputation. IGNTR wanted to cater to millennials, no doubt. They also wanted to try something new, sell rims... and make things right. The plate was filled with good fortune on their end.
He could hear her engine getting closer. Her grille graze his side.
"Mmm, where were we?" Reyna whispered as he turned, to face her, a smirk on his grille.
"Just getting started," Edison said, locking his lips against hers. If budget wasn't met today, spending time with Reyna was the next highlight he looked forward to.
The Accord's bright smile kept the atmosphere blossoming. Tables weren't all full, but the cars were lively. Her brown eyes scanned the room as her customers pushed their oil cans aside, a cue from the purple Honda's growing grin as she turned her cab from the approaching car outside the window.
"She's coming," Vanda whispered loudly, "Shh!"
The cafe became a quiet parking lot as the convertible pushed the door open with her gentle tire.
"SURPRISE!"
Melise's chassis jumped in shock as her wide eyes scanned her mother's cafe. Cars left and right congratulated her. The convertible's confusion remained until the crowd dispersed, revealing her mother polishing a large portrait beside her grandfather— the familiar ESL cursive in the corner of the her recent photo shoot. There she was again, sensual and confident, hung in the cafe for all prying eyes to see.
Vanda squealed as she embraced her daughter, "You look stunning, Hon!" Melise could hardly hear her amongst the chatter of patrons.
The convertible's eyes gave away her humiliation, "Mom, please... "
"Whaat!? It's so cute!" Vanda giggled, giving the poster another once over.
"I'm not a child, I don't need my achievements framed for all to see," Melise stated, her tone steady.
Vanda accelerated, quickly turning to face her daughter's tier statement, a look of confusion on her hood.
Melise had a look of shame on her front, and if Vanda wasn't more keen of her daughter, she wanted to tell her something.
"Is something wrong?" the elderly Honda approached the pair of his family. Customers soon tuned back to their own tables, back to their chatter in unison.
Melise drove her way to the cafe's staff room, holding the swiveling door open for her family, "I have news to tell you," she said calmly, her eyes adverting between her mother and grandfather.
His eyes turned to see Vanda already after her daughter, driving her way inside— true to her motherly nature. He followed the pair into the quiet room.
Melise wasted little time turning on her Lightyear tires, a slight grimace as the weight made her axles sore.
"I know you're proud of me, Mom," her soft eyes twinkled as Vanda returned a worried half smile despite her nervousness.
"I know you both always encouraged me," she continued, exchanging glances with the two, "but I'm not a little girl anymore, I'm not a child any longer."
Vanda's cab seemed to slump in melancholy as her daughter's speech raced through her circuits. Thoughts raced through her mind as Melise continued to speak.
"... I... haven't been for some time—"
"OH CRYSLER!" Vanda suddenly hollered, scaring Melise.
"I should've known! I have a granddaughter coming!"
Melise's eyes widened at her mother's abhorrent thought. A baby!? She thought the news was pregnancy!?
"Mom!? NO!"
"Vanda calm down! Let's let Wynter finish," her grandfather hushed. Melise couldn't tell if he had a clue of what she was going to announce, and for better reason under her mother's silly meltdown, she spoke above both of them, assertive and clear.
"I am leaving for Miami tonight."
Vanda's whines were quickly hushed. Did Melise say Miami?
"Tonight!?" the elderly car repeated, surprise in his voice.
"You just got back from Tennessee... that was..."
"Four weeks ago," Melise answered, "a month ago."
Vanda's eyes searched for answers. She couldn't have heard her right, "now you're leaving again!?"
"Yes," Melise said rolling forward slowly. "I've worked tirelessly with my new job, and now I'm... levelling up you could say."
The two watched as the convertible twiddled with her tires. A smile spread across her grandfather's grille as he approached his granddaughter, his eyes bright and warm.
"I'm rooting for you, Wynter, always have," he turned to see his daughter's eyes filled with worry as she watched the two, Melise giving her mother a loving smile.
"She's all grown up, Vanda."
The words seemed to hit her head-on. Vanda's eyes stared, but her mouth opened and closed— speaking and fathoming. Melise was no little 'Wynter' with a bow on her roof. Idling before her, her own, her brown eyes full of life and wonder— but her place, her ambitions, her life, still up the incline.
Vanda had her cafe, her success, her fortune, her family.
What did Melise have? For a second, the Accord pondered the reality with sheer precision— akin to a semi truck headed down a steep mountain with a heavy tow.
Her daughter was injured, fired, then alone— again. Her excitement, the joy when the Piston Cup Series sent her the letter— she must've been a child then, no, child-like glory. She was estatic to have some sort of job as loyal and busy working with oil. She had these unfathomable spikes of determination when she settled in place.
Vanda knew. It wasn't just child-like exuberance, it was substance. Melise found herself substance working with the Series, and it was taken away.
But now...
Her eyes settled on Melise, giving her grandfather a comforting embrace with her tires as he wished her luck. She was confident, a warm smile on her youthful front, a resonation of maturity and strive. Even if it wasn't for the long run, the ability to try— to assert one's self, to be strong enough.
"Melise," Vanda called, watching her cab follow her eyes towards her. Her front became stoic and listening, the decision already made.
"We'll be rooting for you," Vanda said genuinely, a smile spreading across her fenders, "just one thing, honey,"
Melise cab cocked to the side ever so slightly, "Yes?"
"Please, PLEASE, try to get me an autograph from Darrell Cartrip if you see him."
The sun was bright through the wide panel windows as the late afternoon arrived.
Melise hauled her luggage in tow, her excitement vibrating in her shocks, as she pulled into the ESL building she'd grown familiar of.
The skittish chatter of a male voice conversing with a woman- Melise could see the silhouette of the Hummer and his BMW behind the adjacent and smaller office room. Reyna's office.
The two were nearly bumper to bumper. For a moment, the young convertible's eyes squinted, her suspicion rising to the surface.
"Miss Ruunes!"
She turned quickly, finding the man she hoped to never see again. The golden Bentley, his high and mighty voice, his overdramatic appearance down to his personality.
Melise pursed her lips, it was Jonah-Dawn. Mr. Fashion expert, what was he doing here?
"Did I ever tell you how lovely you look in your natural coat of polish?" his voice was confident, praising... fake, maybe even sarcastic.
Melise's eyes watched the mentor stare her up and down the same demeaning way merely a week ago. His eyes seemed to tell a different tale, and for a moment, she couldn't tell if his pleasing expression was forced or genuine.
"You told me it was plain, ugly even," her soft dismissive voice answered, true to her words.
Jonah shot her a reproachful look, "Noooo waaay," he extrapolated, his eyes widening in surprise. "You know I didn't truly mean those things."
Her cab shifted, she gave him a side-ways look, a futile attempt to seem confused rather than annoyed. Melise had risen, she had poked though the velvet, and now he wanted to be kind?
"Why are you here?" her calm and rather gentle voice came after a moment of silence, a second of composure.
An approaching engine answered, "He's going with you."
Melise's eyes widened. No way.
"Going... with me?" her voice was small as she looked up to Edison, arriving late with a flushed Reyna on his tail.
"Yes, yes," the Hummer hushed Melise away from the cars, escorting her to the side. He could see the surprise and evasiveness on her hood. He wasn't surprised himself.
"I know you want to be big, explore on your own, but you need protection out there, Melise." He exchanged a friendly glance with the Bentley in the distance, his posh smirk causing Melise to grimace silently to herself.
But Mr. Turo was right. She was no world-class supermodel, still just a growing amateur, she didn't have big rigs to haul her, or bodyguards to protect her. Jonah, the insufferable melodramatic sportscar was all to guard her expense.
She swallowed her pride. This was another opportunity, if she could deal with her former coworkers, she could deal with a pushy 'mentor' too.
"Alright," she answered, breathing a small sigh. Melise could feel the excitement revving back in, she had to push through, just like the first few days on the job. Jonah's high maintenance wasn't going to ruin this trip.
"That's the spirit, kiddo," Turo grinned. She was always trying, he loved it.
"If you run into any problems, call us— me."
Melise noticed Reyna's quick shake of her hood behind him as the CEO realized his revealing wording. Before he could utter another word, the white BMW sped around him giving Melise an encouraging smile.
"We'll- ahem, be here... if you need anything." her eyes glanced between Melise and Jonah arriving beside her, equally baffled by the awkward exchange.
"Thank you," Melise answered, dismissing the air. As far as she knew, it wasn't her business, no matter how strange it was to be romantically with your own boss.
"Well, have a safe trip," Edison waved a tire, "Jonah, her extra rims-"
"Already stored in my luggage, I would never forget those precious things," Jonah cut him off allowing his tire to roll like a yo-yo as his gold rims shimmered with his smirk.
"Good, good," Edison replied, watching the Bentley lead his way outside, his mirror's flexed, glancing back to the convertible's slow cruise towards him.
"Melise,"
Melise turned on her tires, giving the CEO her attention, "Yes?"
He gave her a proud grin, "Game face!" Edison emphasized with his treads spacing out.
She couldn't help but smile. This was it, back in the fast lane, this time, no more cutesy stuff. No more hiding behind the shy smile, no more immaturity.
"Chop chop! Let's goooooo... " Jonah called his voice rising an octave.
She would have to hope for the best.
6:55PM
Soothing white noise of engine vibrations kept passengers relaxed as they remained parked, dosing off for the long journey.
Melise kept her soft eyes peering at the cities below the cloudy window, dismissive of the Bentley beside her on his disruptive phone call started merely minutes ago.
"... Yeah? Well I'm busy right now, so I don't care."
His loud boastful tone echoed the fuselage, other vehicles muttering annoyances to themselves Melise could faintly make out among their whispers.
"Tell them that I would rather stare at my tires all day long instead!"
Melise cringed, her eyelid twitching at the volume of his tone. It wasn't an important call, surely, that wasn't Edison Turo on the other end. It was supposed to be a quiet flight, relaxing even.
She glanced over the sports car, seeing his eyes staring into oblivion as he listened to the muffled tone, ready to open his mouth again.
She barely knew him, but knew his kind all too well. It was all about him wasn't it?
"She's still just an amateur, but she'll get better, and better fashion sense," he did a once over the convertible, his eyes ignorant to her grotesque stare of him.
"Maybe in a few years once she ditches the bland fruity color," Jonah nudged his tire against her door, prompting further annoyance from the convertible.
Melise's eyes narrowed. This was it? Her prize for working hard, more disrespect? She watched Jonah grin wide, continuing his loud conversation about her to someone else, no one who mattered.
She could feel the sting coming back, it pinched her eyes, but she blinked, pinching back. This was it, no more weakness, no more nonsense.
Jonah felt the steady whip to his side, startling him briefly before he turned to see her rosy cheeks, her angry eyes.
"Shut off the phone," Melise spoke low, her voice dominant and clear, "and shut up."
"Excuse me?" his lid raised in confusion as he stared her up and down, surprised she spoke to him in such as harsh manner.
Melise studied him briefly. He didn't seem to understand, liekly used to walking all over his students, "I know you heard me," her soft tone addressed, she turned her eyes back to the window, a pouty look of distaste on her hood.
She could see him lost for words at her side. It didn't take long for Jonah to open his mouth, a protest ready to interject.
"You dare—"
"And we aren't making this into an issue," Melise interrupted, sliding the smart device from his wheel towards her right tire, tucking it safely under her tread. Her voice grew louder, missing it's signature submissive ambience, "Hush your big mouth so the rest of us can fly in peace."
By the time she turned her cab straight, a ping of adrenaline coursed her circuits. She could see the small array of smiles and relief as passengers searched for the heroic voice. Soon enough, twin honks jingled in unisom appraisal on her confident behalf.
Melise blushed, smiling cute as she lowered on her suspension, abnormal to the attention. Jonah narrowed his eyes at the display of cheers around him, sinking on his tires with zipped lips. She had jumped over the line, not a single protégé on his had told him to unequivocally 'shut his big mouth'.
She didn't bother to wait, resuming her thoughts, her axles still stiffened.
What was it again? High suspension, gentle eyes, roll like a river and ignore the world around her.
That was it. Representation, and presentation on the catwalk...
Jonah's cross attitude died down, his confidence was smushed. And who was she? Just another amateur jumping to her first gig with an overdramatic aura surrounding her plain paint job.
His gaze glimpsed to her fender beside him. He knew she liked to play with oil and dirty race cars. She wasn't the talk with that adrenaline-something's big boss, West Gearcab, for no reason. Jonah knew she was involved in some scuffles, bad press. He studied the scribble below her headlight, unable to make out much of the letters from the awkward angle.
His eyes trailed up her cab, watching her soft nonchalant stare of the world outside her window seat. Her cheeks were extra rosy, still beaming from her speech mere minutes ago, but her eyes, relaxed and weary.
She should have considered herself lucky. They could have given her some toiletries job at their main facility in Los Angeles instead of this. Girls had dreams to be the center of attention, spoiled, beautiful and important in front of the cameras. They'd bow down, roll over and fetch for the Jonah-Dawn. He had them wrapped around his hundred karat rims, desperate for fame. They would let him do whatever he wanted...
Miss Rūūnes? She was like a dwarfed kitten with sharp ugly fangs.
Jonah glanced to her eyes, seeing her fast asleep, her soft breathing causing her frame to rise and fall gently under her fluttered closed eyes.
She still had his phone tucked away safely under her right tire. Good thing he wasn't expecting anymore calls in the remaining three hour flight. It gave the Bentley some time to think over the new world order.