"And it is such an honor to be your agent that it almost kills me to take ten percent of your winnings, merchandising, and ancillary rights in perpetuity. Anyway…"
~ Harv, "Cars."
Hardly a week had passed since the big tie-breaker race when Doc happened upon the strange mess. Every type of clothing lay strewn across the guest room—now the kid's room—in a jumbled mess of piles, piles, and more piles.
Leaning against the doorframe, Doc surveyed the room a second time before his gaze landed on the kid.
"What exploded in here?"
Lightning glanced up, took a look around the room, then shrugged as he went back to his packing.
His packing.
Doc didn't like the way his heart skipped a beat. Of course, the rookie could do whatever he wanted—and Doc didn't want to jump to any conclusions—but it sure as heck looked like the kid was packing up and taking off.
Hadn't he just been telling Doc how excited he was to have him as a crew chief? And whatever happened to setting up his racing headquarters here?
There had to be a logical explanation, so Doc kept his tone casual.
"You just moved in. Don't tell me all the work we did organizing this room was for nothing."
"Oh, I'm not moving out." Lightning flashed him an almost knowing grin. "I'll just be gone for a few weeks. You know, interviews and TV and stuff."
"Ah." Doc nodded. Right. "I have to admit, I'd forgotten about all that. It's been so long." He let out a chuckle. "And drivers didn't have to do nearly as much back then as you kids do now, with the media and all that."
"Come on, Doc, you had to have at least some publicity to deal with."
He watched as the kid tossed a tangle of chargers and headphones into the bag. "Most of the time, we just drove."
"Yeah," Lightning said with a chuckle of his own. "It's cool to be on TV, though. We're gonna film a new commercial, I think, which is good because I'm getting so tired of the old one."
"Do you need a lift to the airport?" Seeing as Lightning didn't have a car of his own—and the #95 racecar didn't count—Doc figured he'd offer. Come to think of it, the kid didn't seem to have very much.
Sure, he had numerous sets of clothing and an unholy amount of collectibles of all sorts—and more junk than a garage sale—but when it came to the practical things, the necessities most people take for granted, Doc found the kid severely lacking.
A car, a house, etc… If there was a family out there somewhere, Lightning never mentioned them. It was obvious the kid lacked a solid set of roots, but Doc found it hard to believe he simply hung out in his trailer during the long stretches in between each race.
Lightning shook his head. "Thanks, but Mack's driving me in the trailer for the first half, then I'll fly to Florida later on. Maybe. I'm really not sure…" He shrugged, tossing another shirt into the already overflowing case. "We might just drive the whole way. Who knows?"
Doc nodded. "When are you headed out?"
The kid checked his watch. "In, like, three hours or so."
"Well, thanks for the heads up."
He'd been going for a bit of sarcastic humor, but perhaps he'd laid the sarcasm on a little too thick because Lightning turned to him then, guilt clouding his face.
"Sorry, I, uh… Well, I guess I'm still trying to get used to the fact that it's not just me anymore, you know?"
"You're okay, Hot Rod. I was just messing with you."
Lightning gave him a smile, and shortly after that, Doc left him to his packing.
Three hours flew by faster than Doc would've expected. Usually, time tended to drag in Radiator Springs. Since the kid had arrived, life seemed to be moving at the speed of light. Faster than that, even.
When Lightning emerged from his room, he was trying to juggle a suitcase, a duffle bag, a backpack, and a phone. The kid had been on the phone for the last hour, putting the finishing touches on his packing with it smashed to his cheek.
"Uh-huh… Yep… Got it."
The short answers revealed nothing about the call or the caller itself, but Doc figured it had something to do with his impromptu departure.
"Yeah… Yeah, no, yeah, totally… No, yeah…" Mouthing his thanks, the rookie let Doc take the suitcase and duffle off his hands. "Yeah, I literally just finished… What? Oh… Oh, yeah, sure, I—"
With a roll of his eyes, the kid snapped his mouth shut, letting the caller have his say.
"Yeah, I'm going, just, can you hold on a second? I want to say—" A hesitant, blue gaze drifted toward Doc, and Lightning seemed to be doing his best to silence the caller—at least for a moment. "What? No, I… Yeah, of course."
Instead of saying goodbye, as he looked like he wanted to do—and if Doc was being honest, a goodbye would've been nice—the kid offered Doc a smile and joined his luggage.
"Yeah, I'll tell him. Hold on…"
Halfway out the door, Lightning glanced back at him, another hesitant smile stretching his face. "Oh, so, uh, my agent wants to know if you could, uh, meet us in Daytona for an interview next week. He'll make all the arrangements for you to fly down," the kid quickly added before Doc could get a word out. "And it won't cost you a cent!"
The smile that caught his own face was unexpected, but felt good nonetheless. "Sure, rookie. I'll be there."
Hesitance turned to relief and the kid's smile widened. "Thanks, Doc." Not a second later, his attention shifted back to the call. "Yeah… Yeah, I just talked to him. He's coming… Yes! I'm already out the door and on my way to the trailer… Yes, of course… Sure…"
Lightning mouthed a goodbye and Doc got a quick wave in before the door shut, its light slam ushering in a still silence.
Until then, Doc had forgotten what it was like to have complete silence.
And he wasn't sure he liked it anymore—not the way he used to.
So, the kid was gone. He'll be back.
Doc knew he'd be back. And he had things to do in the meantime. It wasn't as though he couldn't live without the kid. What he does is his business. He has his work and you have yours.
He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't care. Quite the opposite. Over the course of the next few days, Doc found himself tuning into different sports and news stations on both the television and radio, listening for the kid's voice.
Silently hoping he was doing all right.
Don't get attached. That's the warning he'd given himself when this whole thing started. When he'd hopped in the Hornet and driven off to Los Angeles to help Lightning get his head in the game.
Don't get attached…
Oh, we're so far removed from that notion now.
Now, he found himself actually missing the kid. He missed the energy Lightning brought to the town, and he could tell the rest of Radiator Springs missed him, too.
The flight down to Florida couldn't come soon enough. It wasn't until he stepped off the plane that he realized he'd missed the kid before Lightning had even left the house.
Mack picked him up and it was nice to see a familiar face.
"Lightning said you'd probably prefer the trailer to a hotel," the friendly trucker said as they drove along.
Doc waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I wouldn't want to take up space."
"He told me you might say that," Mack replied with a grin. "He also told me to insist you stay in the trailer."
"A hotel will be fine."
"If you said that," Mack went on, and Doc couldn't help but find the conversation amusing, "Lightning told me to remind you that you made an offhand comment a few days ago about hotels being too loud and too busy, and that you never know who your next door neighbor is going to be. Plus, he has a room all ready for you."
Doc couldn't stop the chuckle in time. "All right. I'll check out the trailer first. Might save on expenses anyway."
The remainder of the drive consisted of small talk and Mack catching Doc up on the kid's recent activities.
"I don't know how he does it," the trucker marveled, leading Doc into the trailer. "Must've had three interviews in one day—in three different cities, too! Can you believe that? But he's used to it, I guess."
"Where's the kid now?" Doc asked as he took in the sight of Lightning's luxurious trailer. He couldn't recall ever seeing a motorhome so large and so… expensive looking. How Rusteze managed to swing something like this was beyond his comprehension.
Mack shrugged. "Probably catching some Zs before the next interview. I think he even did one with the King, or maybe that one's coming up… I can never keep them all straight. All I know is that the kid had always been busy after races in the past, but after that tie-breaker race…" After a shake of his head, Mack adjusted his cap.
As if on cue, Lightning appeared from a room down the hall, phone pressed to his ear. For a fleeting moment, Doc wondered if he'd even put the thing down since leaving town last week.
"I honestly couldn't have done it without the guys at Rusteze. If they hadn't picked me up, we wouldn't be talking about that race right now…" The second Lightning's eyes found Doc, they brightened. Waving a quick hello, the kid's brows furrowed, concentrating back on his caller.
"Ah," Mack whispered, "phone interview. Had a couple of those earlier today."
"Actually," Lightning said, and Doc wasn't sure he liked the mischievous twinkle in those blue eyes, "that's a great question for my Crew Chief. He literally just walked in; I'll put him on."
The kid mouthed a quick sorry as he shoved the phone at Doc. With no choice but to take the call, he flashed Lightning a half-hearted glare, who simply smiled and shrugged.
Instead of laughing at his childish joke or ditching the situation entirely, the kid collapsed onto the couch, eyes sliding shut.
The radio hosts chirped in his ear and Doc could hardly concentrate on them. His focus was locked on the kid. Mack handed Lightning a water and he chugged half the bottle in one go.
Despite his slight concern and the unexpected situation, Doc found himself enjoying the interview. For the first time in fifty years, he felt the freedom to talk about the crash—to clear the air and tell the story as it happened, not as the media had made everyone believe.
By the time they wrapped things up, Doc's throat cried out for some of the water Lightning was still chugging. He waited until the kid swallowed before handing him the phone.
As Lightning closed out the interview, Doc followed Mack to his room, where he unceremoniously dumped his luggage and labeled it in his mind to be dealt with later.
When they returned to the main room, the kid was off the phone, but his fingers were quickly dialing another number.
"Hi, Doc!" He greeted, tired face beaming. "How was your flight?"
"Uneventful," Doc replied, "which is a good flight in my books."
Another smile. "I don't know. I always think it's more exciting when something happens."
Doc felt the first inklings of a grin tug at his lips. "What kind of something?"
"Once, there was this guy who kept trying to get his machete past security because he claimed it was a gift for his daughter, or something stupid." He glanced at Mack. "Remember that?"
The driver just shook his head, his expression making it clear that yes, how could he ever forget?
"Okay," the kid continued, completely switching gears, "I just have one more of these things and then I can show you around the trailer and fill you in on the interview tomorrow."
Before Doc could even open his mouth to ask what the thing was, exactly, Lightning struck up another telephone conversation.
Another call-in interview, it seemed.
Brows dipped, Doc turned to Mack, keeping his voice low. "How many of these does he usually have?"
Mack blew out an exasperated breath, his eyes never leaving the kid. "Never this many, let me tell you. It's probably because of that last race."
No doubt.
The kid had truly made it big, Doc knew, but until that moment, he hadn't realized how big.
Sometime during his short exchange with Mack, Lightning had disappeared into the back of the trailer, leaving Doc to do…
What?
It wasn't as if he was imposing. He hadn't asked to be there, hadn't begged to come along like an excited child. Lightning's agent had arranged it all. He was supposed to be here.
With that in mind, Doc inquired as to where Lightning kept the water bottles, then settled down on the couch. His legs cried out in relief after a long day of walking around two airports.
Going a different route, Mack cracked open a beer, and when he offered one to Doc, the latter didn't have the willpower to refuse.
"You know," the trucker began, taking a drink and adjusting his cap, "I've always had a soft spot for the kid even when he was at his worst, but I'll tell you what, after he came back from that little town of yours, he was a completely different person. How'd you manage to pull that off? I mean, what did you all do to him down there?"
Doc let out a chuckle. "Nothing much. Just made him fix some property damage."
"Yeah, he told me that much, but it still doesn't add up. I can't figure how fixing a road can change someone like that."
"Sometimes, I still don't understand it myself." Doc took a sip and grinned. There was a lot more at the heart of the matter than busted asphalt and rehabbing a bad attitude, but explaining it all—all the twists and tangles of emotion—would take more time than they had.
And fatigue still clung tightly to Doc, a residual effect from a six hour flight with one layover. Jet lag was also a factor. Despite being exhausted, it was only 5:35 pm to him, not half-past seven. Losing two hours hadn't been thrilling and Doc's stomach called for food hours after the kid and his trucker had no doubt had their dinner.
As if reading his mind, Mack nodded at the clock. "I ordered pizza awhile ago." So, they hadn't eaten yet… "Should be here in a few minutes, if you're hungry."
"Starving," a familiar voice exclaimed, adding himself back into the mix. Doc glanced at Lightning, who tossed his phone on the counter and dropped onto the couch next to Mack, seemingly all in one motion. "And didn't you say a few minutes like a half hour ago?"
Mack shrugged. "Maybe they're busy tonight."
"Maybe they're starving us on purpose," the kid muttered, no real venom behind his words.
For a long moment, Doc watched him deflate. He wouldn't have been surprised if Lightning drifted off right then and there.
Instead, the rookie sucked in a breath and leapt to his feet. "Wanna see the trailer? Mack's probably already showed you your room, but I can show you the rest! I mean, if you want…"
Doc smiled. "Sure, rookie. Lead the way."
"Right, this way first," the kid began, barely keeping from bouncing on his feet. "I would've shown you when you first got here, but I had all those interviews." A sigh. "I don't think I've ever talked so much in my entire life—and that's saying something. I must've told the same story a thousand times. This is the bathroom and there's my room. Everyone wants to know what was going through my head when I stopped like that during the race. In there's just a closet." He went to open it, but shut it quickly as an avalanche of junk could be heard tumbling downward. "Yeah… Just a closet. We don't need to look in there.
"Everyone wants to know how I got to Radiator Springs and why I stayed so long. Some of the tabloids are claiming I was in rehab the whole time. Rehab from what, they don't really know. There's your room again. Mack Usually sleeps in the loft above the driver's seat. Not that I read that junk, I just keep a check on it every so often, you know? Some of the things they've said about me I didn't even know about myself," he finished with a sly grin. "And now we're back where we started, so that's it, I guess!"
If the kid had taken a breath somewhere in that rambling mess, Doc sure didn't hear it. He felt himself heave a sigh, as if he could do all the breathing so Lightning didn't have to.
The three of them had all just sat down again, settling on the booth-like couch around the table when a knock sounded on the door.
Then, Lightning's phone rang.
"I'll get it." The kid's voice blended with Mack's as each went to answer their respective beckonings.
Mack brought in the pizza, no problem, but Doc's focus had drifted to the kid.
Lightning seemed to be waging an internal war with himself as he studied the caller ID. To pick up or not to pick up.
Guess that's the question, isn't it, kid?
In the end, the kid silenced the call, opting to join his trucker on the other end of the counter where the pizza steamed hot and fresh. As Doc made his way over, he glanced down at the buzzing device, catching only a single name in all caps.
HARV.
Huh.
He didn't know anyone by that name, but the kid's business was his own.
And Doc was hungry. Surely the caller would leave a message that they could take care of tomorr—
The kid hadn't even taken a full bite, pizza poised and at the ready, when his phone screamed its irritating little song again. Some pop tune Doc didn't recognize, and quite frankly, didn't care to.
"Oh, come on," Lightning mumbled, abandoning his slice in order to retrieve his phone. He silenced the call once more, only for it to ring again the second he sat back down.
If looks could kill… Well, Doc knew someone would've been lying cold on the floor by now.
"Whatever he has to say can either wait till later," Lightning began, clearly doing his best to keep the irritation at bay, "or can go into voicemail."
Doc managed to keep his voice casual despite his almost overwhelming curiosity. "Who is it?"
With a quick flick of the wrist, Lightning threw the phone down the short hall and into the back bedroom.
"Harv," he explained as he joined the group again. "My agent."
Ah. Right.
Makes sense. In an odd, where'd all my personal space go? sort of way. Of course, he'd never had an agent himself, didn't need one back then, so who's to say all agents weren't this intrusive and persistent?
Give it a rest. The kid just made the headlines. Of course, he's gonna be busy.
Though Lightning began making quick work of his pizza, Doc could almost see the gears turning in his head—the unspoken whispers that were trying to convince him maybe he should've taken the call.
A distraction was definitely in order. Doc cleared his throat. "So, this interview tomorrow…"
"Oh, right. Honestly, I forgot about that."
The kid launched into specifics. Doc tried his best to pay attention, he really did, but those deepening circles under Lightning's eyes kept stealing away his attention.
Despite the relatively early hour, the kid went to bed shortly after dinner.
And if that wasn't out of character, Doc didn't know what was.
Finishing the last of his beer, he nodded toward the bedroom. "He didn't seem this wiped out when he left town."
"Non-stop activity," Mack supplied with a shrug. "Think it's almost over, though. This should be the last TV interview, and they already filmed the commercial." Another shrug, then a grin. "He sure was happy to see you, though."
Doc simply hummed, glancing toward the bedroom, as if staring at it long enough would give him the answers he needed.
"He wouldn't stop talking about you," Mack went on, ambling to the fridge for another beer and a snack. "Maybe tomorrow'll be the last of it and we can all drive home together."
Home.
It was such a nice thought, yet something told Doc is wasn't going to be that easy.
Though he stayed up long after the trucker retired for the night, he swore he could hear the kid's phone buzzing through the paper-thin walls.
Text after text after text…
…Until a loud smack against the wall reverberated through the motorhome.
Honestly, Doc was surprised the phone hadn't broken through the wall and sailed into his own room.
Either the kid had turned the darn thing off or the person on the other end had said all they needed to say.
Good riddance, Doc thought as he rolled onto his side. Maybe now we can get some sleep.
Still… The kid had gone to bed ages ago, leaving Doc to wonder just how long that phone had been trying to get Lightning's attention…
Not for the first time, Doc felt it was a good thing, coming out here to be with the kid, whether he'd initially planned on it or not.
Something told him he needed to be here.