call_me_chas (call_me_chas) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2009-06-18 21:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | car, chas, deacon, npc |
Miami and onwards
With a race of this nature there could be no advertising, no sponsors, no audience. The starting line would have to be well away from unfriendly eyes or the race would be over before it had begun. Consequently the organisers had set up in the enormous parking lot of the Gulfstream Park Racetrack, one area of which they had carefully cordoned off.
Careful they may have been, secret they certainly were, but people had come to see the racers off and a party atmosphere prevailed.
Even Mike Langham, with a barely healed hole in his knee and considerable worry for his daughter in the back of his mind, found himself grinning at his co-driver as a couple of giggling girls teetered by in high heels, long tanned legs lovely to behold.
"Whaddya think, boss," Davis asked, nodding to the opposition.
"I think our chances are good," Mike replied. "The only ones I'm concerned about are those two over there." He pointed to a decked out BMW and a Corvette. "I've heard a few things about them. They could be trouble."
He looked around again and smiled smugly. At least there was no Aston Martin to deal with.
People were beginning to get into their cars, engines beginning to rev, when one last car flew through the gate that was beginning to close just in the nick of time. The black Challenger slowed now that it was safely at the start and crawled through the other cars, engine growling low and deep. Mike looked at it, about to comment on the car when he noticed the driver's side window down and who was behind the wheel.
"Son of a bitch!" Mike exclaimed and Davis leaned over to peer across him and swore.
""That fuckard," Davis growled. "Where'd he get that old monster from? Who's that with him? I was sure his co-driver wouldn't be going anywhere but ER."
Mike shielded his eyes from the sun and peered closer at the co-driver. "Is that Shaw? Ferrell must of called his little twink to come save his ass. Shit. SHIT!"
Okay the car wasn't an Aston Martin but the way that engine growled made Mike nervous.
Davis snickered suddenly. "His twink? You never said he was a fag, boss. Oh this'll be cool." He settled back in his seat with a decisive nod. "Naaah, they won't worry us. They'll have to stop and get their nails done or something."
Mike glared at his co-driver. "Fag or not I've heard enough about Ferrell to know that he's going to be a problem. I can't afford to lose this race, Davis!"
Davis grunted. "Sorry boss," he said and sighed, shifting in his seat.
He was well aware that he was a fool, he had been told often enough, but also knew that his driving was almost as fast as Langhams, and not quite as reckless. Also he knew that while he was useful he wasn't indispensible, and had no interest in spending the rest of the race as a corpse in the trunk. He had no doubts that Langham would kill him should it prove to be convenient.
"We'll get 'em boss," he said. "Bet your life on it."
"More like bet yours," Mike growled and moved his car into position.
Deacon had been speaking to one of the race officials and gotten their little packet of information - telling them where the first checkpoint was. The packet was in a small metal box which was locked. A timer was attached and the lock would come undone at exactly the moment the race started to prevent pre-planning on how to get to the check point before hand. Everything would be happening on the fly.
Deacon moved Car into position and took a slow, deep breath then turned to Charlie.
"Ready, Mouse?"
Charlie was fiddling nervously with the laptop on his lap, zipping from screen to screen double checking for road works and diversions and trying to ignore the feeling he needed the loo. He had been - twice - already. "As I'll ever be," he said. "Give 'em hell, D" and he shot his lover a smile, bright and encouraging and far more confident than he felt.
"You just be ready to open that box and find out where we're goin' the second it unlocks," Deacon said, checked all the gauges on Car, and gave the steering wheel a slow rub. The car purred and you could almost feel it crouch, ready to spring.
There was a crackling sound as a loud speaker came on and a man began to speak above the roar of engines.
"You all have your packets, you all know the rules. Make it to the first check point by midnight tonight. There you'll be given your next packet, be allowed a few hours of sleep, and will be off again. Good luck."
Everyone watched the timer that had been set up continue to count down and the moment it hit zero every car jumped forward and the boxes clicked open.
Slammed back in his seat, Charlie was all too aware that this was the most dangerous moment of the race, as all the drivers flung their cars at a gap that would only admit two abreast. He gritted his teeth, body braced as Car's power hit him in the back and for a moment he forgot all about the box resting on his keyboard. "Go," he whispered, "go, go gogogogogo whoohoo!"
They weren't the first out of the gate but they were very near the front. From there everyone split off, all heading to the main highway that lead north but going by different routes so as not to attract too much attention. They had been threading their way through the traffic for a full five minutes before the little box clicked and the lid lifted slightly.
"Okay, let's see where we're goin'," Deacon said, flashing through a yellow light seconds before it turned red and caught two other racers that were behind them.
"errmmmm," Charlie said looking at the papers. "Pensacola - we're going to Pensacola. You need the FL91." He poked the laptop squinted at the screen and craned his neck to look at the road signs. "Argh, you need a right - yeah next right onto the I-95-N."
A downshift and a quick change of lanes and Deacon took the next right and in a few moments they were on the freeway and heading north. Still in the city he kept his speed to a relatively safe ten miles over the speed limit. Once they were out of the city limits he'd pick it up and take more chances.
And even though the stakes were high - he couldn't help it. He was grinning.
Charlie chewed anxiously at the skin edging his thumb nail as he plotted their route and adjusted the frequency of their radio. So far the police band was quiet but it was probably a bit too much to hope for that it stayed that way.
"Another mile and a half," he said, "then we have to change to the FL91 via - exit 8." he glanced at Deacon to make sure he had heard and saw the grin and couldn't help grinning back.
"You're enjoying this aren't you," he said.
"Maybe just a little," Deacon said, whipping around a slower car. They got onto the FL91 and Deacon settled back for the drive. He kept a close eye on his mirrors, watching for the other racers. No doubt some would be coming soon and he was sure there were probably a few ahead of him. But there was plenty of time.
"C'mon, Mouse. We can't be serious the whole time. Yeah the stakes are high but we gotta have a little fun sometime right?"
"Fun," Charlie said with a tense grin. "Okay - I can do fun. It's just going to take me a little while to get used - WATCH OUT FOR THAT - oh, right. Yeah fun! Exit 8 coming up."
Deacon laughed, easily moving around a car that was changing lanes. "Don't worry, Charlie. If there's one thing I'm good at it's drivin' fast," he said. And the moment they cleared Miami and its suburbs he did pick up the pace.
And once the soccer moms and the tradesman's minivans were out of the way Charlie began to enjoy the trip as well. He leaned back in his seat, kept half an eye and ear on the equipment and divided the rest of his attention between his surroundings, they had installed a couple of extra mirrors so he could keep watch too, and Deacon. Watching Deacon do something he loved was always worth doing.
The first two hundred miles passed quickly.
****
The red Lamborghini raced through traffic, picking up speed as it left cities behind for more rural areas. Unlike Deacon, Mike wasn't having fun. He was too focused on what needed to be done, on his reason for the race, and the consequences if he lost. And at the topmost in his mind was his main competition.
"Pensacola is an overnight stop," he said, zipping past a semi-truck. "We need to find out where Ferrell is staying and disable that car."
Davis shook his head as he read through the papers that had been in the box. "Not sure we'll be able to, boss," he said. "Says here we'll be stayng at a Motel 6. Betcha they made a block booking. I might could bribe the guards? Someone's BOUND to be on the take in a set up like this."
Mike grumbled and nodded. "I want him out early," he said. "Even if we have to shoot out a tire on the highway."
"You get me close enough and I can do that," Davis promised. "Might be easier to shoot him. I could get someone to stake out the motel. There's probably time to get someone in position. Or maybe tomorrow - could put a bullet right through his rad as he lines up. Twenty miles down the road - kerblooey!"
Mike nodded. "Yeah. Yeah we could do that...."
He trailed off, brows furrowed as he started planning the best way to get rid of Ferrell and his little boy toy.
###
The little boy toy blinked and stretched and yawned. "Sorry," he said, "did I doze off? Oh fuck yes! Sorry." He tapped the laptop back to life and gave Deacon an apologetic grin. "Just take it as a compliment that I should be so relaxed. Want a soda?"
"Sure," Deacon said, glancing at the gas gauge. They'd be needing to stop for gas soon, take a quick bathroom break, maybe grab a burger and eat it on the road. They were making good time but he didn't want the stop to last long. The sooner they got to the check point the more time they had to rest and get ready for the next leg.
Charlie twisted round in his seat and popped the top of the real cooler. "Okay one Dr Pepper coming up," he said, and opened it and slid a long shaped straw into it and set it in a cup holder - one of his little 'accessories'. "Just turn your head slightly, okay?" he said and took a Seven-up for himself before closing the lid again. "Let me know when you want me to drive," he said.
"We gotta stop and get gas soon," Deacon said, taking a sip from his drink. "It'll be a good time to grab some food, take a piss. You can drive after that."
He glanced at Charlie.
"So long as you think you can keep the speed up." He knew Charlie didn't like going fast like this, that his wreck with Chris might still pop into his head. But they had little choice.
"I can keep the speed up," Charlie promised. He took a sip of his drink then grinned. "I'll pretend I'm driving Dolores."
He peered at the laptop and said, "There's a gas station and so forth about four miles ahead. We could swap there if you like?"
"That'll work. I'm starving."
Deacon slowed as they approached the exit ramp and pulled off the freeway. The first gas station they came to he pulled in and pulled up to the pump, shutting down the car and getting out. As the gas pumped he stretched, putting his hands in the small of his back and leaning back, sighing as the bones popped.
Charlie had dived out the other side and made a lightning visit to the rest room then hared into the nearby restaurant and bounced nervously until the nice lady at the counter agreed that yes they could make the fastest four cheeseburgers with bacon in Florida.
"You want fries with those," she asked.
"Please," Charlie said passing her some cash. "Someone'll be in to pick them up in five minutes, if that's okay?"
"Sure hun," she said with a grin at his back a he shot back out again and was back at Deacon's side before the tank was more than half filled.
"Your turn," he said.
Deacon smiled at him and made a quick trip to the restroom himself then went in to fetch the food. The lady at the counter smiled even more when she saw him and Deacon leaned on it and flirted a bit with her until their order was ready and she handed him the paper bag.
"Thanks, darlin'," he drawled and she flashed him a coy smile.
"Anytime honey," she replied and watched him walk out with a little sigh.
"Right," he said once he was back at the car. "We got food."
He slid into the passenger seat and ran a hand over Car's dashboard. "Now you be good for Charlie, baby," he said softly to her. "We can't afford to lose time."
Charlie had used the time to wash the windscreens and adjust the seat until it was just right because that was just common sense. As Deacon got into Car Charlie fastened his seat belt and started the engine. Car stuttered for a moment then, as Deacon spoke to her, settled down to a steady throbbing snarl.
"Okay," Charlie said, indicated and took off with a gentle acceleration.
But when they reached the freeway they flew.
###
Navigating on the fly was a pain, but Langham had paid top dollar to have his car fitted out with all the latest GPS and other gadgets that Davis could possibly require. For most of the time Langham drove, Davis just taking over for brief stretches while Langham took and made phone calls - he had a business to run, after all. The rest of the time Davis looked out for radar traps, and diverted them round the worst of the traffic.
Where they were in the ranking of the racers they had no idea. They had already seen one competitor spreadeagled over his hood with two cops reading him his rights, and they had passed a very nice Porsche Carrera slewed across the hard shoulder with a mangled wing and the driver, bleeding from the forehead, trading insults with the driver of the truck that had put him out of the race. But that didn't matter. What concerned Langham, and therefore Davis, was that they had neither seen not heard anything of Ferrell.
Until, that is, they reached their stop for the night, handed their timer box over to the marshal and pulled into the parking lot. There was the old Dodge and there beside it, talking to one of the officials, was Ferrell.
"Fuck," Langham said, and looked around at the busy lot and the badged officials, one allocated to each car.
"First day, boss," Davis said. "It'll be tougher tomorrow. The wannabees'll be thinned out and it will be the hard men." His gaze strayed across to Nissan 350Z that had just pulled up and the two well dressed black guys who were getting out of it. "Ferrell's from the South, isn't he?" he said thoughtfully. "Wonder how he feels about competing against them?"
Langham looked and grinned. "Does it matter? Just as long as they think he's got a beef with them ..."
"They might do our job for us," Davis snickered.
Langham smirked and strolled in their direction.
Deacon saw him from the corner of his eye and watched, frowning slightly, then nodded his thanks to the official he'd been speaking with and headed back into their hotel room.
"Ugh I need a shower," he said, feeling grungy from having been in the car all day.
"Me too," Charlie said, arms full of bags. "Now are you SURE you don't want me to spend the night in the car? I can quite easily. You know I can sleep anywhere."
"No. Got the alarm on her, there's that official out there and - well honestly I think she'll let us know if anyone comes close." Did it count as cheating if your car was haunted? "Let's get cleaned up and get some rest. Neither of us got that much sleep last night."
"Nor the night before," Charlie admitted. "I dunno. The flat seems very big and draughty without you and Sheila, though good for a cuddle, is no substitute." He gave Deacon one of his patent Looks even though, honestly, all he wanted to do was snuggle close and sleep.
Deacon was in agreement. "Shower's not big enough for two," he said and gathered up his things. "I won't take long."
He stepped into the bathroom and the shower was heard starting a moment later along with a slight curse as Deacon got in when the water was still chilly so as not to use up all the hot water.
Charlie smiled and picked up the information that had been left on the beds for them and seated himself to read. "D," he called, after a moment or two, "there's a choice - we can either go out, there's a diner they recommend just down the road, or there's a choice of half a dozen take outs that deliver. Are you hungry?"
The water shut off and Deacon stepped out a minute later, one towel wrapped round his waist and drying his hair with another. "Yeah but let's get something delivered. Car's safer here and I don't want to walk and get to far away from her."
"Okay," Charlie said and handed him the sheaf of takeout leaflets. "There's coupons too. You know what I like." He grinned and headed for the shower, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.
They ordered food and talked about where the next check point might be as they ate then settled down for the night in one of the two double beds in the room. Sleep came quickly, even if Deacon slept lighter than normal - keeping an ear out for trouble.
Summarised for those of you who have lives: Deacon and Charlie survive the first day of the race.