Defective - A Pychopath's Tale Book 2 - On The Road

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 15 (v.1) - Girl School

Submitted: October 10, 2019

Reads: 3

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Submitted: October 10, 2019



Chapter 15 Defective Book 2


Girl School




Monday.  Sonny was at the garage before Sandy and I showed up, and we’d come early.  This was no surprise though, when I knew him before, he was always the first to arrive.  We wouldn’t be able to get on the track today though, the staff was still cleaning up after the weekend.  When they were finished, the top ranked drivers would get the first chances at the track.


“They’ve got another meet and greet for paddock ticket holders on Friday before the race.  They’re opening the gates for non-general ticket holders on Thursday, all the general admission ticket people get let in on Friday.  Each driver is supposed to have pictures to hand out with them with their car.  We can’t even get decals made, what do you want to do about the pictures?  People are asking about T-shirts too.”


I looked up from the paper in my hand at Sonny.  I wished I had answers for him, I was hoping he had solutions for me.  I could only shrug and hold my hands up for a second and let them drop in exasperation.  I could read that he was feeling the same way I was.


“Coffee?”  Sandy said as she offered a cup to Sonny.


“Thanks Sandy.”  He said as he took a cup.


“Come on boys, don’t look so down.  We’ve made it this far, something will turn up.  Keep your face in the sun, your eyes on the stars and all that shit, remember?”  She stated then handed a cup of coffee to me.


“Yeah, but the author of that piece got his head blown off and was buried without it.  Remember?”  I returned.


“Yeah, but in the end, the French won the war and his words still live on today.”  She retorted.


Great, after we’d been dead a few hundred years, we’d be famous.  Not the way I wanted to go out, with my head blown off by my own people.  She seemed rather chipper compared to how she was last night.  I wasn’t sure if she’d snuck off and fed her daemon or not.  It wasn’t the full moon, but that didn’t actually matter.  She could feed that daemon anytime.


“Aren’t you all dolled up there Sandy girl.”  Sonny commented now that he’d actually taken a good look at her.


She had dressed up, in her Zassy finest.  She’d even put on makeup, and not just on her eyes.  She’d used a base to make her already pale skin even paler, she looked practically white.  Her lips were jet black and she had her dagger earrings in.  The corset she had on was actually my favorite that she had.  Black, naturally, with silver metal accents along the lines that ran up her torso.  Other silver pieces ran along her boobs to where her nips would be.  She looked fucking hot as hell to me.


Her skirt was leather and also had silver stud accents.  The skirt was short, it had to be on her, to show her legs.  The boots she had on came to mid thigh, on the low side of mid.  She put her hair in pony tails that stood out from her head.  She’d used something that almost looked like a copper tubing spring used for bending it, to make her pony tails stand out from her head into pompoms at the end.  I guess you could call it a dark gothic schoolgirl look.


“Thanks Sonny.  Gotta look my best for my fans you know.”  She replied then tittered some.


I looked at her as I smiled a touch deviously.  “Yeah, your fans.”  I stated then dropped the paper I was holding down on the hood of the car so the headline faced up.


The paper was a cheap racing newspaper called the Racing Gazette.  ‘Substitute driver Sandy ‘Dirt Girl’ Banks bares all at charity shootout parade.”  The headline read.  Below that was a picture of Sandy as she was rising up out of the car with her shirt up showing the world her boobies.  There was a blurred out bar across where her nipples and areola were.


“You sure got some attention out there.  Not exactly in a good way, but, I guess it couldn’t hurt.”  I said to her.


“Hey now, don’t be too harsh and so quick to judge now Mister.”  Sonny stated.  “Now, she’s on the cover of a popular racing rag.  People will be talking about this.”  He slid the paper over and looked at the cover.  “You know now, we could use this picture to say she’s really a boy and take some of the pressure off’n us for running with a girl.”


“Hey!”  Sandy exclaimed and started swatting Sonny on the shoulder with open hands.  He leaned away from her assault laughing hard.


“I’m with her on this one.  If she’s really a boy, then that means I’m shagging sausage.  Not an image I want to portray.”  I rebuffed his comment with.


“Now, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.  You just might like it there Mister Majestic!”  Sonny ejected as he moved away to avoid Sandy’s slaps.


She left him alone now and returned to the car where the paper was.  She started reading part of the article.


Sandy Banks, a 19 year old girl from Rhode Island is subbing for the late Lonny Smith whom passed away Friday from an apparent drug overdose to commit suicide.  This will be the first NASCAR bracket race for the newcomer whom has only raced dirt tracks up until now, dubbing her the ‘Dirt Girl’, a name she strongly embraces.  In a drivers exhibition parade at a charity event, the Dirt Girl did some exhibition of her own in response to a chanting crowd, lifting her shirt and showing her bosom to the world.


She slid the paper up so she could read the article as it continued under the picture of her showing herself off.


Racing legends Corbin Dallas and Sonny Snow have joined her team and are running the crew.  Also in her corner is another legend, driver Mister Majestic.  It is uncertain if Majestic is training her or if he is her main sponsor.  The question fans have, is can this cricket sized girl hold up to the competition and muster the stamina needed to complete this endurance cup race?


“Cricket sized girl?  What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  Sandy squawked.


“It means, you just a little bit of a thing cricket girl!”  Sonny teased.


She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed some more.  “If anything, I’m a lizard that eats crickets.”


“Well, you’ll definitely have to be cold blooded out there if you’re going to finish this thing.”  Sonny stated.


Silence fell between us for a bit after Sonny said that; we were each lost in our own world of thought.  Neither Sandy or I believed we’d be this far.


“So, what do we do today?”  Sandy asked Sonny.


He sighed.  “Nuttin’ that’s what we do today, not a dad-burn thing.  We can’t get on the track, can’t put sponsors on the car, ain’t much we can do.  She’s tuned and running perfect, until you get her out on the track, we’re spun out.  Only thing we can do is wait on NASCAR to approve our number and our new sponsor.”


“Whom exactly do we have as sponsors now?  Mark V Tires, X101.1, that’s it right?”  Sandy asked.


“Yeah, that’s it.  Taint like people are going to storm in to sponsor an unknown, and a girl as wrong as that is.”  Sonny commented.


For a moment we locked eyes.  I knew what he was thinking, what he was implying. 


“You can add Kleg to that list.  We’re in for five crown.”  Edith announced as she walked around the side of the garage.


With her at her side was Melinda, she was all smiles.


“You got her work permit signed!”  Sandy ejected as she gave a thumbs up to Mel.


“That I did.”  Edith replied.


“What happened to your hands?”  Sandy said with concern heavy in her voice.


We all looked at Edith’s hands; they were bruised and bleeding in some spots where the flesh had been broken away.


She chuckled.  “Well, her case worker wasn’t willing to sign her permit, so I had to do some explaining and convince him to sign.”


Well, you know what they say about redheads.  She handed the work permit to Sonny.  He’d make copies and filed one with the office.


“Won’t he cancel it?  I mean…”  Sandy gestured at her hands.


Sonny answered.  “Not too likely.  What boy is going to admit a girl kicked his ass?”


Edith, Sonny and I laughed out loud, Sandy started grinning.


“Yeah, I guess you got a point there.”  She commented.


A vehicle came towards where we were from down the paddock road.  It turned in and parked by us, ‘Rock City X101 The Outlaw’ was printed on the side, and front.


“They must be here to pick up the contract and give us their logo mask.”  Sonny stated as he looked back at the van.  He turned his attention to Mel.  “Munchkin, there’s a contract for X101 on my desk, Corbin’s probably sitting there, have him hand it to you and bring it out.”


With a nod she headed into the garage to get the contract.  A boy climbed out of the van, then reached in and retrieved a cardboard tube.  That would have the decals for the car with their logo in it.


He walked to where we were.  “Is there a Sonny Snow here?”  He asked looking between all of us, including Sandy.


“That’s me, you’re station decals I take it?”


“Yes sir.”  The boy answered and handed the tube to Sonny.


Mel returned with the contract and Sonny motioned to the boy and she handed the contract to him.  He stood with the tube then opened an end.  The boy watched and waited for Sonny to inspect the decals.  He pulled them out and unrolled them.  I thought they looked good and would fit perfect on each door panel.


“Nice, nice, they look good.”  Sonny confirmed.  The boy nodded then started to turn back towards the van.  “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know who makes your decals for you, would you?”


The boy stopped and looked back at Sonny.  “Ah… no one sir.  Well, one of the engineers at the station makes all of our banners, signs, bumper stickers, T-shirts, he has a shop in the basement of the station.  Whatever we need, he makes.”


“You don’t say.”  Sonny replied as a smile grew on his face.  “You wouldn’t happen to have Rachelle… um, the station manager’s phone number would you?”


The boy’s eyes darted around for a second.  “Well, I can give you the station’s main number, you could ask for her and they’ll transfer you.”


“No, no, I mean her direct number, not the customer line.  I need to call her directly.”  Sonny explained.


The boy was a bit nervous now, not sure what to say.  “Well, um, we aren’t… ah supposed to give out private numbers.”


Sonny chuckled.  “Now see here son, we are a race team, a race team that Rachelle has sponsored, don’t you think she’d want us to call her directly?”  He reasoned.


“I think if she did, she’d have given you her number.  I can call the station and ask her.”  He offered.


“Now why don’t you just do that please.”  Sonny said.


The boy walked back towards the van as he made his call.  He looked back at us several times.  After several minutes he came back to us.


“She said she’d call the garage.”He informed us then turned and quickly made his way to the van.


Around the time he fired the engine to leave, Corbin stuck his head out the door of the office.  “Snowman, phone call for you, says her name’s Rachelle McMillan, you want to talk to her?”


“Sure do, I’ll be right in.”  Sonny told him as he rolled up the decals and put them back in the tube.


After he was in the shop, Corbin sat down with us and broke out some herb stating he needed a little smoke to help him relax.  When the pipe was about to pass Mel, she reached out and grabbed it before Edith could bypass her and hand it off to me.  At first Edith started to protest, saying she was too young, but Sandy stood up for her.  She was part of the crew and she could partake with the crew she proclaimed.  Then Sandy winked at her and Mel winked back.  I understood the reasoning.


We were midway through the second round of smoking, Mel was keeping up with us, she’d clearly been a regular smoker of cannabis, which wasn’t surprising considering she came from a poor family and hung out at the race track, when Sonny emerged from the shop.


“Why this car is automatic, it’s systematic, it’s hy-dro-matic… why it’s Greased Lightnin’” Sonny sang out as he came to where we were, dancing like he was from the 50’s as he moved.


He stopped short of us and started gyrating his hips like he was Elvis Presley and continued singing.  “We’ll get some overhead lifters and some four barrel quads oh yeah.  Fuel injection cutoff with chrome plated rods oh yeah…”


Edith and Mel cut in, “I’ll get the money, I’ll kill to get the money” and started dancing with him.


“With a four speed on the floor they’ll be waiting at the door, you know that ain’t no shit (Sonny moved over and lifted Sandy’s shirt) ‘cuz  I get lots-a tit, in Greased Lightnin’…”


Sandy put her shirt back down as she stood and joined Sonny and the girls in song.  She sang with Sonny while Edith and Mel sang backup vocals.


Edith and Mel: “Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go…”


Sonny and Sandy, moving their hands straight out in front of them from left to right, “Go Greased Lightnin’ you’re burning up the quarter mile.”


Edith and Mel: “Go Greased Lightnin’ - go Greased Lightnin’”


Sonny and Sandy: “Go Greased lightnin you’re coasting through the heat lap trial…”


“As much as I hate to break up dance class, I take it you have good news Sonny?”  I said loudly to get his attention, the singing and dancing stopped.


“Party pooper.”  Mel commented.


“Yeah.”  Edith agreed.


Sonny was grinning like a dog that just treed a coon.  “Heck yeah, we got us decals boys and girls.  I’m going to fax over the dimensions and pictures, all that stuff and X101 is going to make anything we need!”


That was good news.


“Break times over, time to get our numbers on so we’re ready when the rest of our decals are done.  Chop, chop.”  Corbin said as he stood up.


The girls sighed while us boys, started getting things rolling on putting the decals on the car.


“Sash… we need to get the car in the garage, you want to drive it in Sandy, or should I have Edith do it?”  I asked.  We weren’t calling each other by our assumed names in private, we’d have to do that, I almost fucked up, Sandy had too on a couple of occasions.


“Fuck dude face, I’m driving it in.  That thing’s amazing!”  She chimed.


“Thing?”  Sonny said in an objecting tone.  “She is the Black Honey Bee, she is not a thing, she is a work of art.  I thought you’d appreciate that.”


Sandy didn’t miss a beat.  “Fuck dude face, I’m driving her in, she’s amazing.”  She corrected to the approval of the Snowman.


Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so down, things were turning in our favor.  I just hoped our good fortune continued thru to the end of the race.  900 kilometers, that was where we really needed the stars aligned in our favor.


oOoOoOoOoOoOoO Defective - A Psychopath’s Tale - OoOoOoOoOoOoOo


“So how did you get the nickname Snowman exactly?  It had to be more than just because your last name is Snow.”  Sandy queried of Sonny.


He looked over at her with a half cocked smirk on his face.  “You know what cocaine is, right?”  He posed.


Sandy nodded.  “Yeah, so?”


“Well, back before your day, when I was driving, cocaine was also known as blow or snow.  And I played in the snow.  We partied hard back then, and I was the Snowman.”  He answered.


“Oh.”  Sandy replied, then her face crunched with question.  “You used to drive?  Stockcars?”


Sonny sniggered.  “Hell yeah stockcars, what you thinking I meant?  Go carts?  I started with Stockerd Brakes Race Team back in the day.  After that I drove for Imperial Gasket and Seal.  That’s who I was with when I had my accident.  Bad concussion, damaged my inner ear, career done.  Went to college, worked for Mopar till that went south, then I started running crews, ended up with Victory Oil.  Stayed with them till I left.”


“How come I’ve never heard of you as a driver?  With as much history as I’ve read, I’d think that’d come up.  No mention of Sonny Snow until you were with Victory Oil.  Best engineer and car designer at the time.”  Sandy stated.


“Well, you see Sandy girl, back when I ran, they didn’t keep records like they do now.  Unless you were in the top 10, 15 maybe, no body cared about you, and I was far from that.  Closer to last then first.”  He replied.


“Stockerd, they built the race track, went bankrupt afterwards.  Nobody would use their parts after the crash at Brokenheart.”  Sandy said.


“Yeah, I know, I was there.  Wasn’t Billy Stockerd’s fault really, was the states.  They’re the ones that said it was all good to build the track there.  Wasn’t the end of Billy though.  He’d started another company that made more than brakes.  Shocks and struts were their start.  Value priced auto parts.  After what happened at Brokenheart, NASCAR banned Billy Stockerd from ever building or owning a track again.”  Sonny revealed.


“So what’d he do?  You said that wasn’t the end for him.”  Sandy inquired with interest.


This was history, something she was very interested in, and she was talking with someone that had lived it.


Sonny grinned, he was having a good time right now.  “I also said he’d had another company, one that his name wasn’t on, no one knew he’d started it or that he owned it.  He wanted to keep Stockerd Brakes separate.  He did this through other people and other interests he had a hand in.  He named it using his wife’s maiden name actually, which was Ellington.”  He paused and waited for that to sink in, it didn’t take long.


“So he did build another track, just nobody knew he did.”  Sandy reasoned.


“Heh, yeah, he did just that.  He’d sued the government for the bad environmental report on Stockerd Raceway and won.  He moved the settlement money around, then used that to build Ellington Speedway, it was renamed Ellington Raceway several years later.”  Sonny explained.


It was getting on towards noon now, so I decided I’d take everyone’s order for lunch.  I’d phone the order in and use fake information so they wouldn’t connect the order with us.  By the time I picked up the order, they wouldn’t be able to mess with it, at least, that was my reasoning.  I’d send Mel in to pick it up.


“Taking lunch orders, getting it from this place.”  I said and held out a copy of the menu.  “Going to phone in the order and not tell them it’s for our race team.  Going with Bayer Electric.”


Sonny laughed.  “Bayer Electric, you are trying to get us poisoned aren’t you.  Get the orders together, I know someone that can pick it up and deliver.  No worries there.”


I shrugged, worked for me.  Sonny knew everyone around here.  He’d been well liked and I trusted him, anyone he said we could trust, or Edith, I knew we could.  I’d just written down Sonny and Sandy’s orders and was about to go get the others, when the sound of a three trumpet air horn ruptured the calm of the day.  Sandy jumped up and quickly moved in the direction of the horn.  I was curious about why she’d have any interest.


She looked back at us, grinning from ear to ear, then took off running.


“Hey… Sandy where are…”  I gave up, she was too far gone now and I realized she had no intention of stopping for me.


Sonny looked at me with the same puzzled look that I was feeling inside.  “Now, what the hell is that girl up to now?”


“Snowman, you know about as much as I do.  With her, who knows.”  I replied.


The air horn sounded again, then shortly after that… a guitar riff resounded through the area.  People started heading towards the paddock road to see what was happening.  The music was getting closer, drowning out the chatter from the people around.  Sonny and I went to the road to see what Sandy was up to.


The music of a rock guitar was soon joined by a drum beat, I thought I recognized the tune… I had heard it before.  I could see movement coming around the bend in the road down from us, and people on the other side of the road pointing, some with shocked looks, others putting their hands to their faces.


Where I knew the tune from ripped into my brain.  My little voice started chattering, only it was in a good mood.  First to come into view, was Sandy.  Behind her, were eight other girls, walking in a V behind with her in the lead, all dressed in black corsets, leather skirts, and mid thigh boots, just like Sandy.  Behind them was a semi tractor and trailer.  As the truck cleared the curve, I could see the logo on the wind foil on top of the cab.  It was a large custom Z, the same one that Zassy Designer Clothing used.


“What in creation…”  Sonny muttered as he watched with his mouth agape.


I couldn’t help it, I started laughing, Sonny looked at me for a moment before returning to the progression down the road.  “Sonny old hat, I think we just got a pit crew and a whole lot-a help.”


As the semi drove further into view, I could see more girls hanging off the sides of the truck, all dressed in the same attire as Sandy and the girls up front.  I wasn’t sure when exactly she’d arranged this, or how, but somehow, she’d talked Zandie into helping.


The truck blew its trumpets again.  Some people were cheering, others, well I think they may have been a little scared seeing a literal truckload of goth chicks coming down the road.  Now I could see inside the windscreen of the tractor.  Behind the wheel, one mister Holland Fuzzy, hanging out the window beside him now, one miss Zandie Xayarath.  Hot damn, we were in the butter zone now.  We didn’t just have a crew, we had a troop!


Sonny was laughing now too as the semi pulled past us.  Holland blew the air horn again, and we all moved as he started to back the truck next to the garage.  Since we were the last one on the row, he had plenty of room.  People were yelling things at us, but I couldn’t hear them through the music.


Sandy and several of the girls stood blocking the road behind the semi, others were where he would park with lighted flashlight cones like they used at airports.  Other girls were in front of the semi, signaling directions to Holland.  All of the other girls let go of the trailer and moved away from the truck.  On the back doors of the trailer it said ‘Girl School’ with a model in a similar outfit as what all the other girls were wearing.


On the sides of the trailer, under a full length row of text that said, ‘Zassy Designer Clothing - Made For the Dark Side - Design Z - Clothing For The Night’ were more images of models in various clothing.  We’d be the center of attention now, that was for sure.


Once Holland had the semi parked, he sounded the air horn again, then the music ended.  Zandie climbed out while he let the truck idle down for a minute or so, then he turned the beast off and joined Zandie.  The crew of girls were standing along the road in front of the garage and semi, some with hands on a hip or both hips, others were running hands through their hair, a couple had their hands on their bottoms as they shook their butts at the people watching.  They were all acting like they were on a runway or at a show.  Fitting, because they actually were, just different than the average designer show.


All of us were smiling like idiots now.  “Now THAT is what I call an entrance!”  I told Zandie as she walked up.


She gave a bow to us then looked at Sonny.  “You must be Sonny ‘The Snowman’ Snow.”


“Yes ma’am, I am.”  Sonny replied.


Zandie stuck her hand out.  “Zandie Fuzzy, pleased to meet you.”  She introduced herself as. 


Apparently, they’d already gotten married, and we weren’t invited. 


“You must be Edith Johnson.”  Zandie said to Edith and shook her hand.


“Yes ma’am, I am.” 


“Let me introduce you to your mechanic crew.”  She said then held a hand out to a girl that was at the first position in a line of four girls.  “Bitch Leslie, engines, blowers, anything to do with those, she’s your girl.”  She moved to the next girl.  “Bitch Louisa.  Injectors, electrical, computers, she’s your girl.”  To the next in line, “Bitch Delta, brakes, tires, exhaust, she’s your girl.”  To the final girl.  This one had two chromed pistols on her hips and a katana across her back.  “Bitch Ginger, your head of security.  She leads a full platoon of Pinkerton trained girls.”


Zandie led us around and introduced us to each girl.  I was more than impressed, I’d have to say, I was amazed!  Once the introductions were over, she took us to the back of the semi trailer.  When she opened the back, more girls piled out, only these girls were armed to the teeth,  Some had pistols, others had single or double katana across their back while others had numb-chucks and other designer weapons.


“So, where does the name Girl School come from?”  Corbin asked.


Zandie replied with a smirk.  “That’s the name of the roller derby team your security girls come from.  Heavy hitters.”  She answered.


Inside the trailer was everything a race team could want.  “You have your tool crib, spare parts, extra engine block, fluids, air compressor, all kinds of fun toys for race car girls and boys.  Mostly for the girls.”  Zandie stated then she went to a cabinet and opened it up, removing a flat type box, like clothes came in.  She went to Sandy.  “One custom made, NASCAR approved, custom design fire retardant fire suit, as requested.”


Sandy grinned and opened the box.  The fire suit looked like it would fit her perfect.  Dirt Girl was printed on the back with the number of her car on it.  Below that it said Girl School.  Mark V Tires were listed along with Zassy and the other sponsors.


“We have uniforms for everyone.  Please check the cabinets and find yours.”  She announced.


Sandy broke form.  She ran to Zandie, stepped up and gave her a hug.  “Thank you for this Zandie!”  She said then released her.


Next, I went up to her, Holland’s eyes were on me.  “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart; I don’t know how you did this, you are amazing.  Thank you.”  I told her, then, against my normal, hugged her as well.


“Don’t thank me, thank her.”  She said and pointed at Sandy.  “She’s paying for all this.  I’m just the leg girl that put it all together.”


When we moved out of the trailer, the security girls had formed a perimeter around the garage and trailer.  I think we’d be safe to leave the car here now.  No one was getting past these girls without a fight.  Sandy had saved our collective asses.  I’d have never asked Zandie and Holland for a favor like this; I’d would’ve expected them to tell us to get fucked.  Sandy pulled it off though, and here they were.


oOoOoOoOoOoOoO Defective - A Psychopath’s Tale - OoOoOoOoOoOoOo


Tuesday.  Both Sandy and I were in good spirits this morning after the great day yesterday.  Today select officials from NASCAR would be meeting with us to inspect the car.  Now that we had an actual security team, that incidentally were also Pinkerton trained guards, they’d be running each person’s identity before they’d be allowed to touch the car.  This was actually allowed by NASCAR.


When we arrived at the garage, only two girls were near the place.  This left me a touch worried.  One of the girls stopped us as we were about to enter.  She checked our access.  While she did this, I questioned her on the lack of security.  Her response was there wasn’t a lacking in the security, the others were in the garage for the morning briefing, and that they’d be back on their posts within five minutes.  When we walked into the shop, the security girls were in there.


We went to the office where Corbin was, when I looked back after we were inside, the girls were filing out. 


“How long they been in here?”  I asked Corbin pointing to the area they’d had their meeting in.


“Shoot, they’re done already?”  He replied, that pretty much answered my question, not long.  “Their captain, the tall one with the scar on her face, she had them looking at pictures of people not to let near and told them about the inspection.  They couldn’t have been in here but three minutes.”


That fit with Pinkerton’s style of training and how they held their briefings.  Short and to the point.


“Oh, a track gopher dropped this off for you, well, the team.  They’re having a meet and greet on Wednesday, tomorrow, for perspective sponsors.  I know, we aren’t looking for any, but we still have to be out there.  It’ll only be a small gathering just for sponsors and prospective sponsors.  They just decided to do it, so it’s a bit rushed.”  Corbin explained.


“Yeah, this was going to happen Thursday, then got canceled.  Guess they finally got things worked out.  Some of the other drivers have been talking about it.  Not to me directly of course, just overheard things.”  I replied.


The sound of the car garage door opening drew our attention out the single window onto the floor.  Several girls were waiting outside the door, one came into the garage and climbed into the car, a moment later the engine fired and the car started backing out.


“What the hell is she doing?”  I remarked then turned quickly for the office door.


“Mister, relax.”  Corbin called after me.  I stopped and looked back at him.  “Pit crew training.”  He told me.


I opened the door, a bit more relaxed and considerably less worried, and strolled out.  I used the side door to go out and continued to stroll as I followed the car to where they were taking it.  These were Zandie and Holland’s girls, I had no worries about what they were doing with the car, I just wanted to see how they trained, and if they were any good; if they’d ever pitted a car before.  I had my doubts.


They had plywood sheets, thick ones, laid out on the ground with what looked like steel plate chunks where the jacks would go, I assumed.  They parked the car over these and one of the girls started talking with the others.  From what she was saying, they’d pitted Indy cars before, but not a stockcar.  The girl was explaining the difference to them.  Corbin joined them.


He took some time to go over some things that they’d need to know when they were doing it for real on the track.  He focused on safety mostly.  Several other girls, along with Sandy, came out of the back of the semi, each carrying a tire for the others to practice with.  Then the sound of a generator coming to life echoed around us and a compressor starting.


Another vehicle turned in beside the semi, security girls swarmed on it.  They checked the identities of the people that got out, namely Edith, Mel and the other girls that would be working on the car as mechanics.


Our pit crew started practicing on the car.  As they did their job, Corbin was giving them pointers, and at times, he even entered the mix to demonstrate.  He had a smile on his face the entire time, a very happy and contented smile.  He was enjoying working with the girls.


It was quite a show.  With Corbin’s help, they’d do just fine.  Sandy and I walked back towards the garage, stopping beside the semi and across from the entry door into the garage and started talking about race things.  I told her about the meet and greet with perspective sponsors, then she handed me a paper.


“Zassy is sponsoring us for 10 crown, and 10 more from Design Z.  With that, I think we’re good for the rest of the week and the race.  And we can actually pay people.”  She told me with a beaming face.


Zandie and Holland pulled in next, with Zandie behind the wheel.  In the back of the car with them were two people clearly from NASCAR.  When the security girls descended on them, Holland vouched for the identities of the two boys with them.  They were NASCAR inspectors.


They went and spoke with Edith while Zandie and Holland joined us.


“Where’d those girls learn to pit a car like that?  They’ve done this before.”  I stated looking between Holland and Zandie.


Holland tittered and motioned to Zandie.  “Indy.”  Zandie said.  “They’ve never worked together, came from different teams.  Indy doesn’t snub girls like NASCAR does, actually, every other racing motor sport has girls competing in it.  Even drag racing.”


I looked down to my feet as memories from the past hit me.  She was right, only NASCAR didn’t have girls racing.  The only place they seemed to want them was in the office, or walking around in skimpy outfits at events.


“Yeah, I know.  That’s part of what worries me.”  I looked over at Zandie.  “Maybe I should back out.  They’re going to be brutal to her out there.”


Zandie’s head started shaking.  “No, not a chance.  This is bigger now than just some fucking bet.  Look around you Mister.  Girls.  You’re entire crew is made up of mostly girls.  Don’t you get it?  This is about girls showing the old boys club of NASCAR, we’re every bit as good as any boy and we can hold our own.”


That was something I hadn’t considered until just now when Zandie mentioned it.  Sandy had given out over a hundred photos.  Sure, her stunt during the parade helped with that, but she’d given most of the pictures to other girls.  They were her fans.  She was the one throwing stones at that glass ceiling.  This was far from where it’d started.  It wasn’t a bet anymore, it was a movement. 


We continued talking for a bit when the Snowman walked to the garage, surrounded by five girls.  His personal protection team.  That made sense considering the grudge Sprocket Richie had against him was about equal to the one he had against me.


“I see they’re hard at it.”  Sonny commented as he joined us.


I turned my head back towards where the girls were practicing with the car.  “Yeah, and they’re pretty good.  Corbin will have them changing tires as fast as any pit crew out there in no time.”


Sonny sniggered.  “I’m sure he will, I’m sure he will.  Those are some big girls too.  Should’ve seen them yesterday, they was a flipping tires around like they were doughnuts.  Roller derby chicks, them some tough girls.  Glad they’re on our side.”  He ended with a chuckle as he nudge Zandie.


She smiled at him, he wasn’t being sexist as some might interpret, he was just Sonny being Sonny and he was elated to have the help we’d gotten.  He’d never been one that had a problem with girls on a race track.


“Look at them go.”  He commented to no one.  “Couldn’t ask for a more perfect pit crew, crew in general for that matter, for a girl driver.  This’n ought to chap ol’ Richie’s ass but good.”


“Why is it NASCAR has such a thing against girls on the track?”  Sandy asked.


Sonny scoffed.  “Because, their stupid, and superstitious.  They think girls are bad luck.  Most drivers won’t even touch a girl the day of or the night before a race.  Nope, not until after the race is finished.  They think if you touch a girl before a race, you’ll die in that race.  NASCAR has much different roots than other breeds of racing.”  He looked hard at me when he finished.


“Well that is stupid.  How can touching a girl before a race affect the race in any way?  That’s just dumb.”  Sandy remarked.


Sonny rubbed his chin for a second or two.  “Yeah, I agree.  But, back before Mister here got speed fever, early 70’s I believe it was, this one driver had his wife spend the night with him.  She even kissed him in the pits before he headed out on the track.  He wasn’t even 10 laps in when there was a crash.  He wasn’t in it bad, but somehow a piece of another car broke free, flew into his car.  Killed him on the spot.  That propelled the story of the curse.  No, NASCAR drivers look at girls like old sailors did in the past.  Bad luck if they’re on a ship, bad luck on the track.”


He was finished now, and turned towards the garage and took his first step towards it.  He didn’t look back at all when he made his next comment.  “Isn’t that right Mister Majestic.”


Sandy looked at me.  I couldn’t look her in the eyes.  I turned the other way and started walking away.  I could feel Holland and Zandie looking at me as I moved along.  There were things I didn’t want to remember.


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