Vengeful and Accused

--Chapter Song: Daza Kuduro: Don Omar ((Make sure you listen to it during the race scene!))--

“Fi, Lucas is on the phone,” I looked up to see one of the younger mechanics, Mitch, holding the shop phone out to me. I rolled my eyes and went back to working on the Mazda 10 someone had brought in this morning, it was in bad need of a new transmission. “Tell him the Mazda will be done by tomorrow,” I muttered, pulling a small shop rag out of my back pocket to wipe my hands off. I worked at a mechanic shop for a man named Lucas, he also ran the street races in New York. He was also the man who took me in and taught me how to drive.

Mitch told Lucas what I had told him, “Lucas said it’s about practicing.” What Mitch said maid me pause, I looked at him and set the wrench I had been using on my work bench before going over to Mitch and taking the phone from him. “Thanks Mitch, why don’t you head home, Lucas said you can’t keep working here if your grades are crappy,” I said, Mitch sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’ll thank me one day!” I called after him as he hurried off. Once I was sure it was just me in the shop I brought the phone up to my ear, “I see you’re playing mommy again, aren’t you Fi?” Lucas joked, his Spanish accent tinting his speech.

“I’m just trying to keep the kid on track,” I said with a soft smile. Mitch was just seventeen but he was an amazing mechanic.

“It’s cool girl, there’s a race tonight, thought you’d want in,” Lucas said, I could hear the engines revving and the loud music playing in the background so I had already guessed that.

“You know I need the money,” I said, a grin pulling across my lips as I went over to my car. I heard Lucas chuckle on the other line.

“Win this race and you can finally pay back that tab you’ve racked up ordering parts, I didn’t get them for you for free girl.”

“Quit whining Luc, I work for next to nothing in your shop,” I muttered, “Where’s the race?” Lucas told me the address, I wrote it down and tore the piece of paper off the notepad. “Be here in four minutes Fi,” Lucas said before hanging up.

Four minutes? I quickly pulled my grease stained shirt over my head and took my spare white t-shirt out of my locker which was next to my work bench. My jeans were thankfully black. Wasting no time I grabbed my car keys and made sure the front door of the shop was locked before getting in my Mazda Rx7 and pulling out of the shop, closing the door with the push of a button and taking off.

So, you’re probably wondering who I am? I’m Fiona Parker, but I was once Elisabeth Jezeste De Maur. But that was almost two years ago. I was a prima ballerina at a prestigious dance school here in New York, then I met Vaughn Hart. He was a street racer and everything I shouldn’t have fallen for. But I did. He was someone who took me for who I was, didn’t ask me to change, didn’t force me to do anything, I felt like a real person around him. I loved him. I loved him even though he broke the law on a daily basis and had quite a few outstanding traffic violations which he thought of as accomplishments. I loved his mannerisms and how he could always make me smile.
That was until Vaughn was killed by Semyon Ivanov, a man who is now the biggest drug lord in New York. So I vowed to ruin Semyon Ivanov.

Everyone who knew me as Elisabeth thought I was dead, I had been on the run from Semyon for months with Stephen, Semyon’s son, and Vaughn. Those were the only three who knew I was still alive. Even my father and step-mother thought I was gone. I couldn’t go back to them, not when I was planning to go after Semyon. The last thing I wanted was for another of my loved ones to be killed.

So I took on a new identity, found someone to make new documents for me and locked away the ones that represented my old identity. I dyed my once platinum blonde hair to brown and I left behind my old self. I could never be Elisabeth again. But I couldn’t let go of Vaughn, and in some ways I guess I took on his lifestyle. Penchant for getting in trouble, racing, and a sudden sarcastic manner. I spent weeks after I got back to New York looking for someone to teach me how to drive, I knew that there was no way I stood a chance against Semyon if I didn’t know how to get away, how to fight, and how to conduct said revenge. So far I had gotten the driving down, but the fighting was proving to be difficult since Lucas was “a lover, not a fighter” and refused to teach me. I still feel lucky to have met him. I have no idea what he saw in me, but when I asked him to teach me how to race he put a ten second car together for me and taught me. He never asked for any money (even though he joked about me owing him more than he could even count) and he was always there for me.

My speedometer slowly increased as I soared off the highway. I instantly recognized the area as what Lucas called “racer’s haven”. It was, car garages were spotted around, there were many nooks and crannies for any racer being pursued by the police to hide in. And almost everyone who worked in this little part of town was involved in street racing. I came here a lot but I had never been good with addresses so I always forgot the name of the town. I knew I was in the right place when I spotted a road closed sign in the middle of the street for no particular reason. It was how Lucas kept any other drivers or the police from getting too close to the core of the race. Swerving around the sign I accelerated steadily and soon I was met with the sight of brightly colored cars, women wearing next to nothing, and a few motorcyclists showing off with a few stunts as everyone waited for the race to start. Even through my closed windows I could feel the bass from the car stereos pumping out music for a few break dancers to dance to. The sight of a race always made my heart race with excitement, it was defiantly something I would never get over. I revved my engine loudly to get the crowd behind the starting line to spread apart to let me through, they split like the red sea and I slowly progressed to the starting line. Cheers issued as I stepped out of my car, my brown army style boots contrasting the other women’s high heels. Next to me was a neon green car with some cartoon style decal on the side, I grinned at the driver as he stepped out of his car. “Nice to see you Vince,” I said, walking around my car so I could see the other racers.

“I’ve been waiting to race you again baby,” Vince said, always the womanizing pervert.

“You know, I have a name Vince,” I said as I approached him, he grinned smugly as I did. Once I was in front of him I grabbed his chain necklace quickly and twisted it around my fist so that it was tight around his throat, “and if you keep calling me baby I’ll be sure to leave tread marks on your face,” I whispered softly. I let go of his necklace and stepped away from him. He muttered a few curses under his breath and rubbed his throat. But I wouldn’t let Vince ruin this race, I was already hyped up and ready to drive. That was the thing about racing, it entered your blood and suddenly you were addicted to it, to the rush of it all.

There were three other racers, and none of them looked happy to see me.

“We don’t want to be racing with some skirt, Lucas is this seriously going to be our fourth?” Once of the other racers called out.

Lucas came out from one of the garages that operated here, it was his. He owned quite a few garages actually. He chuckled softly as he came over to me, looking at the other racer he replied, “scared she’ll beat you again Joey?”

The racer, Joey, was effectively shut up by that. I closed the gap between me and Lucas before he could reach the other racers.

“How deep are their pockets tonight?” I asked in a hushed tone.

Lucas flashed a grin at me, “real deep.”

A grin spread across my lips as well as we were now on the starting line with the other three racers gathered leaning against their cars or sitting on their hoods. “What’s the buy in?” I asked.

“Twenty-thousand, you got the kind of money Princess?” Vince asked, raising an eyebrow.

I paused in my retort as his little pet name processed through my mind. Vaughn had always called me Princess. “Lets raise it to twenty-five,” I declared, regaining my composer.

Zander shook his head, “woah, woah, woah, no one said anything about upping the buy in.”

“You don’t want to risk it?” Lucas asked, raising his eyebrows, “then you’d better ask those nice people to step off the line so you can back off it.”

The crowd reacted with a challenging “oooh” which effectively stopped anyone else from complaining.

Once everyone had given the buy in to Lucas he went off to the sidewalk with a wink in my direction. I could hear him telling the crowd off for standing right behind our cars and in the street. When he had gotten the area clear of people a scantily clad woman came out in the middle of the street.

She raised her hands up above her head, “ready, set,” and as she yelled “go!” she whipped her hands down and the race began.

“Alright, lets go,” I muttered to myself as I shifted through first and second just as the rpms reached their max. I took the lead on two of the drivers and was then behind Vince. As we raced down the street he kept blocking any attempt for me to pass him up. Behind me Mike and the Joey were in their own battle of who would take the lead on the other.

“Move dammit,” I grumbled under my breath, trying to swerve and pass him on the left but he did the same. I tried to shake him once more but he just matched my movements rather messily. We took a turn and Vince managed to steal the inside, by now we had a pretty good lead on Joey and Mike, but I had to get ahead of Vince. I could feel the purr of my engine beneath me, and feel of the speed bursting from it.

We were coming up on the last turn and I knew it was now or never, I needed to take this inside on this turn otherwise I would pass Vince up without trading paint. And that just wasn’t very good conduct between racers. I could hear the rpms reaching their shifting point and the corner came into view. My car hugged the edge of the road as I pushed down the gas pedal as far as I could. That sent the rpms up and I pushed the clutch in and shifted in one fluid motion just as we entered the turn and easily slipped right between Vince and the edge of the road, barely making it. Now Vince was just next to my bumper and I could see the finish line just ahead. I flashed a grin at him through my rear view mirror and flicking the button covers off the two little red NOS buttons on my steering wheel. The moment I pressed them I was suddenly pushed into my seat as my car shot forward, leaving Vince behind.

Passing the finish line first is a feeling I can not put into words, it has to be experienced first hand. My heart was still racing as I jerked my steering wheel to the right and fishtailed to a stop in front of the cheering crowd. I got out and the crowd converged, that was the funny thing about street races, most people in the crowd didn’t take sides on who they supported. They just cheered on whoever won. Less than two seconds later Vince came to a stop behind me, then came Mike and Joey. Mike and Vince looked ticked off but Joey seemed to accept the cards dealt to him and swung an arm around Mike and made some sort of joke that made Mike crack a smile.

“Good race Fi,” Lucas said. He handed me the four rolls of cash and I handed him one of the rolls, he frowned at me for a moment and I just made him take the money. I didn’t want to start being a pricey burden to him, and I really had no clue what I’d do with seventy-five thousand dollars. Lucas just smiled and held the roll of money up, “you see this? This is called mutual respect” he called out over the crowd, earning some laughs and a few playful remarks. As everyone dispersed to go enjoy the rest of the night I agreed to find Lucas and a few of his friends in a minute and I went back to my car to tuck away the money I had won. When I was slipping back out of my car I was met face-to-face by a man. He was about a foot taller than me, his head was almost shaved and his extremely short hair was obviously dark. His features stood out prominently, making him extremely handsome as well as intimidating. His eyes, a brilliant blue, were staring straight into mine.

“I’d appreciate it if you got out of my way,” I snapped, shaking myself out of my confused state.

The man didn’t seem to react to my blunt attitude. “What’s your name?” He asked, as if I had greeted him like an old friend.
“I honestly don’t see how that’s any of your business, now move,” I demanded, shoving on his chest. My pushing didn’t seem to bother him, instead he leaned his hands against my car on either side of me. Successfully blocking any escape unless I decided to really put some effort into it.

“Tell me your name and I will gladly move,” he said softly, and even though his expression was all business I knew I was being led into some sort of trap.

“It’s Fiona,” I snapped, crossing my arms and glaring up at him.

He grinned and shook his head, “I meant your real name.”

For a moment I was surprised. Did this man know who I truly was? And if he did, what was he going to do to me? Then in the next moment I was surprised for another reason. All of a sudden the street was full of the scream of police sirens and probably twenty cops or more flooded the streets. The man looked down at me once more and turned away quickly, running over to his black Nissan Skyline. I quickly got into my Rx7 and hit the gas as soon as it was started, flying off down the street and away from the sudden flood of cops. Once I was on a familiar street I knew where I had to go, I had about three cops cars on my tail and even though I sent a silent prayer that my car wouldn’t be recognized those three cops doubled to six. The was the thing about being one of the top street racers, you got a lot of special attention from the cops. I shifted and took a sharp turn at the last minute, drifting around the curve and losing two cops cars in the turn. They both crashed into the building and now I had four on my tail. Four I could evade if I could just gain a little room. I shifted once more and took another corner at the last minute, knocking out another cop car and gaining me a few seconds of head way. After taking one more corner I kept turning and pulled into an old parking garage right on the corner, when I reached the second level I heard the police sirens shoot down the road I had just turned onto. Too bad they were chasing an imaginary racer now.

I drove all the way to the top level and shut off my car, taking the keys with me and climbing out with my leather jacket. I locked the car and pulled an old canvas tarp over my car so that it wouldn’t attract any attention. I kept the tarp up here for moments like these.

The police were still searching when I left the parking garage, but I knew I had to get home, I couldn’t hide up in that parking garage forever after all. My leather jacket was cold against my skin as I pulled it on, but once I flipped the collar up I felt sufficiently disguised. However, it seemed that I had underestimated the police’s intelligence. I felt a spot light hit my back and a muttered curse left my lips. “Hey! Stop right there!” Shit, they recognized me.

Without a second thought I took off running, the police car’s siren started wailing once more and I cut down an ally. The cop car followed suit, quickly gaining on me. I broke free of the ally, crossed the street, and entered another one. But just as I entered, a black Rx7 slipped in before the police car, which swerved to avoid getting crashed into. The car slid to a stop right behind me and the passenger window rolled down, there in the driver’s seat was the man from before. I took a split second to weigh my choices.

Choice number one: get arrested and chance having them figure out my fingerprints actually belong to a Elizabeth Jezeste De Maur or...

Choice number two: get in the car with the man who might know I am not Fiona Parker and possibly escape the cops.

“You coming?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow in question. I glanced at the cop car which had just straightened out but was still trying to dislodge a plastic trash can that had gotten stuck under it’s front bumper.

I sighed and yanked the passenger door open, the moment my door was closed the mystery man took off. We left the ally and he quickly left the town and got back on the highway, only getting sighted by the cops twice, but it seemed this man knew his way around this town just as well as I did.

“Who are you?” I asked, or perhaps demanded would be a better way of putting it.

“You never answered me when I asked who you were, why should I answer you?” He retorted.

“I told you who I am.”

“And I know that you’re lying.”

I sighed once more, crossing my arms and glaring out the window. “You can let me out anywhere, I’ll make my way home on my own.”

“Or I can just take you home, it’s not like we’re in the clear yet, the cops will still be looking for racers,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“No offense, but I don’t trust you.”

“Well, I went through all of the trouble to keep you out of jail and I receive suspicion as a thank you?”

I sighed and leaned back in my seat, “why do you keep saying that I’m not telling you my real name?” I asked, dropping the previous subject for a moment.

“Just my..... intuition,” he said, grinning on the last word. “My name is Zane,” he stated, glancing over at me with a smile. I could tell he was trying to make amends, but I still found it unnerving that he knew I was lying about my name.

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me your name.” My tone was less than pleasant.

Zane chuckled, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

We sat in silence for awhile, I was still contemplating if I wanted to take him up on his offer for a ride home. “So, Fiona-“

“Just call me Fi,” I interjected.

“So, Fi, am I dropping you off somewhere or would you like me to drop you off at your home?” Zane asked, using the tone of a gentleman. A chuckle slipped through my lips and I sighed heavily, I was too tired to let my paranoia rope me into a long walk home avoiding the police. So I recited my address to him and he smiled, “see, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

One of these days I was going to get myself killed.