Fic: The Fast and the Gleeful (Prologue)
Title: The Fast and the Gleeful
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt. I'm not sure if I'll keep going at it, especially as I know nothing about cars, I'm just playing around on a vacation day... Apparently my muse has grabbed hold - there's more coming! :)
Rachel examined herself in her bathroom mirror, cursing her fathers for once again forcing her to start all over in a new town. Their work was important, she understood that, but constantly being the new girl at school was draining. She hated having to re-establish herself, having to demonstrate to another group of over-privileged, under-talented students that she was destined for stardom and their job was simply to sway in the background and make her look good.
On the other hand, she mused, it was New York. She could attend Broadway shows in the evenings and on weekends, honing her craft by watching the best of the best perform. Practicing her show grin in the mirror, she gave her hair a final inspection and double-checked her makeup. Both were acceptable, and she turned sharply on her heel, leaving the bathroom behind and bouncing down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Rachel,” Hiram Berry greeted her. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your first day?”
“Eminently,” she assured him. “Where’s dad?”
“He starts his new assignment this morning, so he wanted to get in early. He told me to wish you good luck, though.”
“How long is he going to be gone?” Rachel sipped at a cup of coffee.
“Hard to say. He doesn’t know all the details yet.”
“Are we at least staying in New York until I’m finished my senior year?”
“Absolutely,” Hiram promised. “We’re not moving until you’ve graduated and you’re off to college, honey.”
“Good,” she nodded.
“Now, are you sure-“
“For the millionth time, daddy, I’m perfectly capable of taking the subway. I can get there a hundred times faster that way, so having you attempt to navigate this city in your vehicle would be a complete waste of time. Okay?”
“Okay,” he smiled as she dropped the cup in the sink and grabbed her backpack. “Have a good day, okay? I hope the first one’s not too bad.”
“I’m sure it’ll be perfectly acceptable, daddy. Have a good day at work!” she kissed his cheek and disappeared out the door.
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The motorcycle that nearly ran her down in the school’s parking lot put a slight damper on her mood, but Rachel put on her best smile as she went through the metal detectors at the school’s front door. To her consternation, the guards didn’t even give her a second glance, and she was quickly ushered through and into the school. She consulted her schedule and the school’s map, quickly discerning that she needed to get to the second floor.
The school, a private one, was immaculately maintained, but that didn’t mean the students behaved any differently than high school students anywhere - they were loud and boisterous, and one of them crashed heavily into Rachel as she ran toward the staircase. She apologetically helped her to her feet. The girl’s fine features showed her Asian lineage, and her smile was bright and infectious.
“I’m so sorry,” she blushed. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Rachel assured her.
“Are you new? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”
“It’s my first day,” Rachel confirmed. “I’m Rachel Berry,” she extended her hand, and the girl shook it.
“Tina,” she replied. “Where are you going?”
“Calculus, in room two twelve.”
“Really? Cool - I’m going there myself. Come on, I’ll show you the way.” She took Rachel’s hand and led her up the stairs. “So,” she asked, “what brings you to New York?”
“My dad’s work, actually.”
“What’s he do?” Tina led her through a crush of students coming the other direction.
“He works for the FBI - he just got transferred here, so we had to move.”
“Ooh, a secret agent,” Tina grinned. “That’s cool. What do you do for fun, Rachel Berry?”
“I perform,” Rachel nodded emphatically. “Singing, dancing - I’m hoping to be accepted to Juilliard.”
“Sounds exhausting - you should come hang out with me tonight and take a break. I mean, if you want.”
“Hang out where?” Rachel was excited at the prospect of a new friend, but experience with high school had taught her to be wary.
“I can’t talk about it here,” Tina looked around. “But it’s awesome - come on, you’ve got to come!”
“I’ll think about it,” Rachel promised, deciding that she’d take the rest of the school day to try and gauge Tina’s intentions.
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Tina seemed sincere enough, and Rachel found herself out late that night at an address deep in the city. She’d told her fathers she’d probably be very late, and given how infrequently she was, they were willing to do away with her curfew for the evening. She looked around, wondering if she’d written the address down wrong. It was an empty industrial building, and the street was filled with expensive-looking cars that all seemed to be blaring a different piece of music from their speakers. There were girls dancing, and alcohol being passed freely from hand to hand. Just as she was turning to leave, she heard Tina’s voice.
“Rachel! You came! Awesome - come on, we’ll go grab a good spot.”
“Tina - what is this?”
“Street racing,” Tina’s grin was huge. “It’s awesome.”
“Street racing?” Rachel looked at the cars - they were all extensively modified, even she could tell that. Many of them had a coloured glow underneath, and all of them looked dangerously fast. “Isn’t that completely illegal?”
“Of course it is,” Tina laughed. “We shouldn’t be drinking either, and I’m sure we’re breaking about a dozen noise pollution laws. That’s the fun of it!” she grabbed Rachel’s hand, pulling her along.
“I’m really not sure I should be here,” she protested, thinking of what her fathers’ reactions would be if they knew.
“Loosen up!” Tina insisted. “Come on!”
In the glow of the various headlights, Rachel had to admit that the scene was intoxicating. Engines rumbled, young men and women looked under open hoods, pointing out features of the engines and debating what needed to be upgraded and what would help their performance. Almost against her will, she let Tina drag her to a spot on the sidewalk. She accepted a beer, but was careful not to drink any of it - she could be rebellious enough to stay, she decided, but she wasn’t going to drink on top of that.
“Fresh meat!” someone called. “Tina, what’d you bring with you?”
“This is Rachel,” Tina said as the man approached them. “Rachel, this is Puck.”
“Puck?” Rachel repeated, confused. “Your name is Puck? Like, the fairy?”
“What?” he shook his head. “No, like short for Puckerman, my last name.”
“Oh, I see,” Rachel looked him up and down. He was tall, and the time he spent in the gym was obvious in his well-defined arms. He wore a tight t-shirt and dark shorts, and his hair was cropped in a Mohawk. If she’d been straight, she imagined that she might have been attracted to him. As it was, she gave him a polite nod.
“Nice to meet you, Puck,” she turned away from him, back to Tina. He didn’t take the hint.
“Want to take a ride with me, baby?”
She didn’t even look at him as she responded. “No, thank you.”
“Tina,” he appealed. “Tell her what she’s missing. It’s not every girl who gets an invite to ride with the Puckasaurus.”
“It’s true,” Tina confirmed. Rachel spared him another glance.
“Really not interested, thanks.” Puck stormed away in a huff.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone turn him down before,” Tina looked admiringly at her. “Guy’s such a dick anyway.”
Rachel smiled, looking around the lot - and froze as someone caught her eye.
She was blonde, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. She wore what could best be described as an obscene parody of a race driver’s jumpsuit - it was black, with pink pinstriping. The top was skintight, and stopped just below her breasts, leaving her midriff bared and her navel piercing on display - it caught the light of her car’s headlights and glittered. The bottom of her outfit was impossibly even tighter, and Rachel was fairly sure if she squinted she could see - she blushed and looked at the car instead. It was the same colour as the girl’s outfit, except reversed - predominantly pink, with black stripes running down the sides.
“Who is that?” she asked Tina, gesturing.
“Her? That’s Quinn. She goes to our school, actually, when she bothers showing up. I wouldn’t bother trying to talk to her, though; she’s not really the social type.”
Rachel paid scant attention to Tina as she kept talking, sneaking surreptitious glances at the girl instead. Her breath caught in her throat as Quinn walked past her, staring daggers at Puck. “Hey!” she shouted. “Are we doing this sometime tonight, or what?”
“Are you putting her up?”
“Fuck yourself, Puckerman,” Quinn snorted. “Beth is mine. She doesn’t get put up in some pissant race just because you want her. The buy-in’s ten g’s, same as it was last week,” she held up a wad of cash. “Are you in or not?”
“Who’s holding?”
“How about the new girl?” Quinn pointed at Rachel, then turned to talk to her. “How about it, new girl? You mind holding the cash?”
Speechless, Rachel just shook her head.
“Fantastic,” Quinn slapped the ten thousand into her hand. “Anybody with the balls, we’re going a quarter-mile. Starts there,” she gestured, “ends at the rail crossing. Concerns? Questions?” no one said a word. “Good. Let’s do this.” Quinn returned to her car and started it up, rolling to the starting line. The purr of the engine was unmistakable, and she shot a grin out the window at Rachel, who found herself holding a hundred thousand dollars in cash.
“How do we know who won if we can’t see the finish line?” Rachel whispered to Tina.
“Artie’s got it covered. He’s like, a tech genius. He’s got a camera set up at the tracks, it broadcasts on the web. There’s a screen right there,” she pointed at a television set up in the back of a truck. “We’ll see the end of the race on there. Let’s watch the start, though.”
There were ten cars, lined up across both lanes, vibrating with the power of their engines. One of the girls, an attractive Latina, stood on the yellow line in the middle of the road, her arm in the air.
“Where does she get that much money?” Rachel whispered to Tina. “Not just the ten thousand, but the money to put into her car?”
“No idea. She’s been doing this for a long time, though - I’ve been coming to these races for two years, and she’s always been here. It’s probably best you don’t ask too many questions, okay? Bad enough your dad’s a cop - if anyone gets the sense you’re spying on them, it won’t end well.” Rachel mimed zipping her lips, returning her attention to the road just as the Latina’s arm dropped and the cars rocketed away. Rachel winced, waiting for her to be run over, but the cars turned deftly around her. The roar was both incredibly loud and totally exhilarating, and she found herself cheering silently for Quinn as the pink car took an early lead.
Another car - Puckerman’s, Rachel thought - overtook her just as they passed out of sight, and Rachel ran to the monitor, watching the screen intently as she waited for any sign of Quinn’s car. And then, just as suddenly, it was there - going so fast that it nearly jumped the railroad track and easily coming in first. Rachel pumped her fist as the car braked to a screeching halt and spun around, driving back toward the starting line. She met Quinn at the car, handing her the collected money through the window.
“Thanks, new girl,” Quinn gave her a lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the night was split by the sound of multiple police sirens, converging from every direction. “Fuck! Fuck me!” Quinn hissed. “New girl, you got a ride?”
“No, I, uh, I took the bus.”
“Get in, then!” Quinn shouted. Rachel nearly dove into the car, and was thrown back against her seat as Quinn jammed the gas pedal downward, upshifting rapidly. Rachel grabbed for the safety belt, but couldn’t find it.
“Excuse me?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“What?”
“Where is the restraining belt located?”
Quinn snorted. “You’re joking, right? Just find something to hang onto, sweetheart - this might get hairy.” Two police cars pulled up to block the intersection they were screaming toward. “Correction - this will get hairy. Hang on!” she hit the brake, sending the back end of the car fishtailing toward the police cars before hitting the gas again and using the sidewalk to get around the patrol cars. Rachel couldn’t bring herself to look at the speedometer, but she estimated they must be doing a hundred miles per hour as they got back on the road. Quinn’s eyes darted back and forth, analysing the traffic patterns and diving in and out at will. The sudden blinking lights of a police roadblock - spike belts and all - in front of them made Quinn curse.
“Fuck! Hold on, hold on!” she spun the wheel and dropped the parking brake into place, spinning the car a hundred and eighty degrees, and nearly tipping them sideways at the apogee of the turn. Releasing the brake, she sped off in the other direction, leaving the roadblock behind them. She looked at Rachel, a manic grin on her face. “Do you trust me?”
“I - I guess so,” Rachel answered.
“Then keep your head down,” she advised as she turned sharply left. Rachel let out a small scream as she saw that they were going to drive off the side of an overpass where the guardrail had been destroyed, and put her head between her knees. The car seemed to be airborne forever, although it was likely only a few seconds, and then there was a tremendous impact as it landed on the lane three feet below them. Quinn stepped on the gas again, and they were on their way.
“Where are we going?” Rachel asked, when she braved opening her eyes again.
“Parking garage,” Quinn said tersely. “I need to get off the road, switch vehicles. I’ll get you home, don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” Rachel murmured. “Not just for that, I mean - for taking me in the first place.”
“Hey,” Quinn waved a hand, and in the dim light Rachel was almost sure she was blushing, “no sweat. Couldn’t let the cops pick you up, right?”
That was the end of the conversation until they were safely parked in what looked for all the world like an abandoned parking structure. “Come on, new girl,” Quinn said, “this way.”
“Could you please stop calling me that?” Rachel asked indignantly as she got out of the car.
“What should I call you?” Quinn grinned over her shoulder.
“Rachel.”
“Rachel, then,” she beckoned her. “Over here.” She approached what could only be a motorcycle, under a camouflage tarp, and whipped the tarp off. Rachel didn’t know the first thing about motorcycles, but it was unmistakably top of the line. All black, the machine looked sleek and deadly. Quinn tossed her a helmet.
“I’ve only got the one,” she apologised. “Better you wear it than me.”
“Wait, you want me to ride that with you? That’s insane.”
“Well, unless you know where to get a bus around here, I think it’d be a good idea.”
Rachel thought for a moment and shrugged, admitting defeat. She watched Quinn mount the machine and tried clumsily to follow suit. Once she was seated, she looked down at the bike in confusion. “What exactly do I hold on to?”
“Me,” Quinn said, without looking back. “Just make sure you lean when I lean, okay?” Rachel looped her arms around Quinn, enjoying the feeling of closeness and the scent of her hair. “Uh, Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“Any chance you could grab my waist instead of my tits? I mean, it’d be a more fun ride, but it’s kind of distracting.” Rachel blushed to the roots of her hair and re-adjusted her grip. “Much better.”
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“We’ll be racing again next week, hopefully sans cops,” Quinn said when the motorcycle had stopped in front of the Berry house. “Wanna come?”
That was a loaded question, Rachel thought. “Sure,” was the answer out of her mouth before she was even sure what she was going to say.
“See you there,” Quinn grinned, donning her helmet and letting Rachel dismount before speeding away.
Hiram was waiting up when she got in.
“Did you have a good time, Rachel?”
“Sure,” she said dazedly. “It was great.”
“I’m glad - did you make any friends today?”
“I think so,” Rachel said dreamily. She stopped short, though, as she saw the file on the table. “What’s that?” she pointed.
“Oh, that’s your father’s latest case. Some kind of smuggling ring, I think. How come?”
“No reason,” Rachel muttered, staring at the photo of Quinn. “No reason at all.”
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers: Absolutely none.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt. I'm not sure if I'll keep going at it, especially as I know nothing about cars, I'm just playing around on a vacation day... Apparently my muse has grabbed hold - there's more coming! :)
Rachel examined herself in her bathroom mirror, cursing her fathers for once again forcing her to start all over in a new town. Their work was important, she understood that, but constantly being the new girl at school was draining. She hated having to re-establish herself, having to demonstrate to another group of over-privileged, under-talented students that she was destined for stardom and their job was simply to sway in the background and make her look good.
On the other hand, she mused, it was New York. She could attend Broadway shows in the evenings and on weekends, honing her craft by watching the best of the best perform. Practicing her show grin in the mirror, she gave her hair a final inspection and double-checked her makeup. Both were acceptable, and she turned sharply on her heel, leaving the bathroom behind and bouncing down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Rachel,” Hiram Berry greeted her. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your first day?”
“Eminently,” she assured him. “Where’s dad?”
“He starts his new assignment this morning, so he wanted to get in early. He told me to wish you good luck, though.”
“How long is he going to be gone?” Rachel sipped at a cup of coffee.
“Hard to say. He doesn’t know all the details yet.”
“Are we at least staying in New York until I’m finished my senior year?”
“Absolutely,” Hiram promised. “We’re not moving until you’ve graduated and you’re off to college, honey.”
“Good,” she nodded.
“Now, are you sure-“
“For the millionth time, daddy, I’m perfectly capable of taking the subway. I can get there a hundred times faster that way, so having you attempt to navigate this city in your vehicle would be a complete waste of time. Okay?”
“Okay,” he smiled as she dropped the cup in the sink and grabbed her backpack. “Have a good day, okay? I hope the first one’s not too bad.”
“I’m sure it’ll be perfectly acceptable, daddy. Have a good day at work!” she kissed his cheek and disappeared out the door.
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The motorcycle that nearly ran her down in the school’s parking lot put a slight damper on her mood, but Rachel put on her best smile as she went through the metal detectors at the school’s front door. To her consternation, the guards didn’t even give her a second glance, and she was quickly ushered through and into the school. She consulted her schedule and the school’s map, quickly discerning that she needed to get to the second floor.
The school, a private one, was immaculately maintained, but that didn’t mean the students behaved any differently than high school students anywhere - they were loud and boisterous, and one of them crashed heavily into Rachel as she ran toward the staircase. She apologetically helped her to her feet. The girl’s fine features showed her Asian lineage, and her smile was bright and infectious.
“I’m so sorry,” she blushed. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Rachel assured her.
“Are you new? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”
“It’s my first day,” Rachel confirmed. “I’m Rachel Berry,” she extended her hand, and the girl shook it.
“Tina,” she replied. “Where are you going?”
“Calculus, in room two twelve.”
“Really? Cool - I’m going there myself. Come on, I’ll show you the way.” She took Rachel’s hand and led her up the stairs. “So,” she asked, “what brings you to New York?”
“My dad’s work, actually.”
“What’s he do?” Tina led her through a crush of students coming the other direction.
“He works for the FBI - he just got transferred here, so we had to move.”
“Ooh, a secret agent,” Tina grinned. “That’s cool. What do you do for fun, Rachel Berry?”
“I perform,” Rachel nodded emphatically. “Singing, dancing - I’m hoping to be accepted to Juilliard.”
“Sounds exhausting - you should come hang out with me tonight and take a break. I mean, if you want.”
“Hang out where?” Rachel was excited at the prospect of a new friend, but experience with high school had taught her to be wary.
“I can’t talk about it here,” Tina looked around. “But it’s awesome - come on, you’ve got to come!”
“I’ll think about it,” Rachel promised, deciding that she’d take the rest of the school day to try and gauge Tina’s intentions.
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Tina seemed sincere enough, and Rachel found herself out late that night at an address deep in the city. She’d told her fathers she’d probably be very late, and given how infrequently she was, they were willing to do away with her curfew for the evening. She looked around, wondering if she’d written the address down wrong. It was an empty industrial building, and the street was filled with expensive-looking cars that all seemed to be blaring a different piece of music from their speakers. There were girls dancing, and alcohol being passed freely from hand to hand. Just as she was turning to leave, she heard Tina’s voice.
“Rachel! You came! Awesome - come on, we’ll go grab a good spot.”
“Tina - what is this?”
“Street racing,” Tina’s grin was huge. “It’s awesome.”
“Street racing?” Rachel looked at the cars - they were all extensively modified, even she could tell that. Many of them had a coloured glow underneath, and all of them looked dangerously fast. “Isn’t that completely illegal?”
“Of course it is,” Tina laughed. “We shouldn’t be drinking either, and I’m sure we’re breaking about a dozen noise pollution laws. That’s the fun of it!” she grabbed Rachel’s hand, pulling her along.
“I’m really not sure I should be here,” she protested, thinking of what her fathers’ reactions would be if they knew.
“Loosen up!” Tina insisted. “Come on!”
In the glow of the various headlights, Rachel had to admit that the scene was intoxicating. Engines rumbled, young men and women looked under open hoods, pointing out features of the engines and debating what needed to be upgraded and what would help their performance. Almost against her will, she let Tina drag her to a spot on the sidewalk. She accepted a beer, but was careful not to drink any of it - she could be rebellious enough to stay, she decided, but she wasn’t going to drink on top of that.
“Fresh meat!” someone called. “Tina, what’d you bring with you?”
“This is Rachel,” Tina said as the man approached them. “Rachel, this is Puck.”
“Puck?” Rachel repeated, confused. “Your name is Puck? Like, the fairy?”
“What?” he shook his head. “No, like short for Puckerman, my last name.”
“Oh, I see,” Rachel looked him up and down. He was tall, and the time he spent in the gym was obvious in his well-defined arms. He wore a tight t-shirt and dark shorts, and his hair was cropped in a Mohawk. If she’d been straight, she imagined that she might have been attracted to him. As it was, she gave him a polite nod.
“Nice to meet you, Puck,” she turned away from him, back to Tina. He didn’t take the hint.
“Want to take a ride with me, baby?”
She didn’t even look at him as she responded. “No, thank you.”
“Tina,” he appealed. “Tell her what she’s missing. It’s not every girl who gets an invite to ride with the Puckasaurus.”
“It’s true,” Tina confirmed. Rachel spared him another glance.
“Really not interested, thanks.” Puck stormed away in a huff.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone turn him down before,” Tina looked admiringly at her. “Guy’s such a dick anyway.”
Rachel smiled, looking around the lot - and froze as someone caught her eye.
She was blonde, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. She wore what could best be described as an obscene parody of a race driver’s jumpsuit - it was black, with pink pinstriping. The top was skintight, and stopped just below her breasts, leaving her midriff bared and her navel piercing on display - it caught the light of her car’s headlights and glittered. The bottom of her outfit was impossibly even tighter, and Rachel was fairly sure if she squinted she could see - she blushed and looked at the car instead. It was the same colour as the girl’s outfit, except reversed - predominantly pink, with black stripes running down the sides.
“Who is that?” she asked Tina, gesturing.
“Her? That’s Quinn. She goes to our school, actually, when she bothers showing up. I wouldn’t bother trying to talk to her, though; she’s not really the social type.”
Rachel paid scant attention to Tina as she kept talking, sneaking surreptitious glances at the girl instead. Her breath caught in her throat as Quinn walked past her, staring daggers at Puck. “Hey!” she shouted. “Are we doing this sometime tonight, or what?”
“Are you putting her up?”
“Fuck yourself, Puckerman,” Quinn snorted. “Beth is mine. She doesn’t get put up in some pissant race just because you want her. The buy-in’s ten g’s, same as it was last week,” she held up a wad of cash. “Are you in or not?”
“Who’s holding?”
“How about the new girl?” Quinn pointed at Rachel, then turned to talk to her. “How about it, new girl? You mind holding the cash?”
Speechless, Rachel just shook her head.
“Fantastic,” Quinn slapped the ten thousand into her hand. “Anybody with the balls, we’re going a quarter-mile. Starts there,” she gestured, “ends at the rail crossing. Concerns? Questions?” no one said a word. “Good. Let’s do this.” Quinn returned to her car and started it up, rolling to the starting line. The purr of the engine was unmistakable, and she shot a grin out the window at Rachel, who found herself holding a hundred thousand dollars in cash.
“How do we know who won if we can’t see the finish line?” Rachel whispered to Tina.
“Artie’s got it covered. He’s like, a tech genius. He’s got a camera set up at the tracks, it broadcasts on the web. There’s a screen right there,” she pointed at a television set up in the back of a truck. “We’ll see the end of the race on there. Let’s watch the start, though.”
There were ten cars, lined up across both lanes, vibrating with the power of their engines. One of the girls, an attractive Latina, stood on the yellow line in the middle of the road, her arm in the air.
“Where does she get that much money?” Rachel whispered to Tina. “Not just the ten thousand, but the money to put into her car?”
“No idea. She’s been doing this for a long time, though - I’ve been coming to these races for two years, and she’s always been here. It’s probably best you don’t ask too many questions, okay? Bad enough your dad’s a cop - if anyone gets the sense you’re spying on them, it won’t end well.” Rachel mimed zipping her lips, returning her attention to the road just as the Latina’s arm dropped and the cars rocketed away. Rachel winced, waiting for her to be run over, but the cars turned deftly around her. The roar was both incredibly loud and totally exhilarating, and she found herself cheering silently for Quinn as the pink car took an early lead.
Another car - Puckerman’s, Rachel thought - overtook her just as they passed out of sight, and Rachel ran to the monitor, watching the screen intently as she waited for any sign of Quinn’s car. And then, just as suddenly, it was there - going so fast that it nearly jumped the railroad track and easily coming in first. Rachel pumped her fist as the car braked to a screeching halt and spun around, driving back toward the starting line. She met Quinn at the car, handing her the collected money through the window.
“Thanks, new girl,” Quinn gave her a lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the night was split by the sound of multiple police sirens, converging from every direction. “Fuck! Fuck me!” Quinn hissed. “New girl, you got a ride?”
“No, I, uh, I took the bus.”
“Get in, then!” Quinn shouted. Rachel nearly dove into the car, and was thrown back against her seat as Quinn jammed the gas pedal downward, upshifting rapidly. Rachel grabbed for the safety belt, but couldn’t find it.
“Excuse me?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“What?”
“Where is the restraining belt located?”
Quinn snorted. “You’re joking, right? Just find something to hang onto, sweetheart - this might get hairy.” Two police cars pulled up to block the intersection they were screaming toward. “Correction - this will get hairy. Hang on!” she hit the brake, sending the back end of the car fishtailing toward the police cars before hitting the gas again and using the sidewalk to get around the patrol cars. Rachel couldn’t bring herself to look at the speedometer, but she estimated they must be doing a hundred miles per hour as they got back on the road. Quinn’s eyes darted back and forth, analysing the traffic patterns and diving in and out at will. The sudden blinking lights of a police roadblock - spike belts and all - in front of them made Quinn curse.
“Fuck! Hold on, hold on!” she spun the wheel and dropped the parking brake into place, spinning the car a hundred and eighty degrees, and nearly tipping them sideways at the apogee of the turn. Releasing the brake, she sped off in the other direction, leaving the roadblock behind them. She looked at Rachel, a manic grin on her face. “Do you trust me?”
“I - I guess so,” Rachel answered.
“Then keep your head down,” she advised as she turned sharply left. Rachel let out a small scream as she saw that they were going to drive off the side of an overpass where the guardrail had been destroyed, and put her head between her knees. The car seemed to be airborne forever, although it was likely only a few seconds, and then there was a tremendous impact as it landed on the lane three feet below them. Quinn stepped on the gas again, and they were on their way.
“Where are we going?” Rachel asked, when she braved opening her eyes again.
“Parking garage,” Quinn said tersely. “I need to get off the road, switch vehicles. I’ll get you home, don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” Rachel murmured. “Not just for that, I mean - for taking me in the first place.”
“Hey,” Quinn waved a hand, and in the dim light Rachel was almost sure she was blushing, “no sweat. Couldn’t let the cops pick you up, right?”
That was the end of the conversation until they were safely parked in what looked for all the world like an abandoned parking structure. “Come on, new girl,” Quinn said, “this way.”
“Could you please stop calling me that?” Rachel asked indignantly as she got out of the car.
“What should I call you?” Quinn grinned over her shoulder.
“Rachel.”
“Rachel, then,” she beckoned her. “Over here.” She approached what could only be a motorcycle, under a camouflage tarp, and whipped the tarp off. Rachel didn’t know the first thing about motorcycles, but it was unmistakably top of the line. All black, the machine looked sleek and deadly. Quinn tossed her a helmet.
“I’ve only got the one,” she apologised. “Better you wear it than me.”
“Wait, you want me to ride that with you? That’s insane.”
“Well, unless you know where to get a bus around here, I think it’d be a good idea.”
Rachel thought for a moment and shrugged, admitting defeat. She watched Quinn mount the machine and tried clumsily to follow suit. Once she was seated, she looked down at the bike in confusion. “What exactly do I hold on to?”
“Me,” Quinn said, without looking back. “Just make sure you lean when I lean, okay?” Rachel looped her arms around Quinn, enjoying the feeling of closeness and the scent of her hair. “Uh, Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“Any chance you could grab my waist instead of my tits? I mean, it’d be a more fun ride, but it’s kind of distracting.” Rachel blushed to the roots of her hair and re-adjusted her grip. “Much better.”
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“We’ll be racing again next week, hopefully sans cops,” Quinn said when the motorcycle had stopped in front of the Berry house. “Wanna come?”
That was a loaded question, Rachel thought. “Sure,” was the answer out of her mouth before she was even sure what she was going to say.
“See you there,” Quinn grinned, donning her helmet and letting Rachel dismount before speeding away.
Hiram was waiting up when she got in.
“Did you have a good time, Rachel?”
“Sure,” she said dazedly. “It was great.”
“I’m glad - did you make any friends today?”
“I think so,” Rachel said dreamily. She stopped short, though, as she saw the file on the table. “What’s that?” she pointed.
“Oh, that’s your father’s latest case. Some kind of smuggling ring, I think. How come?”
“No reason,” Rachel muttered, staring at the photo of Quinn. “No reason at all.”