The Sopranos: Caliper Story

EPISODE SIX (Part Two)

EPISODE SIX (Part Two)

~~~

The lining up begins. I led my crew onto the track, our cars roaring as we slowly settled into our places on the road. Across from me to my left was Damien in his silver Audi Lemans Quattro. 

      Like beads of a necklace, his crew parked in a straight line right behind each other, the same for my crew. Whites against silvers.

      There weren’t as many lights as there would be in a traditional city race, but the crowd behind carried sparklers and glow sticks and all kinds of flashy things while they whooped and hollered.

      Starting the tradition, I open my door and stand beside my Agera. Ryan comes out of his vehicle behind me, and my crew does the same down the line.

     The silver Audi’s door opens and Damien stands with his chin held high and arms crossed against his chest, then his crew does the same. They looked like an organized army. Uniform colors even in the clothes they wore: gray trench coats and black leather gloves.

      It gave me time to examine their design. Their symbol was a large compass that pointed only to a capital N. So this was North Star and their leader. Damien had a strong jaw, a firm attractive face. He was definitely built, and his expression built for intimidation. So I do the same.

      I stare into his eyes fiercely. There was a nine foot space in between us, but I knew he responded when I squinted. 

      “How do I know you’re the real Sopranos?” Damien asks, raising a challenging eyebrow.

     I smirk, slowly sashaying towards him. With my heeled boots, I was able to get around his height, so I stood as close as I could possibly get. He wasn’t resisting the closeness. He looked me up and down and smiled alluringly.

     There were lights in the distance and sure enough, there it came. One of the fakes, riding in what used to be Jess’ Ford’s color. It rode towards us, and zoomed in between our line of vehicles so fast that I felt as if I would fall onto the ground.

      And there, I challenged him. Surely he saw the poorly drawn Soprano logo on the phony Ford. “You believe us now?”

      It took a minute. He watched as the Ford zoomed away. In the corner of my eye, I could see Jess and Courtney whispering, angling their necks to watch the Ford drive away. I guess they felt odd since the real Ford was sitting right behind her, and definitely in a different color.

     Damien faces me and nods, taking my hand in a brotherly slap hold. “Nice to meet the real you.” And he smiled, he actually smiled.

     “We need to work together.” I blurted out. Since we knew they were here, there was no time left for pleasantries. “As soon as the crowd is done mooning over us, we need to stand guard in every sprouting road from this one. We need to cover a lot of ground.” I whisper in his ear over the din of the crowd. “We can keep each other’s crew member safe during the race. And if anyone comes down the line, we can come out of our stations and prevent an accident.” I pull away. “Understand?” I ask him.

      There was a sparkle in Damien’s eye and he nods. “You know what you’re doing. I like that.”

      I nod once and turn around to get back to my crew. I smiled at Ryan. This accident was not going to happen again. Not with more of us looking after each other.

~~~

Our white pearls of vehicles turn right, exiting the line while Damien and his crew leave turning left. As we pass Ryan’s vehicle which was left in the line, we all gave him our good lucks either through smiles or nods.

      But I was dead serious, and I had no time to smile or nod. I led my crew and North Star away. As we rode around the crowd, Damien flashes hand signals at me. He jerks his thumb to his right and we both nod. They were going to take the roads on the left and us on the right.

      “We’re going right people.” I said through our intercom. “Ryan’s gonna be fine.” My throat croaked, and I said it more to Courtney than the rest of us.

     We were like patrolling cop cars, hiding in the adjacent roads, watching over the mother road where Ryan was settled in. 

     As soon as the flag girl’s shoes hit the asphalt, the competitors get in their vehicles, and I spot Ryan getting into his white Chevrolet Camaro. Everything seemed darker through my black window tints and I sit back into my low ride.

      I flick the signal lights a few times, and across from me, headlights go off a couple of times. It was Damien’s Audi. We were stationed across from each other and nearest the starting line.

      The crowd got their phones ready for taking pictures and recording which made my blood pump. 

     “Wait, what kind of race is this?” Jess asks through the intercom.

     “It’s just a sprint. No lap. Whoever gets to the end, wins.” I said, and as soon as I click off, Courtney clicks on.

     “Who’s he going up against?” She asks,

      I check my phone and look at the line-up. “Mattan Farley.” I say, 

      Courtney clicks her tongue and says, “Damn, he’s hot.”

      North Star was wealthier than I’d expected, what with Ryan’s dueling partner riding in a silver 2013 SRT Viper. It was as if he was the boss and not Damien. It made me glad I rode in my 2013 Koenigsegg Agera R. I can be a bit of a show-off too.

      The flag girl appears out of the crowd, carrying a bulky red suitcase that I was sure carried money. She stops at the vehicles’ bumpers and briskly turns around with one twist of her body.

      She holds the briefcase across her chest, signaling the beginning of the race. The crowd grew louder at the sight of her flat stomach. But Ryan didn’t seem to notice as he revved his engine, one hand on the steering wheel as if he was posing.

     His Camaro has a lot of modifications, but going up against a new Viper model was sure to be a challenge.

     I could see Ryan through his windows, he shakes his head, commanding his bangs to the side. Bet Courtney swooned for that.

     When Ryan and Mattan zoom away, I won’t be able to see them. We can’t, by all means, interrupt anything. We’re only here to clog up any other routes the fakes can take.

     And apprehend when it calls for it.

     The flag girl removes one hand from the suitcase, and as soon as she drops the suitcase onto the ground, both cars were off.

     “Whoo! That’s my boyfriend!” Courtney shamelessly shrieks. I stifle a chuckle.

     It looked like Mattan Farley’s Viper had faster acceleration. Ryan’s Camaro may also be a muscle, but new is new, and faster is faster.

     I lean on the steering wheel, peeking out of my passenger’s window where I could see both cars shrinking in the horizon the farther they got until they were out of range.

     The next sprouting road was a mile away, and stationed there was Court and her white Porsche. There was nothing left but to sit and wait.