Spinning Out

Chapter 4

ELIJAH

I lean against Tommy's truck on the outskirts of the car meet. It's summer, but cooling down out here in this beach city. I drove for forty-five minutes to get here and while there are a lot of cool cars, it just doesn't feel the same without Bryant. That asshole didn't return my text about tonight. I set my hat on the hood slip my sweater on, then return it to my head backward since the sun went down hours ago. These things never get going until well after 9pm.

"We're going to go check out a few. You coming?" Tommy asks. His girlfriend of the week is hanging on to his side.

"Nah, I'm going to hang here for a minute. I'll catch up," I wave them on their way. I hate being a third wheel.

There's a pretty sweet 1950 Chevy 3100 dropped I want to check out. It's not here to race, but it's impressive. I'm about to push off and head over when something—or should I say someone—catches my eye. I wasn't expecting to see her again. And I for sure would have never guessed I'd see her in a place like this.

I chuckle to myself. I love a mystery. I watch as she circles a car a few feet away from me. Her long brown hair is up in a ponytail and she has a very serious expression on her face. I can see the concentration from here. She's not here for fun, she's studying. What the fuck? I watch her run her finger along the car when no one is watching. Does this girl have a weird fetish for car parts or something? Maybe I misjudged her. She grimaces and rubs her dirty fingers on her jeans. Ok, no fetish. She's a rookie. I laugh and head over to her.

She's making her way to the owner of the car that couldn't be more excited to see this hot girl interested in his work. I hang around the engine, more curious than I've ever been to see how this is going to play out.

"This is a really cool car," she tells him.

"Thank you. It's a 2011 Nissan 350Z," the guy tells her.

It's a slow car. It won't get him anywhere fast, but some guys here like it because it's rear wheel drive.

She walks around to the back. It's an interesting move because the engine is in the front and the car has nothing spectacular to see back there. I watch her face as she seems to inspect every inch, but casually. What's this girl up to?

In the hospital, her mask had covered her face so I was unable to see the stitches in her cheek. She has a few of them below her deep, brown eye. I'm not the only one watching her. The owner is curious too, but in her, not her behavior.

"These tires look brand new," she says with a little giggle.

My eyes squint with suspicion. That's an odd observation.

"I just changed them. Do you come to shows a lot?" he asks.

She only shrugs in response. When she looks up from the tires her eyes meet mine. She freezes for a second. I smile and lift one brow.

"We have to stop running into each other like this," she says.

"I don't mind it so much," I reply.

The car owner looks between the two of us a little deflated. Sorry bro.

"Didn't know you were into cars," I say, still not so sure that's the case.

"New hobby," she says matter-of-factly, lifting herself up onto her tip-toes and peering above the crowd to spot another car. She moves in the direction of the unknown target without a word. I follow. She's locked onto it with laser focus. But what is it exactly? This new car we are zooming towards at an Olympic speed-walking pace has nothing in common with the last one. I'm racking my brain for commonalities.

She bumps into a man with a hotdog. "Sorry," she says.

He looks at me angrily. I hold up both hands, one of which is still partially in the soft cast, and shrug. I have no idea what's going on. I have to jog to catch up.

"Um, what's the rush?" I ask.

"Lots of cars, little time." She looks both ways as we cross the lot. It's full of people and not a lot of moving cars so we are in the clear. She does a hot lap around the parked car looking at the body like an accident inspector. This chick is super weird, but I'm kind of into this energy. I don't know what mission she is on, but now I'm invested.

She hangs out at the back of the car, scoping out the rear tires. I'm at a loss. Finally, her head pops up and she looks puzzled. "Why aren't their tires bald?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I've seen videos of these cars online spinning out at the street take-overs. How are their tires not bald?" she asks.

"Because they change them out right after," I answer.

"So, I'm not crazy," she says under her breath.

"To be determined," I reply under mine.

She takes a minute to look at the car, but I don't think she's really looking at it. Her breathing is shallow and she's been staring at the same spot on the back panel forever. It's like she's trying to figure something out.

"Hey, are you ok?" I ask.

"Yea. I guess that makes a lot of sense. I'm new to this and I'm trying to learn fast," she places her hands on her hips and tips her head back with her eyes closed. She stretches her neck from side to side as if there is tension she's trying to relieve. It reminds me that my own arm is aching from the long week of work.

"Let's grab a soda and sit down for a minute. I can probably answer a few other questions for you. I know a thing or two about cars," I offer.

Her eyes meet mine and as cheesy as it sounds in this moment, I might do anything for her. It's like a rush of something hits me right in the gut. She laughs softly and nods her head. Her finger gently touches her stitches and I wonder if they are bothering her.

"I don't know if I want to know about cars as much as I want to know about the clubs and the drivers," she tells me.

"Well," I say, a little desperate to keep her around longer, "I know a thing or two about them also." I point in the direction of the food trucks. "I'll buy you a soda. And if you're hungry and daring, a taco."

"Sounds amazing," she answers.

As we turn to walk towards the truck, I notice the way she pulls her arms in closer to herself and wraps them around her body. Now that she isn't rushing from car to car, she's cold. I don't even know this girl's name, but I'm about to offer her my favorite hoodie.

"I'm Elijah, by the way," I say as I hand her my hat to hold and slip my sweatshirt over my head.

"Jaina," she replies. She trades me back my hat for the hoodie and sighs as soon as she's inside it. "Thank you so much. I didn't realize how cold it was going to be. I came straight from the hospital."

I want to ask her who she is visiting there, but I don't want to push in case it's a sad story. Instead, I just nod and keep us moving in the direction of the beckoning scent of delicious tacos and a few more moments with her. 

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