Triple Digits

Claire Miles

Poor Maddison was not going to be leaving the hospital for some time.
Kicked out of the hospital after visiting hours ended, Claire found herself pacing the parking lot of the Mid-City hospital, unsure of how she was going to get home. She had not thought to bring her wallet, and she'd left her phone for Officer Strickland to use, since his own phone was gone.
She didn't even have any change in her pockets to call a taxi. She'd checked. Twice. The only thing in her jean pockets were two old receipts for food, and an unstamped movie card.
Resorting instead to searching the gutters for enough coins to make a call, Claire kept in careful view of the security cameras around the hospital, glancing over her shoulder every few moments, a sensible amount of paranoia settling over her that every woman felt when alone out at night. There was nobody else in the parking lot, at least, to witness her scrounging in the dirt for coins. But it also meant there was nobody here to see if something terrible happened to her.
After forty minutes of searching, the hospital carpark lights began to methodically switch off, making it too dark for Claire to even consider looking for more coins.
She'd found one five cent coin, and it was filthy enough that she'd had to wipe it on her jeans to find out what coin it was to begin with.
It certainly was not enough to call for a cab.
Taking a seat on a bench, she drummed her fingers on the damp wood, wondering what to do, cradling her broken hand in her lap.
Tonight, it was cold, making her choice of a singlet and jeans not-so-wise, and with no easy way home, and a broken wrist to boot, Claire was beginning to feel a little out of her depth. Her head was still sore and spinning from the concussion, although it was nothing compared to the surgery Maddy needed to drain blood from her skull.
Corey didn't have a phone she could call, Helix was at her house- Would anybody even think to check if she was staying the night at the hospital?
'She could handle this,' Claire decided. She'd been out of her depth ever since fleeing her family home and coming to Mid-City when she was fourteen with nothing but a thick wad of cash. She could do this.
Just as she was beginning to consider walking home, a car rolled to a stop in front of her, the driver rolling the window of his car down, poking his head out and asking, "Miss Miles?"
Claire shot to her feet in fright, only to realise who was parked in front of her, breathing in relief, "Yes?" It was Gregory Dunfield, the police Commissioner who'd nearly fired Strickland.
"Do you have a lift home, Miss Miles?"
Shame made her cheeks turn red, and she bit her lip, mumbling, "No, Sir. I was going to call a cab, but..." She held out her one, meagre coin. Dunfield studied it, saying, "I see... Shall I give you a lift home, Miss Miles?"
"I would very much appreciate it, Sir. I can pay you for the trouble once we reach my apartment."
He shook his head, exiting the car to open the passenger door for her. Claire slid into the heated leather seat, leaning back and sighing in relief, Dunfield waiting until her seatbelt was clicked in to pull smoothly away from the curb, turning onto the road, allowing her to enter her address into his car's GPS.
It directed them onto a common side-road, and Dunfield leaned forward, turning the radio on to fill the awkward silence. What would they even talk about?
Maybe Claire could mention how the recent race had gone, or the guilt eating her up that she'd lied to Strickland? Or how Triple Digit had chosen to donate her winnings to Quickshift's memorial and funeral.
Ha! All of those conversation topics would have her carted off to the police station to be questioned, rather than taken safely home!
And what would Dunfield bring up? His police work? His family?
The last thing Claire wanted to do was get into smalltalk about her family, and especially not with Dunfield.
Looking at the symbol on the steering wheel of Dunfield's car, however, Claire realised there was something she could discuss with him.
"You drive an A-Class Twister?"
That was Claire's first racing car! Helix had bought it for her, from some shady mate he knew. The engine had been altered, allowing her to win her first ever race, and upgrade to the A-Class Titan. She'd won plenty of races since then, earning herself a reputation as being unbeatable.
The announcer at the last race had called her the 'lightning before thunder'.
Dunfield's face lit up in surprise at her recognition of the car, only to remember her second 'job', and he revealed with a smile, "This is my personal car. I have a much more sensible family car at home, a H-Class Deputy." That car wouldn't last a second on the tracks. It was too blocky, and cumbersome. Not to mention its top speed was only one-hundred-and-twenty.
In short- trash.
The Twister, though... This baby was a beast, if driven correctly.
Dunfield, much to her disappointment, drove it sensibly, keeping under the speed limit, stopping on corners- Knowing she was driving with a police Commissioner, Claire kept her mood to herself, scratching at the edge of the cast. There was a terrible itch on her arm that she couldn't reach. Dunfield noticed the movement from the corner of her eye, not-so-subtly asking, "Are you being adequately cared for by Officer Strickland?"
"Corey? He's doing perfectly well," Claire mumbled absentmindedly, turning to stare out the window at the streets going by. Was Maddy's attacker out here?
Would she be next? What if they went back and tried to finish the job on Maddy?
The attacker couldn't have known that Maddison was Triple Digit's pit mechanic. Claire was just being paranoid. They'd hidden their identities perfectly. Claire for five years, and Maddy for three, since meeting Claire and becoming a close enough friend that she was trusted with Claire's alter identity.
"You're on a first name basis now? Good, good," Dunfield replied slowly, "And Miss Birchson?"
Claire couldn't stop her voice from trembling as she said, "She'll live." Maddy was her best friend. If something happened to her... Well, Claire would trade anyone else in the world for Maddy. Someone else could die in her place. Anyone!
Dunfield's car began to slow, the police Commissioner having brought her into the parking lot of her apartment building. Unclicking her seatbelt, she awkwardly handed the police Commissioner the five cent coin she'd found, making the man chuckle, musing, "I never thought I would be a chauffeur."
Wincing apologetically as she stepped out of the car, Claire said, "Thank you for bringing me home, Sir."
"Keep out of trouble, Miss Miles."
Grinning, she winked back at him, promising, "I always do!"
Dunfield waited until she'd entered the building to drive away. The receptionist was back in her own bed, leaving Claire to take the stairs alone.
By the time she reached her apartment, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to bed.
Opening her apartment door, she found Strickland sitting on the couch in a pair of tattered pyjamas, Helix asleep on the floor near his feet, her phone next to him. He looked over when she dragged herself in, kicking her door shut, not bothering to lock it. Not with Corey and Helix here. Strickland was eating a plain cheese sandwich. Judging by the bottle in Helix's hand, he'd found her stash of vodka.
"You had three missed calls," Corey said in way of greeting, holding up a hand to cover his mouth, which was full of food, "I didn't answer them. It was from 'Averie'?'
Fuck.
The word slipped out before Claire could bite her tongue, Strickland looking intrigued as she darted for the phone, tapping her older sister's number and dialling it.
Corey was right. Three missed calls, all of them with voicemails.
Her sister picked up instantly, sounding breathless, like she'd been crying.
"Claire!" She sniffled in distress, "I've been trying to get a hold of you!"
Pinning the phone between her cheek and shoulder, Claire strode over to one of the cabinets in her kitchen, sliding her hand over it, tripping the sensor on it and reaching in for a bottle of whiskey. Not bothering with a glass, she swigged straight from the bottle, Corey wincing.
Gods, don't tell me he wasn't a fan of drinking, either!
Regardless, she would need it for whatever Averie was calling about. Carrying the bottle over to the couch, she took a seat beside Strickland, kicking her shoes off, tossing them over her shoulder, where she heard them thump to the floor, saying, "Sorry, Maddy got into an accident. I was at the hospital. What's up?"
Averie sucked in a sharp breath, asking, "What happened to Maddy?"
"It's fine, just a mechanic thing. She'll be okay." It was better not to tell Averie what was happening in Mid-City right now. She would only insist Claire come home for a couple weeks until it blew over, and she couldn't do that.
Very few things would drag her back home, short of someone dying- "Grandma Charlene has passed away. It happened about an hour ago. I'm sorry, Claire."
Claire froze, the bottle midway to her lips, and Strickland looked over in alarm at the choked sound she made a second later, unable to form a response. A wave of grief hit hard enough that Claire could do nothing but blink, suddenly unsure that she'd heard correctly.
She definitely had. Grandma Charlene was dead.
On the other end, guessing at her reaction, Averie was already speaking, "Claire, honey, are you okay?"
No. She wasn't.
"I didn't even know she was sick..." Claire whispered guiltily, fighting back the tears that welled up and threatened to bubble over, Averie reassuring quickly, "None of us did! It wasn't your fault!"
"I should have called! I- Gods, I didn't even answer her phone call last week! I was too busy!" The words were enough that beside her, Strickland was putting the pieces together. He offered her a sympathetic look, offering a hand out for support. To her surprise, Claire found herself grabbing it. He closed his fingers over hers, his hand warm and solid. It was comforting.
Nana Charlene and Averie were the only two people Claire bothered to keep in contact with. Not even her father had that honour.
Her contact was sporadic; a phone call here, a letter there, sometimes a postcard around the holidays or birthdays. She hadn't seen Charlene since she'd left home. Averie, she'd seen once, when her sister drove up to Mid-City not long after Claire had left to make sure she was settled in. Claire shouldn't have ignored Charlene's phone call last week. Maybe she could have spoken to her one last time.
"Look, I know you don't want to come home, but-"
"There's going to be a funeral," Claire said flatly, almost too numb to muster any emotion, even grief, Averie parroting, "There's going to be a funeral. Claire, if you can't do it, I would understand. Nana Charlene would have, too."
Toying with the whiskey bottle, Claire took another swig for courage, mumbling, "When is it?"
"Sunday. Serena and dad have it all planned out. I wanted to call you and let you know before they did." Nana Charlene must have had it planned out in her will. It was too fast for a normal funeral.
Then again, with how her parents were, there was a good chance her mother had simply chosen the cheapest, worst shit she could find, thrown it together, and called it a funeral.
"Am I even invited?" Claire huffed a dull laugh, Strickland squeezing her fingers. He had no idea about her family, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out from her words.
"You are. I asked." For Averie to have called either of them to ask... Her sister loved her, there was no doubt about that.
Steeling herself, she sighed, "I'll be there. I'll need to book a plane ticket." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Claire debated keeping the winnings from the race to help pay for it. She wasn't strapped for cash, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to have some extra in her wallet when she flew back to Redwood City.
In a poor attempt to find a bright side, Averie gently suggested, "I'm sure dad will be happy to see you again." Scoffing, Claire rolled her eyes and muttered, "He'll be the only one. Do you have any good news for me, Aves?" Just her luck! She hadn't wanted to think about her family, and now she had to go back to see them?! Was Grandma Charlene's death because of Claire's wish to swap someone, anyone's, life for Maddy's?
Now she just felt even guiltier, despite it being nonsense. Still, she couldn't help the thought that it might have been a little bit her fault.
"Lindsay has a new job. I've moved into her apartment. We have a cat together."
Smiling, Claire released Strickland's hand, settling deeper into the couch. This was a much easier conversation to face. Lindsay was Averie's longtime girlfriend. It was nice to hear that everything was going well for them.
"A cat? What's its name? Please tell me you gave it a normal name!" Her sister was known for being a little more eccentric, especially when it came to naming her animals. Growing up, Averie had been the loving owner of Tomato the Turtle, Cotton the Bird, Bullshit the Rat, and numerous fish given names that ranged from historical figures to household appliances. Like Toaster, the goldfish who'd lasted a week, before jumping out of his own tank.
Averie couldn't figure out why a goldfish named Toaster would want to die. Claire had a pretty good guess about it.
Corey rose from the couch, tripping over Helix and landing on the floor with a 'BANG!' that echoed down the line, Averie questioning curiously, "What was that noise?" She gasped suddenly, adding excitedly, "Do you have a roommate?!"
"Two, currently. Helix is currently passed out on my floor." Claire nudged her friend with her foot. He remained where he was, snoring loudly.
Corey picked himself up, plucking up the plate, which had remained in one piece, and heading into the kitchen with an apologetic look to Claire, who waved it off.
"Ah, Helix. Some things never change. You said you had two, though. Who's the other?"
"Um..." Claire hesitated, looking to Corey, who motioned for the phone. She handed it over, wondering what he was going to do, only for him to say, "Hi, I'm Corey Strickland. Your..." He trailed off, and Claire mouthed, "Sister."
"Your sister is letting me stay here," he finished with a nod, Corey putting the phone on speaker so Claire could listen. Averie's voice was excited when she replied, "That's wonderful! Claire never had many friends, so it's nice to hear she's making some! Do you know she's a street-racer? Like, how cool is that?" Claire buried her face in her hand, blushing red with embarrassment.
Not that Averie was wrong. She wasn't one for a large friend group. That didn't mean Claire wanted Strickland knowing that.
"I've tried to ticket her plenty of times," Strickland joked lightly, "So yes."
"He doesn't know my race name, Aves, and I'd appreciate it if you kept it that way," Claire cut in before Averie, who knew about the 'Triple Digit' persona, could reveal her.
Strickland would probably lose his mind with excitement to know that the very woman he was hunting down lived in the same apartment as him.
"Obviously!" Averie giggled, "Are you a cop, Strickland? You said you tried to ticket my little sister?" Claire watched Corey smile at the teasing, replying dramatically, "Oh, plenty of times. She drives like a criminal."
"Don't I know it! I've told her to knock it off, that she'll end up flipping her damned car or something equally stupid!" Seeing as her sister would be seeing her in two days, Claire cut in, guiltily revealing, "About that..."
Averie paused, before hissing, "You did NOT!"
"I did. Broken hand and wrist, and a minor concussion. I was doing one-hundred-and-fifty on the road, and hit something." She tactfully left off the bit about the spike strips, since she knew Averie was the level of overprotective to fly down here just to strangle Strickland herself, her sister scolding angrily, "CLAIRE! You could have died!"
"I didn't. I'm fine. Bloody hurt, though. That's why Strickland is here. He's on monitoring duty." She smiled at Corey, who looked a little shell-shocked. He wasn't having flashbacks of the crash, was he?
Hopefully he didn't blame himself. It wasn't his fault.
Okay, it was a little bit his fault, but mostly Claire's. Ninety-nine-percent her fault.
"Monitoring- Gods, I forgot how small of a town Mid-City was. Here in Redwood, they would have sent you on your way with a good luck and a hospital bill worth more than your entire life ten times over."
Claire laughed, grimacing at the accidental reminder. She needed to pay that bill.
Not wanting to risk another scolding, she changed the subject.
"You never told me your cat's name."
"Oh, it's Lavender." Lavender the Cat. It was better than Fork, or Bush, or Kettle.
On the wall, the clock struck midnight, and Corey jolted in shock. It had been a long day.
Tomorrow was going to suck, booking that plane ticket to Redwood, having to fly back alone. Normally, she would take Maddy for support, but her friend wasn't going to be leaving the hospital for weeks.
As if she could read her mind, Averie said, "Aw, Claire, who are you going to bring if Maddy is out for the count?"
Helix would not be a welcome addition for the rest of her family, and while Claire didn't give much thought to their opinions of her, she wanted to create as little trouble as possible. Going back was already stressful without sending her mother into another screaming fit about how Claire continued to ruin the family name.
"Bitch-face is bringing her newest boyfriend. Ugh. They've been together for a week, and already taking a trip to the islands."
Bitch-face was the nickname Averie gave to their sister; Brittani Serrano.
Averie was, technically, only their half-sister, but Claire would sure as Hell claim her before she claimed her full-blooded one.
Thinking herself too good to use the Miles name, her sister opted to use their mother's maiden name, Serrano. She had only just turned eighteen, but it seemed that from the moment she'd been born, she brought nothing but trouble and pain into Claire's life. Only a year behind, it made it impossible to escape her during school. They'd attended the same schools and extracurricular activities outside of school. As Brittani became more and more popular and spoilt, following in their mother's shoes, Claire found herself being slowly driven out.
She became the scapegoat for her sister's mistakes. Brittani tormented her every second she'd gotten; pinching, kicking, tearing up her clothes and books, lying to their mother and teachers about her, making her friends turn on her... By the time Claire was fourteen and ready to run, she hated her sister and parents. Averie had been the only one to help her, having been kicked out two years prior for coming out as lesbian.
"Irresponsible," Claire mumbled absentmindedly. Who was she going to bring with her? She couldn't go alone. Brittani and their parents would tear her apart. She needed a human shield- someone they wouldn't speak poorly in front of.
"Claire, if you don't have anyone to bring, don't come. You know what will happen if you show up alone." Averie's words sounded harsh, but it was nothing more than a fair warning.
Claire hadn't seen her parents in five years. She hadn't seen Brittani in five years. Averie kept her up to date, on the rare occasion that she herself saw them, and from the sounds of recent reports, nothing had improved. Her mother still badmouthed Claire at the dinner table for running. Brittani still mocked her. Her father still sat by and did nothing while it happened.
In the kitchen, where Corey was making up another sandwich, the Officer lifted his head, still half-listening, and offered, "I could come? I'm meant to be monitoring Claire anyway."
Heat flared across Claire's cheeks again, and Averie begged, "Oh, would you? That's so kind! I would be happy to shout half of your plane ticket for the favour!"
Corey nodded like Averie could see her, calling back, "I'll accompany her. It's the least I can do." Only Claire knew what he meant by that. He'd been the one to cause her accident, and clearly, he blamed himself for it.
This was his way of trying to make up for it, but did Claire really want him meeting her family?
His presence would begin a torrent of prying questions about her life.
"I'll get going, Claire. When should I expect you to show up?"
"Night after tomorrow? I'll see what flights I can catch." She would give Helix the keys to the apartment, let him house-sit in exchange for living here.
"Cool. I'll see you then. Bye, Claire!"
Her sister hung up, Corey calmly cutting the sandwich he'd made into quarters while Claire slid low into the couch, clutching the whiskey bottle and dropping her head against her knees, letting out a long, loud groan that had Helix stirring on the floor.
"Your family are that bad?" Strickland asked, carrying the plate over and sitting next to her. She felt him tap her shoulder.
"Worse." Whatever image Strickland had built up in his mind, they were a thousand times worse. She lifted her head to see Corey holding the plate out, having made the food for her.
She took the cheese sandwich gratefully, placing the bottle of whiskey down at her feet, her stomach growling. Lifting one of the pieces revealed a little smiley face drawn on the top slice of bread in sauce. Strickland flushed, following her gaze, and stammered, "I always do it at home when I'm having a bad day. Habit from my own family. My mother used to say that you are what you eat, so if you eat happiness, then you will be happier. Worked a treat when I was a kid."
"It's cute," she mumbled, biting into the first quarter. How long had it been since she'd had a sandwich? Years. It reminded her of school lunches, and carrying her lunchbox across the playground to eat under a tree.
Claire had never eaten a sandwich with a smiley face on it.
"Averie is my half-sister, from my father's previous marriage. She and my Nana Charlene were the only two I kept in contact with after I ran." She didn't like to call it that- running- but that's what it was. She'd fled in the middle of the night. Averie had driven her to the airport, given her the money, and watched her board a flight to Mid-City; the only destination available that late at night.
"Your Nana Charlene is the one that died?" He asked gently, Claire nodding. The guilt returned full-force, making her stomach roil.
"I should have called," she mumbled pathetically, Strickland laying his hand on her shoulder, reassuring, "I'm sure she knew you loved her."
That wasn't the point, but sure.
She washed the sandwich down with another swig of whiskey, eyeing the bottle with derision, like it was the cause of her current problems, muttering, "I'm going to need something stronger."
"Did your sister mention Redwood earlier?"
Oh Gods, here we go. Claire already knew the question that was approaching, having been asked it a thousand times, before she learnt it was better not to tell people where she came from- "What does your family do, if you don't mind me asking? Redwood is notoriously expensive. All upper-class, rich folks."
"There's a reason I didn't want you worrying about my medical bills, Strickland. My mother is in real estate and interior design, and my father was a heart surgeon before his own heart failed." It was a real spanner in the works, his heart attack.
A tad ironic, too, given his previous profession. He'd lived, thanks to the help of his colleagues and sheer, dumb luck.
Corey's eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing other than a shocked, "I see."
Claire supposed she couldn't be annoyed. If Strickland was accompanying her to the funeral, he would have figured out where they were going sooner or later.
Tugging at the sleeve of his hole-filled pyjamas, Claire teased, "I'll have to buy you some nicer clothes." Strickland laughed, the sound nervous, and with a sigh, she said, "If you decide not to come along, it's fine. I wouldn't blame you one bit." If anything, it would help put off an uncomfortable family reunion.
"No, no. I'll come. I should probably get some sleep. I need to interview that girl before we leave." Claire would need to book those plane tickets, too. It would suck, being away from Maddy so soon after the attack, but she knew her friend would understand.
Strickland rose from the couch, reaching back to where she was sitting and patting her awkwardly on the knee, "I'm sorry about your grandmother, Claire."
His words spurred tears to her eyes that she quickly swiped away with the back of her hand, swallowing the lump in her throat and replying, "Thank you. She was a good woman."
Better than her daughter, that was for sure.
When Strickland had entered the guest room where he would be staying, Helix seemingly content to remain on the floor for the night, Claire rose and headed to her own room.
Stripping out of her clothes, she pulled on a nightshirt that reached her thighs, hid under her covers, and let herself cry.