𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 ˣ 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃 | ᵃʳˡᵉᶜᶜʰⁱⁿᵒ, ᶠᵘʳⁱⁿᵃ

1: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙖𝙨𝙩

It has been a day since the race. It's afternoon, and usually I'd be messing with my car and checking if it's in a safe condition to drive. Though, because of the damage that stupid ant-car did to my precious baby, it's now stuck in a car workshop till repaired. The mechanic didn't specify when I can retrieve it so I'll go back there... Probably, two days later.

I also sent my dad's Toyota AE86 to the workshop to get its parts changed. I haven't touched that masterpiece for a long time, it's natural that some parts in it will be clunky after few years of no usage. So, with no car to mess around with, I spent time cleaning my apartment. Boring but it passes time. Before I knew it, I have nothing else to do anymore other than blankly watch the uninteresting channels on my tv.

That is until I notice that card resting on top of the coffee table. I must have just threw it there last night when I got home.

Curious with nothing to do, I picked it up and went over to the land phone next to the tv and dialed the number.

To my surprise, my call got picked up immediately.

A gruffly voice called out.

"Hello?"

I stammer, "Sorry, I didn't expect someone would actually pick up."

"Oh... Oh no worries— wait. Your voice..."

"Hm?"

"Are you ___ Vargaz? The street racer?"

Hearing my name all of the sudden, I shift. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm a fan. I didn't actually expect the referee to give my card to you last night-"

Oh... So it's just a fan, huh, I thought it was someone important. The card looked pretty regal so I thought it was something fancy. Turns out it's just a fan, that thought is pretty cute.

Shaking my head off, not entirely disappointed, I responded. "Well..." I look back down to the car and read out the name. "Dainsleif, I didn't expect you to be fan. This card looks like a business card to be honest."

"Huh... It is a business card."

I failed to make a joke.

As much as I want to hang up to save myself from any further self-embarrassment, the morality of being a polite person refrained me doing so. With that thought in brain, I clear my throat, "Well..." Think! Brain, think! Don't let dead air come in!

"..."

My shitty socializing skill is making itself known again.

I was about to speak to get rid of the growing awkwardness of the conversation when he suddenly asked if we could meet up. Confused and alarmed, I denied it, what soon followed after that is long minutes of him trying to explain why he spoke of those words.

In summary, Dainsleif wanted to meet up because apparently, he can help me in my racing career.

I don't have plans to street race anymore yet, I agreed to the meet up. At least I had something to do for today other than sitting around.

So now, we're at this coffee shop. I was treated with a brewed black coffee by man. And when we finally conversed, I find out that he's actually a businessman that own some kind of team. Though to my distaste, Dainsleif is offering me a job as a driver.

"I've made it clear that I am not interested in racing anymore."

"No no, not street racing. What I am referring to is professional."

What a way to make me think that I didn't have a professional career. Thank you.

I stopped stirring my coffee, finding myself more focused on the beverage than the conversation. I look up to the blonde man and curled a brow. "What then, NASCAR?"