Trying to run in my heels isn’t a good idea, but not trusting that Zak will wait for me I have to run to try and catch up. Turning the corner I come to a standstill when I notice what car Zak is about to climb into.
“That’s the Porsche 911 GT3, RS model with 500BHP and goes from 0-60 is 3.2seconds” I say frozen to the spot while admiring the orange beauty.
“That’s if it’s from the production line. How do you know so much about this car?”
“I am related to Tommy and my dad is Elliott Walker. Did that slip your pretty little brain?” I nervously grin at him as I realise what I have just said.
With a smirk on his face, he climbs into the orange beauty and turns the engine on, and what a beauty it is. Getting all giddy I practically bounce over to the passenger door, swinging it open and as I’m about to jump in, I realise I can’t. The car has been modified with scaffolding, like a proper race car.
“How do you expect me to get in there?”
“Sit on the cross member and swing your legs in” with a massive smile on his face
Looking down at my skirt, thankful I put on my lace panties that morning, I hoist my skirt up further than any due-to-be-married lady should, especially with a stranger, and climb over the cross member and slide into the seat as gracious as the situation will allow. Noticing his hand come from underneath me, he puts something on the dashboard, and tells me to buckle up.
Reaching over my left shoulder, looking for the seatbelt, I realise it isn’t there, looking over at Zak, who seems to have a massive grin growing on his face. He reaches over towards me and pulls the straps out from behind my shoulders, I should have known, the car is built for racing, it’s got racing harnesses. He reaches around my hips, I’m sure he just stroked my leg as he did that. He points to the strap dangling down between my legs, I reach for it pulling it up towards the harness but realise my skirt needs to be adjusted so I’m not showing everything off, although at the minute I couldn’t care if I was. Watching as Zak connects the harness together and then tighten the straps, basically pinning me into the seat. I couldn’t help the small moan and the ‘o’ shape of my mouth as he seems to enjoy strapping me in.
He turned back around, I can see the bulge in his trousers straining to be freed, but I won’t let my thoughts take me there. Not tonight and not ever. He seems to be lost in thought for a minute and then blips the throttle bringing the engine revs up then puts his foot down, speeding out of the garage alleyway and onto the main road, but seeing all the traffic he seems to be heading for a short cut, it would be handy if he knew where he was having to drop me off at first.
“What is your name? What’s the address I’m taking you to?” Why does he need to know my name, I thought Tommy would have told him that by now.
“The Estate by the Audi garage” I can walk the 5minutes up the road to my house, don’t want him to see where I live or who I live with. If he found out who the house actually belonged to, he’d run and I’d never see my car again. The Industrial estate Zak’s garage is on, part of it is owned by Martin and he wants to buy out the rest of it, the part that the garage is on and it won’t be left as a garage if Martin could buy it.
“And your name?” Do I tell him? Or do I give him a false name.
“Jasmine, my dad use to call me Jazz and now Tommy does.”
“Nice name, I’m Zak, everyone calls me Zak” smirking to myself as he’s trying to be funny
“I know who you are; Tommy mentioned your name earlier”
The conversation dies quickly between us; maybe it’s from awkwardness or just nothing in common, I stare out the window, watching the buildings go by, not really taking much notice of where we are, just as long as he is taking me to the Audi garage. So glad I’m strapped in when Zak decides to put his foot down and fly across the roundabout, I remember my dad when I was younger, I always asked him to go faster, loved the wind in my hair and was always giggling at him, enjoying the time I spent with him. Suddenly something falls into my lap; it’s what Zak must have picked up from my chair before I sat down. Looking at what I assume to be a document turns out to be tickets of some form. Flipping it over I see in big bold red writing “WELCOME TO RACE WARS” decorated with sports cars on certain drag strips and some small print. Why would he have these? These are for tomorrow in France!
“What are these?” or more to the point I should have asked why does he have these and if he was planning on going, it’s late already, how is he going to make it in time
“That’s my ticket for this weekend’s race wars in France, the spare ticket was for my friend but he pulled out this morning, so going to try and sell it when I get there, make some money back on it”
The French race wars were one of my dad’s favourites to head out to; he seemed to have a lot of friends in the circuit. Although I do remember the French race wars was his last race before he was murdered. The car gang got the wrong garage, he was shot in cold blood on his way home by a gang of car racers who were misinformed about which garage were over charging them and watering down their products. My dad would never have done that, he was well loved by his customers and did an amazing job with the paint jobs and the modifications he did especially for his customers, he always tried his hardest to please the clients and give them the best deals he could.
“So tell me about your dad. Tommy speaks often about him and how good he was in his garage, why didn’t you carry on the business or at least have it handed over to Tommy to continue”
Why does he have to bring the topic of my dad up, I don’t ever speak about him and not to someone I don’t know. I don’t know why but I feel safe to be around Zak and let him know a little about my dad, it has been a long time since he was murdered. Turning to look out the window, staring up at the night sky, hoping my dad is looking down on me.
“My dad was the glue of the family, he worked long hours from first thing in a morning to last thing at night and even on the weekends he would go in. Dad loved working in the garage, maybe he spent too much time there, but it wasn’t just a job to him, it was a hobby, his muse, his life revolved around those cars he did up.”
“So what happened?”
“What does it matter what happened? My dad is dead because of that garage, why would I want anything to do with it or have it still running within the family” I can feel my blood starting to boil. I have divulged too much already to this stranger. I’ve had enough I need out of here, I’ll walk the rest of the way if I have to, or ring someone who won’t ask questions to come pick me up.
“Why are you so angry?”
“Just shut up and let me out, I don’t want to talk about it or even be here with you. I should have phoned my mum to come and get me. Pull up on the corner and let me out, you can then get back to your stupid hobby”
He swerves to the left and comes to a stop by the kerb and I release myself from the harness and with little grace climb out over the cross member and onto the side walk, adjusting my skirt accordingly, I don’t look back as I hear his car screech away. I get my bearings and start to walk down the lane, I know I’m only 15-20minutes away from home so there is no point in ringing anyone, the walk will do me some good, clear my head after my fight with Martin a few hours ago and now this hiccup with a stranger, however I can’t seem to get the image of the stranger as he sat next to me in his truck, he has the most erotic voice I have heard in a long time. Martin never asked about my dad or really anything to do with my past, he isn’t in to cars so we don’t have the common knowledge to talk about them, he just buys the expensive cars with all its gadgets and doesn’t even know how to use most of them, or even if they are worth the price tag on them.
Taking some well needed deep breathes, I try to calm down and get my emotions under control. Seeing the tickets for the race wars has brought back memories of my dad before he went off for the weekends. he had promised when I was old enough he would take me along and introduce me to his friends and once I had got my licence and done some practice I would get to join him properly on the strips.
Thinking back to the talk I had with Zak in the car, I was a bit harsh on him; he was just trying to be friendly, the conversation about my dad has never been a topic I like to talk about and especially in an area I can’t escape from quickly enough. Maybe the fact Zak has a spare ticket, is the sign my dad is trying to give me. It could be this is the break I need to get away from my over protective mother and her billionaire husband and of course away from Martin.
I pulled my heels off and ran the rest of the way home, running through my head how I was going to get a hold of Zak and whether he would let me join him if he hadn’t already left. Running up the drive and into the house, I climb the stairs two at a time and into my room, open my laptop and search the name of the garage that Zak worked at. Pulling up the website I learn he owns the garage after his grandad left him some inheritance, the garage has been up and running for nearly 10years, being one of the best in the town. It looks like the garage is mainly for MOT’s, services and mainstream car fixing. However a side link takes me to what I would call his side line project, it seems he’s trying to set up a modification garage as well, just like my dad’s. I return to the main page and I find two phone numbers, one a house number and the other a mobile. I ring the first one, hoping to catch him still at home, but it rings out, I leave a quick message to say it was me and if he was there to answer the phone. I see a second number on the website, a mobile number, hoping it is his mobile I tentatively press dial.
“Hello?”
“Ermm Zak?”
“Yes, the garage is closed and I’m away all weekend, you will have to ring another garage or wait until I’m back on Monday”
“Ermm it’s Jazz, I mean Jasmine”
“What do you want? How did you get my mobile number? Want to rant some more at me? I was just being friendly and you tried to bite my head off”
“No actually I want to apologise for my behaviour, speaking about my dad is a touchy subject that I don’t like to talk about, especially with a stranger. I found your garage website and it had your mobile number on it”
“Ok, apology accepted. If you don’t mind I’m just about to head out. Have a good weekend.”
“Actually, I was wondering whether I could tag along for the weekend. I’ll pay you for the ticket and any other expenses”
“But you aren’t into cars, are you?”
“Remember who my dad is? I spent every weekend down at the garage with him, helping to build and modify the cars”
“WOW! Sure, if you really want to come, then be ready with a weekend bag in about 15minutes”
“OK, I know I won’t need much. I’ll meet you at the Audi garage in 15minutes”
“Sure, see you soon”
“Bye”
– To Be Continued-
