The Rain Began to Fall (7 page)

“Hey,” he replied,
waving. “How’s it going?” He walked to the back aisle and picked up a bottle of
octane booster. As he approached the counter, she put on her sexiest smile, her
cheeks flushed rosy red. He returned her smile, placing the bottle on the
counter.

“So does this
stuff really give your car more power?” she asked, picking up the bottle.

“Yeah,” he
answered. “And I’ll need it tonight.” He had taken out his wallet and was
holding it open, prepared to pay, but she was extending their visit as long as
possible.

“What for?” she
quizzed, as she leaned further over the counter. This motion flared open the
low cut v- neck of her sweater and provided him with a better view of her 38
D’s. He did his part, his eyes automatically wandering to her boobs, then back
to her face. She was definitely top heavy.

“Let’s just say I’m
going to be driving fast,” he answered. Driving fast with him sounded like fun
to her. Then putting it in park somewhere. Her eyes opened wider and she
grinned.

“You’re going to
race down on Summerville road aren’t ya?” she guessed.

“So you know about
it, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve been
out there a couple of times,” she said. “It’s fun! I’d
love
to watch you
race tonight!  But I don’t get off until late.” She continued staring at
him with a measured, suggestive gleam in her eyes. “
Eleven O’clock
, to
be exact.”

He didn’t miss her
animated cue, but he didn’t respond. She continued staring at him, and the
moment of silence stretched out. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be closing
the store with you and miss it all if you don’t ring me up soon,” he said
finally.

“Oh, sorry,” she
replied, and hurriedly rang up his purchase. He paid her, and she started to
sack the octane booster. He waved it off.

“Don’t bother,” he
said. “I’m about to dump it and junk it.”

“Why don’t you
stop back by and let me know how you did?” she asked as he went toward the
door.

“I might just do
that,” he responded. “See ya.”

He went to his
car, screwed off the gas cap and poured the booster in. After tossing the empty
in the trash can, he climbed into his car, fired it up and peeled out, waving
behind his head as he left the parking lot. He knew the red head would be
watching.

# # #

He found
Summerville road without a hitch. The long, straight stretch of asphalt was
dimly lit, and on either side, tobacco farm land stretched for miles. It
reminded him of Sheldon road back in Tennessee, and he immediately felt at
home. He rounded a curve and saw a lot of cars parked on both sides, a few in
the middle of the road facing each other in a circle, idling mean. A motley
group of guys were gathered in the circle, illuminated by the headlights of the
vehicles.  He recognized Wade and Billy, and a couple of others from
Falstead. He pulled up close and put it in park, but didn’t kill the engine. He
got out, and noted a ’72 Cuda, a Charger and a Camaro, all mirror shined,
looking tough and built to fly.

“Hey, you
did
show up!” Wade hollered over the noise of the engines. He approached with
Billy, of course, in tow.

“Oh ye of little
faith,” Kyle responded.

“Whut?” Wade
inquired, with that quizzical, frustrated expression only the delusional
illiterate can sincerely produce. He looked ready to fight over a possible
insult.

“I said,” Kyle
hollered over the noise, “this must be the place!” Wade’s face relaxed, and his
expression morphed into one of mental superiority.

“Whatever gave you
that idea, Sherlock?” he responded, elbowing Billy. Billy yuk -yukked at his
hero’s wit. Kyle watched this with great amusement.

“You got me!” he
responded, pointing a finger at him and grinning. Wade eyed him suspiciously.

“So, you ready to
put it to the test?” he asked. The entire group now noticed his arrival and
turned to look at him, the new kid in town. A few wandered over to inspect his
Nova.

“Yeah. What are we
running?” Kyle asked, while bending down to feel the pavement.
Good surface
he
thought,
for a remote area
.

“Quarter mile,”
Wade answered. “We draw names to see who races who.” He produced a slip of
paper and a pen. “Write your name and throw it in the hat. Eight cars here
ready to roll.”

Kyle scribbled his
name and tossed it in.  As Wade shuffled the hat and began passing it
around, Kyle looked at the large crowd, groups of guys and girls all eagerly
anticipating the races.  He saw coolers on the tailgates of a couple of
trucks, and cans of beer being turned up. When the hat made it to him, he drew
and unfolded the piece of paper.

“Who you got?”
Wade asked.

“Scary Gary.”

“You’re a real
funny guy, huh?”

“I have my
moments,” Kyle replied, as a tall, skinny guy with a pimply face stepped up.

“I’m Gary,” he said.
“Looks like we do it first, man. What do you have under the hood?”

“Four-twenty
seven, big block,” Kyle answered. “Four-forty six pack for you, right?”

“Damn straight,”
Gary replied, with a broad, semi toothless smile. His smile said that he was
pretty confident he would stop Kyle before he got started tonight. Kyle had
other plans. He walked away from Gary, got into his car, and drove down the
quarter mile stretch. At the end of the stretch, he saw the guy holding the
flashlight who would signal the winner. Kyle cruised back to the starting line,
and with his window rolled down, he peaked up at the sky. It was a clear,
beautiful spring night, a million diamonds twinkling in the heavens.

Gary was already
sitting in the starting position, idling and revving his engine. Kyle pulled
alongside and revved his own engine loudly. He looked over at the Charger, and
saw the body of the vehicle vibrating from the power under the hood. He was
familiar with that particular model, and knew it was one fast pony. “But not as
fast as you baby,” he said, patting the dashboard. He felt the excitement that
always came to him when he was about to race; besides the moments when he was
in a creative groove, writing a story, there was nothing that lit his fuse
more. He loved the competition, the smells of oil and gasoline, the speed.

A guy walked up
and stood between them on the centerline of the road, flashlight raised above
his head. Kyle heard the Charger rev up high and hold, engine screaming. He put
his right hand on the Mickey shifter and revved his own engine to the max. The
noise was deafening as the Chevy 427 and Charger 440 split the night air open,
and then the light came down. Kyle got the jump off the starting line, half a
car length, and he held it all the way. The Charger tried mightily to catch
him, but it wasn’t enough as Kyle crossed the finish line first. He cruised
down the road a bit, letting his Nova wind down from the exertion of the race,
then braked and turned around.  A couple of cute, scantily dressed girls
gave him thumbs up and cheered as he cruised back.
Everybody loves a winner,
he thought.
At least for awhile
.  He saw that the next two cars to
race were already at the starting line; the ’70 Boss Mustang 351 and Camaro
Z-28, a 396 under the hood. He was rolling slowly along when he saw a familiar
red Porsche parked on the side of the road. Sitting on the hood with her arms
folded against her, like a perfect ornament, was a girl he wanted to get to
know very well. He pulled up and climbed out.

“Glad you could
make it,” he said, smiling and ruffling his hair.

“I said I would
come, didn’t I?” She rubbed her hands together, both because of nerves and the
slight coolness of the evening. He looked her all over; her short skirt, sexy
legs for miles, and firm breasts underneath her tight sweater. His blood was
hot from the race, and seeing her now made it boil. She slid down off the hood,
and the action caused her skirt to hike up, exposing her high inner thighs. She
smoothed her skirt, and leaned back against the hood, placing both hands behind
her. The pose pushed her chest out, for dramatic effect. It worked; Kyle wanted
to pounce on her.

“So how did you
do?” she asked. “I just got here.”

“Took him by a
length,” he responded, his eyes dancing and sparkling.

“I don’t suppose
you’re surprised.”

“Well, you never
know, but I was pretty confident,” he responded with a grin.

“Now
that’s
an understatement, isn’t it?” she replied, laughing.

Her soft lips,
sparkling with gloss, beckoned him as she spoke, and the urge to kiss her
right
now
, to hell with timing, was very strong. His vivid imagination played the
scene of how he would run his hands through her long blonde hair, while kissing
her, and then lift her up onto the hood, placing his hands on her perfect
thighs…

The Mustang and
Camaro roared off the starting line, the noise momentarily diverting his
attention. She studied his profile while his head was turned to watch the race.
How devastatingly handsome he was! She was so undeniably attracted to him,
but it was human nature to appreciate beauty, and be curious of the unknown,
wasn’t it? On the drive over, she had spent some serious mental energy
evaluating her situation; thinking about her mother’s story, Kyle, and her
engagement. Her tale had been a remarkable comparison, but she knew one could
find ways to justify and support almost anything. Yes, Kyle was sexy and
exciting, “brash and bold”, in the vein of her father in the story, but she
couldn’t give the same weight to her mother’s Chris as she did to her Gene. She
and her fiancé had been through much more, and the world they lived in was much
more complicated than those simpler times of her mother’s day. All things
considered, she determined Kyle was an infatuation, and nothing more. And
though the hottest and brightest of flames, they were short lived and soon
burned out. Yes, she was engaged and would marry Gene Sykes, her lifelong
companion and friend. This, with Kyle, was dancing around that flame, and she
was at least honest enough to admit that to herself. And, she had successfully
reasoned, there was nothing wrong with some minor, harmless flirting before she
settled into her future.

After determining
the winner, he turned his attention back to her, shifting closer, and as he did
the lapel of his leather jacket brushed the tip of her breast. When she felt
the contact, the physical reaction within was immediate and intense.  He
moved up against her, his face was now very close to hers, and as he stared
longingly and deeply into her eyes, he felt desire for her like nothing he had
ever experienced before. Leigh’s heart hammered away, feeling his chest against
hers, and her face burned hot with her own surging want. As he smiled slightly,
knowingly, her eyes drifted helplessly down to his lips. With her eyes focused
like a laser beam on his mouth, she jerked ever so slightly toward him, her
lips, like a magnet, drawn to his. A voice of protest was sounding somewhere
inside, but it was faint, and she suppressed it. 
It’s okay, it’s okay,
it’s harmless, just fun
.

“Leigh,” he
whispered heavily. His cool plan of restraint was entirely forgotten in the
heat of the moment. He reached up and gently cupped the side of her face,
staring into her eyes. She felt a tingling sensation up and down her back as he
leaned forward, his lips now barely an inch away from her own, and closing.
He’s
going to kiss me
! she thought, breathing faster, and a lightning fast
thought, the kind of which we are always amazed later that we had time to
think, flashed through her mind:
What will this mean
?
What will it
change
? But her unstoppable desire for him in the moment was stronger than
any other concern in her life. She closed her eyes, ready.....

“Hey man!” a voice
barked loudly behind them. Kyle, just a hair’s breadth away from her lips,
breathed out frustration through his clenched teeth. Her eyes flew open, in
them the bewilderment of one caught in emotional limbo. He turned around. It
was Gary, the guy he had just beaten.
Great timing buddy
, he thought,
with considerable disappointment.

“Yeah, what?” he
responded. Leigh folded her arms against herself, looking down.

“I guess you got
braggin' rights
this
time,” Gary said, turning up a bottle of Rolling
Rock beer. He wiped his mouth with his dirty sleeve. “You got a Mickey shifter
in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought so. Won’t
be easy from here on man.”

“We’ll see,” he
responded shortly, attempting to give him the bum’s rush.

But it didn’t
work. He stuck around talking long enough to ruin the moment. Unnoticed by
Kyle, Gary graced Leigh with a wink and a toothless smile in the course of the
conversation. It made her nauseous. As he droned on, she walked off a few paces
and turned inside herself. Her level of excitement when he was about to kiss
her had been off the charts, even more so than earlier today, and she now
wondered if she could really control things. Would it still be just for fun
after they kissed? Would he remain a simple infatuation to her? What if she
wanted more?

As the guys talked
and she pondered, the Camaro had beaten the Boss Mustang, and the 454 Chevelle
lost to the driver of the Barracuda 440. Wade was in the process of starting
his race against the 442 Olds. His 427 Impala sounded ferocious at the starting
line, and both Kyle and Gary now turned to watch.

“That’s a bad
machine ole Wade is driving there,” Gary said, then looked back at Kyle for his
reaction to this statement. Kyle thought it was too, and that he would be very
hard to beat, but his expression gave nothing away.

“We’ll see,” he
responded.

“Well, you’re next
man,” Gary said. “If you draw somebody other than Wade, you might hang in
there. Either way, he’ll get you in the end, buddy.” He laughed and produced a
loud belch, then walked away.