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Not for you (FIN)	By : Naergi Category: 1 through F > Fast And The Furious, The > Male/Female Views: 3460 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Author's note:

I have hidden a partial quote from 'Gone in 60 seconds' in this chapter. Who can find it?

Arriving at the Missouri address didn't help me much. It was a small gasoline station in the middle of nowhere instead of what I would have expected, and nothing parked there even remotely resembled a race car. Had Vince fooled me?

I drove by that station several times taking turns on the cracked road, not really knowing what to do. Eventually I decided that buying some gasoline wouldn't be a bad idea, and so I didn't just drive by but halted my car and trailer at the station.

Imagine my utter surprise when Vince walked out of it, heading towards my car.

"Almost thought you would never stop here," he said.

"Almost thought I was wrong here," I answered, pushing the screen of my baseball cap out of my face so I could see him better.

"If you're looking for Racewars, then, yes, you're wrong here, why," he said, circling my car and rattling the passenger's door handle.

I opened the lock, he opened the door, unceremoniously pushing my maps and parts of my lunch from the seat to the floor of my car before sitting down, letting his legs resting outside the car.

I stared at my steering wheel, then at him. "So... I'm wrong here?" I said, stating the obvious.

"You're wrong here," he answered, inspecting my car's interior, especially the instruments with great interest but without touching anything.

"Uh - so - what now?" I stuttered, not really knowing what he wanted.

"We wait," he said, grinning.

"We wait for what?"

He leaned out a bit, massaging his leg and looking down the dusty road that I had just passed the gasoline station on several times. No answer.

"Uh, Vince, I might sound a bit impatient, but what are we waiting for?" I asked again about five minutes later.

He took another look down the road. "Patience, woman. Patience is a virtue."

"Not my virtue, Vince."

"What are your virtues then?" He asked.

"My virtues, I daresay, are none of your business, Doc."

"See, then my timing to answer your questions is none of your business, either."

I groaned.

"And it's by the way nice that you seem to know many of my names, but I haven't heard a single one of your names yet."

"Giving out my name to someone who doesn't answer my questions is none of my virtues either, Vince."

He chuckled, a short and not very merriful laughter, then continued to massage his leg and stare down the road.

About ten minutes later, during which I tried to hypnotize my car's brand logo on the steering wheel and he was sitting smiling and sideways on my passenger's seat, obviously terribly enjoying the sight of an empty, dusty road, this all finally became ridiculous in my mind.

"VINCE!" I barked. "Would you mind finally telling me what you're waiting for? Or what I'm waiting for?"

He sighed, then put his feet into my car and stared at me intensely. "To answer this question I actually need to see your ID card."

"My what?"

"Your ID card."

My turn to grin. "Sure, if you can read it..." I said, pulling out the German ID card from my wallet and handing it over to him.

He stared at it, frowning, turning it several times.

"That woman there in the picture has black hair. You have blonde hair."

"I'm positive that there are hair dyes available in the US, too."

"You're not from here?"

"In case my car and ID card shouldn't have told you so far, no, I'm not from here. I thought you heard that the other night when we first met?"

"I heard that, but seeing is believing... Dana." He said. "And why are you here in the US with your car?"

"Well, see, I had this funny idea that I could do, you know, some racing here. There was this rumor on the internet that I could find some guys here which are basically unbeaten, and as you just said, seeing is believing."

"Wanted to race anyone in particular?" His eyes sparkled, he was grinning.

"Yes, I had one or two people in mind."

I wasn't aware that the sparkle in his eyes and the grin could intensify, but they did.

"Wanted to do anything more than just racing?"

"Well, seeing the country would be nice I thought. Though I had planned to see the country and not just the countryside, Vince."

"No, I mean, with the people?"

"Yes, I had the idea that talking to some people would also be nice."

"Talking?" He chuckled, handing me back my ID card.

"Yes, talking, you know, like we are doing right now." I took a sip from the Coke bottle in my hand.

He snorted. "It's not perhaps more like so that you would like to bed our Fearless Leader?"

I snorted my drink over the inside of my windscreen. I was - well - surprised perhaps isn't the best way to describe it. Flabbergasted would be more like it. However, I already had practice from the conversations I had with Michael, so...

"The past has taught me that bedding someone is neither good for racing nor for serious conversations, Vince, in fact the first is very contraproductive to the last two from my experience. As I'm more interested in the racing and conversations than in bedding anyone, my answer is no. Plus I don't exactly fancy being torn apart by a Mexican wildcat, if you get my point."

"Mexican wildcat caught herself a Mexican mouse last year and they're now having a little wildcatmouse in Mexico, if that is the only thing you're worried about."

"Is that so? How nice for the... wildcatmouse and its parents. Well, I still don't like the idea to be used for or as something that will soon be forgotten, so the answer is still no."

"Anyone else you're interested in bedding?"

"I knew that you are well known for being straightforward, Vince, but this is getting ridiculous. Still no. Nein, njet, nada, niente, if you need any other languages, and that means uh-uh, in case it should still not be clear."

He chuckled and put his feet back outside, massaging his leg, watching the street. "You were asking what we're waiting for." He finally said, minutes later.

"Yes, I remember that. I still have no answer."

"There comes your answer," he said without looking at the street any more, pointing into the direction where I originally came from.

Some sort of dust cloud was coming towards us. It took me some time to be able to see that there were several cars with trailers approaching. It took them almost ten minutes to reach us, but then the street was crammed with several cars and trailers. And one of the cars I could positively recognize as being Brian's, who then got out, went to another, red car, talked to the driver who I couldn't see, and then walked over to us.

"Playing the Doc again, Vince?" He said, not even looking at me. I pulled the screen of my cap back into my face and watched him from there.

"No, the patient is healthy, no need to play," was Vince's somewhat cryptic answer.

"You drive with... this...," he pointed at my car," or with us?"

"Depends on the patient." Vince said, looking at me questioningly.

"The patient feels that she will have a bad headache if this kind of conversation goes on when driving... wherever," I replied.

"The patient will soon learn that without her Doctor, she might get lost on her way." Vince grinned.

"The Doc will soon learn that the patient is able to read maps," I snapped.

"But the Doc all of a sudden has amnesia and forgotten how to write or speak out addresses."

I groaned.

"Gods, two of that kind. You two finished?" Brian snapped.

"Think so. You just go, I'll drive with... this...," Vince said, putting his legs back into my car, slamming the door shut from the inside. Brian shrugged and walked back to his car.

I stared after him, watching the trail of cars and trailers turn on the gasoline station and then quickly disappear down the street until I finally managed to stare at Vince, whose face was decorated with a broad grin.

"Hope you're not too comfortable, Doc." I smiled. "See, you want to drive with me, then you'll have your share in the fuel costs. Get out and fill the tank, will you?"

"I'm crippled. You go."

"Not crippled enough to not put fuel into a Lady's car, I daresay. Get out and be useful for once."

"I am a very useful commentator," he tried.

"Not so. Now get out!"

While he was fueling my car and cleaning the windows, pretending to be some poor crippled beggar without even forgetting to knock on my window and ask for money for the cleaning (for which he got nothing from me but a 'friendly' stare that should have frozen a volcano), I was already groaning inside how annoying that trip would be, with someone who had strange ways of argumentation that were so much similar to my own...
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Not for you (FIN)