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Driven to the Edge [Blu and Driven]

Lara nodded rather curtly, the exhale through her nose sharp right along with it. Her mood had taken a clear turn for the worse, her hazel eyes a dark, fuming amber. She knew the place he was talking about and, after politely waiting for him to finish his call, accelerated sharply through the curve in the road, diving for the apex across the middle line of the empty road and then letting off just a bit to fall back into her appropriate lane. Her focus was split between controlling the car and focusing on the sound of the engine. Her temper could get a little out of hand when she was at that point of frustration, and the exhaust note could be downright therapeutic.

It took some self-control to remind herself that the situation was not her passenger's fault: she didn't even know him, no reason to take it out on him. With another slow exhale, she answered with an equally slow nod, eyes steadily on the road ahead. "Wasn't expecting it, no worries. We don't really exchange too much info, anyway. Makes life in general a lot easier," she shrugged.

A few more miles down the road, she breathed another sigh. "Sorry the evening was busted. I have to admit, I was kinda looking forward to running against you." A very small, mischievous grin quirked the corners of her lips upward. "I have a feeling you'd at least give me a run for my money."
 
Desmond let a smirk creep across his face as he experienced her attacking the apex as she did. Most people reach for the 'oh shit' handle, but he'd seen her driving before and was legitimately unnerved by her driving. The little burst of speed was actually pretty entertaining. Impressive, to say the least. It was only when he looked over at her again that he realized that she was less showing off and more... upset. Like it was something she would have done whether or not he was strapped into the passenger seat.

When she admitted to not caring about his secrecy, Desmond sighed on the inside. He glanced outside of the passenger window, "I can respect that. Treat it almost like a business. Keep work life and home life separate." He shrugged a bit before returning his gaze forward.

After they'd gone a bit down the road, he looked at her, his face beginning to mirror the grin that had posted up on her own, "Had a feeling huh?" "If she only knew." Desmond looked forward again, "We could set something up. Just you and me. A couple of cars are way less likely to draw attention than 20 or 30." Part of him really did want to run her. It was a shame that it was his job to make sure things never came to that.
 
The car was eager to run, she could feel it underfoot but she also knew she couldn't go as hard as she wanted to - needed to, really - blow off some steam. She had to settle for the occasional aggressive attack of a turn or a little tire spin as she pulled onto another road. A part of her brain was still roiling - trying to figure out what her next plan of attack would be. She was going to have to find a legitimate track at this point, no matter how far away it was...

Luckily, that part of her mind was turning more of a focus on the slow conversation between the two. She scratched at the back of her neck and shrugged. "Something like that...also makes it easier for us not to rat anyone out if we don't know too much about each other," she admitted with a quiet, half-hearted laugh. "Not to say some of us don't really know each other, but we avoid a lot of bullshit, nonetheless."

Her grin grew just a bit more at his own words. "Not a bad idea...but then you wouldn't have your good luck charm," she teased, finding herself laughing slightly once more as she cast him a side-long glance. "I'd hate for you to feel put out without her." They were nearing the storage unit by then, and her phone had begun to vibrate under her leg. She didn't even bother to look at it.
 
"Explains why Mike didn't know her name..." But that didn't explain why everyone knew Mike's. Oh wait, it's Mike. Mike needs more attention than a puppy. He wouldn't know what to do if people didn't know him by name. Desmond chuckled a bit as the thought ran through his head.

"Oh no... that's right. And I didn't even get her number. I guess I won't be able to race you then," Desmond's words were dripping with sarcasm. With a bit of a chuckle at his own terrible joke he continued on, "My cousin used to be really into racing. Drag racing, I mean. Back in the 90's when Honda's really started to get popular. I was just a little shithead, but I'd try and go hang out with him whenever I could. At the track, at his little meets, anywhere I could. Even back then they had girls like Stacy... or was it Tracy?"

Desmond's gaze sort of became blank, then he looked down holding his chin in thought, "Something-acy."

Desmond shook his head, "Anyway. These girls were always at these meets and events; they were practically groupies. They didn't know or care about cars. They just assumed that whoever was fast had money. Or if the guy was good looking enough, they'd latch onto him too." Desmond looked over at her with a smirk, "My cousin was cursed with both. He had a little turbo Del Sol VTEC with the B16 and back then, motor swaps were such a pain that they were uncommon. So he was quick. Car was ugly, but he was quick. And he would always say cheesy lines like that to these girls and it would work. I thought they just liked him. Turns out, they like status. Or what they think status is."

Desmond shrugged a bit and let his gaze return forward. His little trip down memory lane was pleasant and upsetting all at the same time. He rarely ran into anyone as talented as the Fox driver that wasn't a professional. Especially a woman. "Is that sexist? I mean, no reason women shouldn't be as good as we are, right? But it's really rare to--" He looked down at his phone as the screen lit up. He then pulled it closer to his face and with a couple of taps revealed it was a text message from Greg telling him that he was already at the storage place. Desmond sent a quick reply before dropping the phone back into his lap, "I really hope he isn't parked somewhere too obvious."
 
Lara couldn't resist a laugh at the heavy sarcasm in his tone. She listened in quiet, though pleasant, surprise at his little story. A laugh punctuated his blank on her name, and she didn't bother correcting him. Honestly, most of their names blurred together anyway when they all had the same motif and all tended to exude a lack of creativity in nicknames or fake names. A small, fond grin had tugged the corners of her lips upward about halfway through his memory. She wasn't normally one to share too many details of her life, but he had shared and perhaps somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt obligated to return the favor.

"Always gonna be girls like that, I guess...especially when what we do does involve so much money..." she cringed through a laugh before shaking her head. "My dad actually dragged this car...on a track," she mused somewhat quietly. "I used to go with him every weekend from the time I was four or five and just loved every second of being there. Sometimes I wonder how I don't have permanent hearing damage from some of the cars that used to run there...and this car used to be one of the fastest in its class and even there you'd find a special kind of woman that never really wanted to take no for an answer. But, anyway," she shrugged and actually came to a stop at the red light of an empty intersection, her right hand still rested idly on the shifter in neutral.

"When his health started to go bad, he passed her on to me and I couldn't bring myself to go back to the drag strip...needed something more and this has kinda been my way to get it ever since." She sighed and shifted languidly into first and accelerated modestly from the light. Her own little memory causing the embers of her temper to fizzle out. "The girls just kinda seem to follow it wherever it goes. Definitely didn't start with such a big crowd."

As the storage unit came into view, she though she saw the end of a car parked somewhere near it but didn't really think anything of it. "Where should I let you out? Any particular spot?"
 
Desmond silently and intently listened to her story. At first it wasn't all too surprising. A lot of people got into cars because of their dad or some other older family member. He even chuckled a bit when she got to the part about her own experiences with groupies. "I mean, blondie was pretty cute. In her own right..." Desmond smirked at his own thought idly staring at the red light. Which was the worst kind of red light. Who were they stopped for? Was this intersection haunted or something? Not that there was a rush, but still.

As they neared the storage unit, Desmond pondered what she had told him. Everything about her father, how she had gotten into the street racing scene. He stole a silent glance in her direction, one that might have lingered a tad too long, "She can't be much older than 24 or 25... This all must be pretty recent for her..." He looked down at his lap, then returned his gaze forward. She was supposed to just be a common criminal; some street racing punk threatening the safety of herself and anyone around her.

Something was off. Maybe it was her skill. Maybe it was her story. Maybe it was the fact that she was a woman or just some strange combination of the three. Either way, something was different about this one.

His reaction to her question was almost like he'd just been snapped out of a trance. He pointed to a curb nearby, "Right here should be fine." The next few seconds felt like an eternity as he contemplated his next move.

Each heartbeat was amplified. Tension went to his shoulders. He took one deep breath as the Mustang came to a halt. His left hand shot toward the e-brake, his right hand behind his back to draw his weapon. "Turn off the car, and toss your keys out of the window..."
 
Lara nodded at his direction and pulled the car up to the curb. She shifted into neutral to let the car roll to a stop, a process made much less graceful by the abrupt engaging of the handbrake. She startled a bit and her mouth opened to voice some surprised question when he spoke again. She almost started to laugh, but when she finally turned in the seat to look at him, she noted the withdrawn weapon and realized exactly what this was...

A lot of emotions crossed her expression and fought for dominance within her head. Naturally, the first was anger, shown predominantly in the heat of her eyes. She had been fooled - let her guard down and been proven absolutely and totally wrong by Luke who might not get the chance to appropriately rub it in her face. Two parts of her mind battled with the appropriate course of action. The angrier portion of her brain told her to fight: think on her feet and find a way to throw him off.

But then there was the other side that was steadily piecing the puzzle together and forcing the fizzling of her temper. She was tired: outside, the road was her domain and where she knew she could play. With a cop's gun pulled on her within her car, however, she was completely exposed - out of her element. There was no running, no dodging, no stunting in front of police cruisers. She couldn't attempt to run without leaving the car and like hell she was ever going to do that.

The fight left as her options dwindled. A wry smirk tugged the corners of her lips upward as she shook her head and just let her forehead come to rest against the top center of the steering wheel. Her right hand hesitated but then eventually lifted to come to rest on the key in the ignition. "Figures..." she chuckled humorlessly. "Knew I'd seen you somewhere before. You were that cop in the bistro a while back." Her stomach dropped as she gripped the key. She knew that as soon as she turned the Fox off, it was pretty much over. Her chest tightened at the thought of what would happen to it...she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner, to be honest. She had been pretty stupid about the whole thing but...

Before her thoughts could spiral any further downward, she glanced at him once more. "You're the guy that's been chasing me the past few months, aren't you?"
 
Desmond's brown eyes narrowed as he looked at her, his grip on the handgun was firm. Time felt like it had slowed once again as a wave of thoughts hit him. He had done more police work in the last few weeks trying to catch this woman than most beat cops get done in a year. The lying, the scheming, bringing in friends to do his dirty work... all of this over a street racer. How did it end up going this far? He finally had her, but... something just didn't feel right.

"A few months? It's really been that long? Shit..." Desmond scrunched his visage into a frown as he began to force the thoughts back down, "I said, turn the engine off. Throw the keys out of the window. Now!" He was attempting to shut down any sort of dialogue between the two.

His nerves eased a bit when he caught a glance of Greg approaching the driver door of the car...
 
Still, the humorless grin persisted. "I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a yes..." She should probably have been far more intimidated by the entire situation, even more so when, from the corner of her eye, she spotted someone else approaching her door. With her forehead still on the wheel, she turned her head to fully confirm that it was yet another officer and then turned back to the one in the passenger seat. "Two of you guys, huh? I guess I should feel special." She closed her eyes for a few seconds and just listened to the low, loppy idle of the Fox before clenching her jaw and turning the key.

...sorry Dad.

She withdrew the key in the new-found silence and clutched it in her hand in her lap as she fought back the stab of pain in her chest; she'd be damned if she was going to get all over-emotional in front of either of them. It was all so wrong, though. She should've stopped the nonsense long before it came to this. She turned to face him once again. "Can I just...give you the key or something? Let's be honest, it's not like I'm gonna be able to wrestle it back from you." That much she knew was inevitably true. She knew when she was definitely outmatched.

There was that wry smile again.

"For the record, it was pretty fun running with you. I was right, by the way: you would've given me a run for my money in a real car." With a consistent pain in her chest, she slowly but surely held up the keys to him. "I would just rather not toss them out the window. You might understand why." She wasn't that callous with any part of her car. No matter how small. She would rather hand the keys over to someone else...even knowing what it meant.
 
For some reason, it hadn't really clicked for him until now. While he had been lacing his stories with lies, she was actually being open with him. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. Instead holding out his left hand for her to drop the keys into, which he then slipped into his interior jacket pocket. "Out of the car," He said as he lowered the gun. He then reached for the passenger side door handle to make his own way out of the vehicle.

"Greg, cuff her. Let's get this over with," Desmond said with a heavy sigh. The tone in his voice sounded like that of someone who had just gotten off of an extremely long day of work and just wanted to relax.

"I can't do that, Taylor."

"And why the hell not?!" Desmond slammed the door of the Mustang and marched from the passenger side around the rear end of the Mustang until he made it over to the driver side."

"This isn't right," Greg shook his head.

"What the hell are you talking about? I caught her! She's here! Cuff her so we can move on with our lives."

"Look, Des, just calm down..."

"I am calm!" Desmond spat at him with a particular fire in his eyes.

"If this goes down like this, it could be a massive scandal. They found the Camaro you took from impound..."

"Fucking Ron..." he hissed under his breath.

"Desmond, listen to me!" Greg snapped, "This isn't police work anymore and you know it! This is personal!" He threw his arms up, "Look where we are right now! Look at how you're dressed. Look at what you're doing! This is a mess and it needs to stop." Greg's eyes bounced back and forth between the woman and those of his fellow officer. "The shit has gotten up the ladder, Desmond. I told you to quit running around like you're a goddamn action hero, but you just wouldn't listen."

Greg began to point at Desmond while he continued his lecture, "Think about all of the laws you've broken trying to put this scheme together. Out here trying to make an arrest dressed like a damn secret shopper. All over a fucking street racer?! Who you can't even prove was racing?! I could see if she was part of some drug ring and you found a fucking gram of coke up her snatch, but it's just some bitch in an ugly ass Mustang. You're throwing your career down the drain for this!"

"At least I'm trying to do something with my career, you disloyal piece of shit!"

"I'm loyal to the law! We have to let her go."

"Bullshit!" Desmond got right into Greg's face, "I've never seen a cop do as little work as you do. You are a fucking pig in every sense of the word. Right down to the smell of donut glaze on your breath, you worthless fuck of a cop."

"Don't make me have to arrest you..."

Desmond grit his teeth. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had to contain that ball of rage that was swelling up inside of him. "Fine," Desmond stepped back, holding his forehead, "Fine, let her go." His tone was dismissive, but he knew Greg was right, at least to an extent. Somehow this had all gotten extremely out of hand...
 
Lara hesitated only briefly before dropping the keys into his palm. Her hand felt cold, a lump forming in her throat that she did her best to swallow. At his next command, she sighed and gripped the wheel one last time. Perhaps it was a little melodramatic, but she hadn't a clue what would happen from there. The car meant more to her than most people's pets meant to them, she had to have her own way of saying goodbye.

She left her cell phone in the seat as she stepped out and closed the door behind her. Despite her shoulders being rolled back and her head held high, her expression showed that she had no intention of anything but compliance. Perhaps if she was on her best behavior, she wouldn't be completely wrecked...

What happened next, she certainly hadn't expected at all. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she watched the conversation unfold between the two officers. Her pulse accelerated and the faintest twinkle of relief began to form to replace the dreaded pit of impending doom in her stomach. Clearly this would-be bust had not exactly been as official as she had initially assumed it was. It had gone surprisingly well for him, if she was honest.

She met the gaze of the other officer - Greg, she supposed - for a second before his attention was back on his coworker...or maybe partner or something? She didn't exactly know all the details, but nonetheless, she was beginning to feel very awkward in the situation. She was the third party here: her fate hung in the balance of their argument and she wasn't exactly sure what she should do. A part of her felt guilty: this guy Desmond had clearly gone above and beyond to put her away and she had been taunting him almost the entire time without so much as a thought.

Then again, she had never expected to be so high on the priority list of a cop for street racing in the middle of nowhere...

As the older of the two officers continued his tirade, she was taken somewhat aback by his words and was immediately indignant. Coke in her snatch? Some bitch in an ugly ass Mustang? Despite the fact that this clearly was not the point of his little speech, she had to physically bite her tongue to keep from saying anything. No, her car wasn't the prettiest, but she'd be damned if it wasn't worth a second look. No one seemed to let it go...

Things seemed to escalate quickly from there and suddenly they were in each other's faces. She kept close to the Fox, her hand resting on the roof as she stood back, still uncertain of what was about to happen and then he said it: let her go.

She blinked purposefully a few times, processing everything. Had that really just happened? Her inner monologue was screaming success and happiness but her expression remained somewhat confused and blank. In the ensuing pause, she cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. He still had her keys.

"...so, uh...I'm...good to go...?"

...wow, she could be so articulate when she needed to be. Not.
 
"No, bitch! You're not good to go! The fuck is wrong with you? You really think I'm gonna chase your ass around town for months and then just let you waltz the fuck out of here like it's nothing? The fuck I look like?" Desmond bit his bottom lip before a strained, "Yep," escaped his lips. Nothing more, nothing less. He reached inside of his coat and drew forth her keys. With a quick toss he relinquished them back into her care.

Suddenly, Greg started behaving like a professional police officer, "On behalf of all of us down at the station, I'd like to apologize for my colleague's behavior."

"Really?" Desmond looked at him, too baffled by the fact that Greg was really spouting such bull to actually be angry with him in that moment.

"I hope you have enjoy the rest of your night, ma'am. Drive safe."

"She was really just a drug trafficking bitch like 20 seconds ago..." Desmond rubbed his right temple, "I.. need to make a call orrr something." He slipped away from the two, still rubbing his temple. Was this really it? Months of pursuit and she just gets to walk away? With another drawn out sigh, he plopped himself down on a nearby curb. "Maybe she deserves it. Shit, I dunno..." Desmond's eyes were directed at the ground, but he was really off in his own world, "At least I had some sort of adventure for my last day..."

---

Brrrrrrzzt. Brrrrrrzzt. His phone escaped from the pile of denim that was slumped beside the bed onto the floor. His brown eyes slightly creaked open as the device continued to spaz out all over the floor. "What the fuck--" he ran a hand across his face trying to force himself to consciousness before rolling over just enough to reach. "Mm... hello?"

"Get your big, lazy ass out of bed. It's like noon on a Wednesday, what are you doing sleeping?" It was Dani. As if it could be anyone else talking to him like that.

"Well hi, mom," Desmond said with an intense yawn.

"Downtown, ten minutes. I need to run by the boutique really quick. I'll buy you lunch?"

Desmond ended the call and dropped the phone on the bed. Occasionally that was their way of saying that they'd be there. He swung he feet over the edge of the bed and glanced over his shoulder. In the bed was none other than Tracy who was still very much so asleep. Without any semblance of care, he rose to his feet and slipped on the skinny jeans that he'd so carelessly kicked aside the night before. As he roamed around the room looking for his shirt, he took a second to lift his arm up and take a whiff... "Eh." He shrugged and continued on his hunt. After a couple of minutes he'd finally found the black v-neck tee and made his way toward the exit.

It was about a minute-long walk from her apartment to where he'd parked his baby. A 2006 Acura RSX-S, clad in a one-off black paint that would reveal a hint of color that struck a balance between cerulean and teal under the right light. It wasn't the fastest car around, but that didn't make him love it any less. With a pop of the door handle, he slid into the custom leather Status Spa seats with a smirk. A smirk that turned into a wide grin as his left foot pressed in the clutch pedal and his right hand turned the key, bringing the little two liter engine to life. He gripped the Blox shift knob and moved it to neutral to give her time to warm up for a few minutes before finally setting off.

About fifteen minutes later he pulled into a spot right next to Dani's green VW Beetle. Before he'd even had chance to comfortably get out of the car, she was giving him a hard time.

"Are you ever on time for anything? Like seriously, your house is right around the corner. How did I beat you here?"

He scratched the back of his head, "I didn't come from home?"

"Oh God, you came straight from her house? I bet you didn't even shower. I can't believe you're still even talking to her." Dani scrunched her face like she'd just seen something gross, "And it's been like three weeks since anyone has seen that Camaro you stole. Why is she still even talking to you?"

"Psh, don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful. Plus! Plus, you're still with Mike. So how is that any different?"

"Uhm... he buys me stuff with daddy's money. So I'm not even really with Mike. I'm with his wallet. Totally different."

"I'm just now starting to realize how trashy we really are," Desmond said as they made their way into the boutique. "Wanna smell my finger?"

"Ew, no!" She shoved him, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She sighed, "Just go load this stuff into my car please? Actually put that muscle to use."

"Don't act like you don't like my muscle..."

"Shut up."

Ten minutes later, Desmond loaded the last bit of stuff into the Beetle before closing the trunk, "Hey, I wanna run down to Jerry's real quick before we go eat."

"Really?" Dani said like a child being told to eat their vegetables. "You know I get bored when you shop for car stuff because you always end up talking to somebody about it foreverrr and I'm just not into that stuff like you are."

"Look, I haven't been to Jerry's in a couple of months and it's like a 3 minute walk from here. I promise I'll keep it short, okay?"

"Fine. Fine."
 
Lara knew that he had a lot more to say than just "yep" but was somewhat glad he obviously wasn't about to say anything more. The whole situation had turned very odd, very quickly, but it wasn't like she could complain. She was being let go - completely scott-free. And yet there was that little nagging feeling of guilt that burrowed into the pit of her stomach...

She reached up to catch her keys out of the air, feeling immediately whole once again and glancing at Desmond after the fact. For some reason, she felt compelled to say something, although she hadn't a clue what . The more logical portion of her brain just told her to keep her mouth shut. The last thing out of her mouth hadn't exactly been brilliant or of any kind of worth. And what would she say, anyway? Sorry your plan failed and I got away again? That hardly seemed to come off as appropriate...

The fact that the older officer had gone from calling her a bitch to ma'am threw her for a bit of a loop and her attention was sufficiently steadied on him, her expression deadpan and saying everything she wasn't. Seriously? Nonetheless, she nodded a little and pulled the door to the Fox open. She didn't hesitate to push the clutch in and turn the key, confidence renewed as she was back in her environment. The entire situation was truly just too weird for proper words. She glanced out the window one last time before conservatively pulling back onto the road and heading home.

It wasn't until she was standing in the shower, ridding herself of the long day's grime, that the gravity of what had just happened settled in and made her knees tremble and nearly knock together. That had certainly been the closest call she had ever had...

---

You've got your ball, you've got your chain tied to me tight; tie me up again...

Lara's voice carried through the shop right in line with that of Dave Matthew's flowing crisply from the speakers of the stereo she had insisted on setting up years ago. She was ducking out from under the 2006 Mustang that was currently on her lift for a change of exhaust and her hips swayed lazily to the song as she wiped her hands on a rag, earning an appreciative whistle from Jack, one of the other mechanics employed at Peter's shop.

"Damn, Lar, why don't you keep backing that up right this way?"

She nonchalantly raised the middle fingers on both of her hands just as Pete rounded the corner and smacked the back of his head, resulting in an indignant curse from the victim. "The hell did I tell you about that shit? Keep it in your pants." The older man smirked and strolled over to the sheepishly grinning Lara. "I think it's time for you to get on your way, isn't it? You've been working here nonstop for the past couple weeks, not to mention all the after hours shit. Clear outta here and have some fun why don't ya?"

Her brow furrowed and she pouted, her bottom lip protruding dramatically. "Is my hard work that much of a bother?"

His gaze narrowed. "Yeah it is when you won't talk about why you're working like this lately."

She shrugged and avoided the pointed question not quite hidden in his words. She hadn't told him what had happened on her last night out, so-to-speak, and currently had no intention to do so. He would do far more than kill her, that was for damn sure. And besides, she was working a little more to funnel a little extra cash into a savings account dedicated to the inevitable changes she would be making to the Fox. She had decided a paint job was in order as well as some less-superficial changes that would change the car's set up quite drastically.

"Just tryin' to get a little extra cash, is that so wrong? And, anyway, I've gotta finish this exhaust so I'll leave after that."

Pete sighed and shook his head slowly before huffing. "Jakey, here, can finish that for you. Take the rest of the day off." She opened her mouth to protest over Jake's unhappy grumbles when the shop owner shushed her. "I want you to run by and pick up the Whipple I ordered, anyway. Jerry's guy's are backed up and I told him you'd grab it and then bring it in tomorrow so we can get it on Lund's block."

Her pout remained, but she let the idea stew for a moment. She could browse a little while she was there...

"Alright, alright. You the boss." She moved back towards the main building to wash up a bit and lightly punched Jake's shoulder. "Don't fuck up my job." More derogatory expletives were shot at her back as she laughed out the door.

In twenty minutes she had thrown on a fresh t-shirt to go with the worn and stained work pants that hung low on her hips and was in her truck on the way to Jerry's shop. She hummed along with the song on the radio and let her mind wander to everything and nothing all at once. As far as she knew, there had been at least one meet since the last, but she hadn't gone. She still took some night time runs in the Mustang, but only solo...which was what was leading to her decision to change its set up.

Before she could dwell too much, she had arrived in the parking lot and thrown the F250 in park. She slid out of the truck, locked the door behind her and made her way inside. She breathed a long, relaxed sigh and smiled cheerfully at a customer that was on his way out. She decided to take a little detour prior to heading to the counter. One of the headlights in the truck had finally blown and she needed to pick up a new set of bulbs.

She found the appropriate aisle and scanned the racks for the appropriate type. And, of course, there were several different types to choose from...
 
"So how is the sex with the great, Michael Wachowski anyways?" Desmond said sarcastically as they made their way across the street.

"It's actually pretty bad," Dani paused, "I mean... it's not thaaaat bad. It's average sometimes. Below average other times. But you can't tell him that, he thinks he's a god in the sack. Then again he think's he's great at everything--Did I tell you how much money I was saving by staying with him?"

"You do realize that he's most likely sleeping with other girls, right?"

"Yeah, so? I'm not even in -like- with the guy."

"What if he picks up something foul from one of those chicks, then gives it to you?"

Dani stopped mid stride and looked at Desmond with extremely wide eyes, "That's not okay." After Desmond laughed at her realization, they kept walking. "So maaaaybe I dragged this thing out longer than I should have. I mean, Mike is pretty much the worst person I've ever met." She then hit him on the arm, "Quit laughing! If I have to throw out my garbage, then you do too. No more sleeping with Stacy."

"Tracy."

"Whatever!"

"Are you my girlfriend now or something?"

"Shut up," she said with a chuckle, hitting him way more playfully this time. "I just don't think it's fair that I can't take advantage of someone if you can't. 'Cause I'm pretty sure blondie has been around the bend a few times herself."

"You're probably right. Are you gonna sleep with me then?"

"I already gave your sorry ass a job. Don't push it." She then looked away from him dramatically, "Maybe."

"Oh, maybe?" Desmond said, pulling open the door to Jerry's.

"Maybe," she said as she walked in and Desmond stepped in behind her.

"Jerry!" Desmond yelled from the entrance of the store. Having grown comfortable with the man over the years, it allowed him to be a little more obnoxious than other customers. With a really wide grin, he made his way to the front counter with Dani in tow. For some reason, he enjoyed this way more than most. Perhaps that er... 'time off' from the force had been doing him some real good.

After one of the customers in front of him finished their transaction, Desmond smirked, "What you got for me, Jerry?"

"You can't at least gimme a, 'Hey man, long time no see,' or somethin'?"

"Aw, come on Jerry. You know I missed you. If I could trade Dani in for you, I would, but she has no value to anyone."

"I'm really just like... right here," Dani said before rolling her eyes.

The guys chuckled a bit before Jerry gave his beard a stroke, "Well I got a couple things you might like in the back. A set of classic Mugen wheels... a Feel's header..."

"Jerry, you know I sold that Civic a long time ago."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Claire really cleaned ya out, didn't she?"

"Let's not talk about that one, Jerry. I need to go get some headlights for the RX-7."

"I told you about them cheap Nokya bulbs, Des."

"Yeah yeah." Desmond pushed away from the counter. A few moments later he rounded the corner to the appropriate isle. His eyes lingered for a moment, before he realized who the woman was, stopping him in his tracks.

After nearly bumping into him, Dani looked up, "Desmond, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen--" She then looked forward and realized what had stopped him...
 
Lara had heard someone quite loudly shout Jerry's name upon entry, but didn't think too much of it. Jerry's shop was pretty popular, especially within the actual auto "scene", so-to-speak. She, herself, was quite familiar with him between her own purchases and picking things up for Pete. It was no surprise to have someone greeting him so enthusiastically. He was a good guy and why not be friends with the owner of probably the best parts shop in town, as far as she was concerned?

She focused on the decision at hand, deciding between regular Sylvania halogen bulbs or the ever-tempting upgrade to the stronger and brighter options. It was at a cost, though, as was everything else. She gnawed on her bottom lip in thought, making too much of a process out of it as she often did with the simple things. And just like with most other decisions, her Mustang helped her decide: less money on the truck, more money on the Fox. As long as the headlights worked, paved her way appropriately enough, the truck ran and pulled her trailer without issue, she was perfectly content with it staying the way it was.

Just as she had put the more expensive packaging pair back on the rack, she heard a few sets of footsteps approach and then a woman's voice. Wait, did she just say Desmond...? Wasn't that the...? There's no way... She picked up her head and turned to come face-to-face with, sure enough, the officer from a few weeks ago. Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead and her mouth opened as if to speak but instead the words caught quite literally in her throat in surprise, resulting in her choking on air for a few seconds.

When she recovered, she glanced between him and the woman with him, the little light bulb of recognition making her bite back a little smirk. So that was how he got in... She cleared her throat, her hands preoccupied with the packaging of the bulbs as a small, sheepish grin slowly spread upon her lips. "Well, uh...this is awkward, eh? Of all the parts shops," she forced a brief, awkward laugh before running a hand through her hair and letting it resettle over her right shoulder. What the hell else could she do? Run flying in the opposite direction? The situation hardly called for that...
 
He felt a chills running relay races up and down his spine as he saw her. It had been a few weeks since he let her get away without even being able to write her a ticket. He definitely wasn't hallucinating. There she was, ruining his plan to try and put that fiasco behind him. As he tried to overcome the lump in his throat, Dani patted him on the back, "I'm.... gonna go talk to Jerry."

He gave her a quick glance as he left but returned his gaze to the Fox Driver. He cleared his throat a bit before speaking, "Well uh... yeah. Jerry's got the best shop in town." He scratched the back of his neck. "She has to absolutely be loving this moment right now..." He then forced a bit of a smile, "I'm surprised I've never seen you around here before."

He was being honest. Unless she'd just come into town during the last months that they were playing hot pursuit, it's a wonder they never crossed paths. Or maybe they had and just never took note. She did notice him at the bistro, but police uniforms tend to make people stand out in a crowd.

Regardless, there she was. To think that Dani almost stopped him from coming into the store today...
 
Lara's hazel gaze followed the other woman as she left, but was quickly brought back to the situation at hand as he spoke. She nodded in agreement. "That he does. Nicest guy, too," she mused. His last comment made her pause. The town wasn't that big and if he frequented the place even half as often as she did, there was almost no way she could fathom them having never encountered each other. Obviously if they had, it was of no consequence and they had moved on, blissfully oblivious to the fact that they were more familiar with each other in an entirely different scene.

The tension of the awkward moment had settled heavily over her shoulders and she shifted her weight to rest over one hip. "We probably have and just never even noticed...I feel like I'm in here too much to not have seen every regular at least once," she admitted with another slight laugh.

She studied him a moment and that nagging little voice of guilt worked its way into her skull once more. He was out of uniform and, judging by what had gone down that fateful night, had probably lost his job. She exhaled slowly at the thought and her brow furrowed. The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth, and, inevitably, she felt quite a bit of responsibility for what had happened to him. She had not needed to goad him as much as she had on the road...

"Look, uh...I'm sorry about the way everything went down for you...I didn't mean for all that shit to happen...I mean, I obviously didn't want to get caught, either but you put up a pretty fun chase and-," she stopped short and exhaled sharply through her nose as an embarrassed blush began to creep up her neck and lightly flush her cheeks. She ran her hand through her hair again out of nervous habit. She certainly wasn't articulate in an awkward situation and it was much more frustrating than she wanted to admit. "Just...okay, y'know what?" She extended a hand forward into the space between them. "Lara. Not sure whether you even want to know my name at this point but...you deserve at least that much..."
 
He narrowed his brown eyes on her as she stumbled through her apology. "Is she serious right now? Is this really-- Is she blushing?!" He stared at her hand as she extended toward him. After everything that had happened between them, he should be furious, but... he extended his hand to meet hers. "Desmond," he subconsciously smiled as he gripped her hand. His shake was firm. "Half the people you race with don't even get to know your name and I do? It'll be way easier to arrest you next time."

He smirked at his own little joke before pulling away from the handshake and slipping his hands into his pockets. "You know... I should hate you for getting me fired. Well, suspended indefinitely. Which is the police version of getting fired." He looked to the ground, then back to her Hazel eyes, "But that was probably what I needed, Lara. I don't think I was on the right career path for me, y'know?"

"Maybe that's why I was so focused on catching you..."
 
To be perfectly honest, she half-expected him to spit in her face and tell her to get lost, or something along those lines. It would not have surprised her and she certainly would not have blamed him. Admittedly, however, a little wave of relief washed over her as he gripped her hand. She returned the firm handshake, her own grin returning as she laughed at his comment. "Half the people I race with don't chase as hard as you do, underpowered or not. I respect that." And it was very, very true. Perhaps that little fact had become the reason she had made it a point to always be the one to lead him away.

With her hand freed, Lara let it return to the other still fiddling with the packaging of the headlamps. Her stomach dropped a little at his words. Again, she would not have blamed him and quite frankly, there was still some underlying guilt, there. She had never been the reason someone lost their job and certainly not for something like that. But when his gaze lifted back to hers, her head tilted slightly, curiosity shining in her eyes as her smile broadened somewhat.

"Well, if I'm totally honest, it seemed like kind of a waste to have you stuck in a P-O-S cruiser."
 
He gave a less awkward chuckle this time, "You're telling me? Those things are such a joke." His demeanor changed for the better, "I was really -really- hoping that you'd be a terrible driver. Especially since you drive a Foxbody. Most of those are owned by people who only turn if they absolutely have to and spend a whole lot of time dissing imports for no valid reason." If there was one thing Desmond was good at, it was talking. At least when he wasn't mad and at this point he legitimately had nothing to be mad about, "It's like... your engine is twice the size of mine. No one here is surprised that it makes more horsepower."

He came down off of his little rant with a bit of a smirk and a chuckle. "I'm sorry, I just haven't been able to talk cars in awhile. I can go on and on." He shrugged a bit. For some reason, he was beginning to enjoy himself. He should be trying to fight right now, given the circumstances. Maybe it was because she was a woman.

"How's that ugly Mustang doing anyway?"
 
As his demeanor started to shift, so did hers and her genuine, toothy grin became steadily more prominent as she laughed at his words. She knew those drivers of various domestic cars. Always have to shit on the other guy just because they're different. She found it preposterous on too many levels to count. "To be perfectly fair, it's not just Fox body drivers!...a lot of other domestic guys get their heads too far up their asses with the whole 'no replacement for displacement' bullshit," she laughed. "And import guys get stuck on the 'Americans can't turn' argument and then you have me in the middle giving them both the bird!"

She waved off his apology. "Please, it's not like I couldn't and wouldn't spew car all day, every day right back at you," she assured with a persistent grin. There were several reasons why most of her friends throughout high school had been men, and a good majority of them boiled down to the fact that her female friends got really sick of her tangents really quickly. It was so ingrained in her very core, though, it could be incredibly difficult to avoid.

His question had her rolling her eyes. "Everyone's always gotta rag on my square little baby. She can't help that she was born on the coat-tails of the 80s!" she huffed jokingly. "And at any rate, she's great. I'm thinking about making some major changes to her set up, though. Grip racing is fun and all, but I've got some other plans that involve a hydraulic handbrake and killing copious amounts of tires." Her grin at that point was mischievous. She had to admit: she was just a tad excited to make a change. It was a long time coming, at that.

"And I know you've gotta drive something more than a Crown Vic," she prodded with a curious quirk of an eyebrow.
 
He nodded and chuckled when she commented about being in the middle and flipping both sides the bird. "I'm with you there!" So many people had gotten stuck in their old-timey beliefs and just wouldn't let them go. Either that, or they just had to have some reason to hate on a car that wasn't theirs. Maybe it was easy to keep spouting the same shit everyone else had been as opposed to coming up with new insults.

He continued to listen intently, a natural smile creeping up on his face. There was a unique sort of bond between legitimate car people. They could talk about car-related anything for an eternity or two and never get bored of it. Maybe he and Lara were a lot more alike than he originally thought.

At least until she started about drifting, but he had one thing to get off of his chest first, "You cannot blame the 80's for your Mustang. Just because the U.S. was making uglier and uglier cars during those years doesn't mean the 80's were bad everywhere." He began counting on his fingers, "The RX-7, the Z, the GT-R, Civic hatch, CRX, 240, Supra, Starion, Corolla, MR2, Miata..." He smirked, "But I might be a little biased."

He knew he was beginning to sound like a JDM fanboy, but... he liked what he liked. Maybe it was in his blood or something. When it came to cars, he liked a bit of everything. One of his favorite American cars was the 80's Grand National, but he couldn't let her know that after he'd just spent so much breath dissing American 80's cars.

"I actually have a civvy Crown Vic I drive around during my off days. Just a really really solid car, y'know?" He was obviously joking, but he just couldn't help himself.
 
Indeed, the natural and immediate bond between car-lovers of all shapes and sizes could tear down just about any barrier of communication one could think of. The awkwardness of their initial encounter was already long-since forgotten and all tension had eased from her traps and back. This conversation was something she knew, and something she knew well. Especially when the two sides of the domestic and import coin could actually stand on middle ground.

She was trying desperately not to laugh in delight at his words, her head shaking as she feigned insult. "Excuse me? You're going to hate on 80s American and say that the Civic hatch was better? Blasphemy! Talk about bias!" she laughed good-naturedly. She couldn't argue with him on too many of the other ones, though, that was for sure.

Sure, she might as well have bled blue ovals, but that certainly wouldn't stop her from gawking at a Supra or appreciating a classic rotary of just about any kind. And while she would undoubtedly enjoy the hell out of driving any one of those cars, returning to a big, hulking American car was just as inevitable. Everyone had their preferences.

She set a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes at his comment about having a Crown Vic daily. "Oh, I'm sure you just haven't had enough of cruising around in a Vic." Her mischievous grin returned, eyes narrowed playfully. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you're in a Japanese import...it might be a little bit of a shot in the dark, though."
 
He watched her sit her hand on her hip, his eyes lingered on her frame a bit longer than they should have before his brown eyes re-engaged with her hazel. He crossed his arms before he spoke, "Well uhhh... I guess I could say that your guess wasn't too far off." He smirked, "I actually have more than one if you can believe it." At this point, he might as well have had a Rising Sun flag wrapped around him. It wasn't his fault that he was in love with Japanese cars.

"And don't worry, they're all functional," he flashed her a grin. "I know as gearheads we're supposed to appreciate everything regardless, but the stance thing is a waste. I'm sorry, it really just is." He put his hands up, "Don't get me wrong, it looks good. I can't deny that, but I'm tired of seeing cars with potential to perform getting ruined by getting slammed. All of my mods either add to the car's performance, or don't take away from it. I think that school of thought is getting away from most of the people in the scene these days."

Desmond turned to the headlights, playfully looking them over, "It's a shame that this one uhhh gray Foxbody I know of is about to be turned into a drift car. I reaaalllly really wanted to race it one of these days..."
 
Lara couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You make me sick, you know that?" she laughed. "Then again, if I could have more than one Mustang, I would...and they would both be set up for different things," she sighed dreamily before shrugging. "Eh, for now I can dream and deal with all the ugly hate," she continued to joke. She had settled in oddly comfortably and quickly into the conversation. And if she didn't watch herself, she would just transition to flat-out flirting. It wouldn't be the first time...

She exhaled an exaggerated, over-relieved breath. "Thank God, I couldn't agree more. That whole 'stance drops her pants' thing is just...no, no it doesn't. It makes her wonder why the fuck you're wasting tires the wrong way." She waved a hand dismissively at the idea. "And what good is it, anyway, if you have to worry about scraping on any little bump or branch in the road? Function over form any day of the week."

She eyed him just as playfully, eyes narrowing at his words. "Technically not about to be anything...lot of money involved in that and I'm maybe half-way there...for now it's still mostly grip..." she mused lightly, her tone reflecting feigned regret. "Maybe that's a good thing, though, by the sounds of it...I know my Fox body is always looking to take part in the fun part of a classic argument. She hasn't seen a good race in a while, after all..." She could play coy all she wanted, but the excited glimmer in her eyes and expression was unmistakable. "I mean...with the right opponent."
 
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