Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Porsche Stories Vol. 3 Part 2

The two Porsches made their way down a wooded gravel road. You could see the sun bounce off the lake between the trees. They parked in front of a small house with wood siding painted in a pastel green. Beside it back in the trees there was a large steel building painted the same hue. You could hear the boats ripping off in the distance. I stumbled out the car and stood firmly in front of her.
"Well here it is."
"People must love seeing this place, it's beautiful."
"I've never brought anyone here."
I motioned for her to follow me to the building, I fished for my keys and stuck one in the hole next to a 30' wide aluminium roll up door. As I twisted the key, the door opened to reveal my only secret. Her eyes widened as she slowly saw the sheet metal appear. There they were in all their glory: My Porsches. There were all types, my dad's Targa, an RS America sitting on a lift, a sampling of different 944's and 924's, a 993 GT2, a 997 Turbo S, a 912, all sorts of 356, and more under one roof. This was my soul poured out in a collection. I stood in the middle of the room and watched her flail herself from car to car expressing joy and admiration. I was motionless, just standing there like I had done once before.
"I should kill you for even suggesting that you're gonna walk away from us."
I stood there and stared as he continued to yell. In both of my hands were duffel bags filled to the brim with $100 bills. I stood there, in that warehouse, contemplating how soon every gun in the building was going to be pointed at me. He finally shut up, and I threw the bags onto the table. In that same moment I heard two shots ring off from a AK-47 and a spray of blood and bone fragments formed out of the hole where his right temple once was.
"You okay?"
"Oh. Yeah. I'm good."
"These are beautiful."
"So are you."
We walked over to the front door of the house, balancing each footstep in the deep gravel. The light broke through the trees and warmed my face as we walked up to the front door. I punched the door code into the lock, and the door opened to a hallway leading straight back to a wall of windows. As I shut the warmth from outside behind us, I could see her eyes wander around my lightly furnished home. The walls were eggshell, bright with the light reflecting off the water. Out the window was a wide view of the nouveau rushing by on boats. You looked up to the railings of the loft that made up my bedroom and bathroom.
"A friend of mine bought this house for me to use back when I was in high school."
"Really?"
"When he passed away a few years ago, he left me this house. I lived here until I finally finished school."
He stood next to me as we stared out onto the lake. As he went on about why it took him six years to finish a five year masters program, I remembered how the water moved at the Amelia Island Concours where I first met Richard Speicher, a factory test driver. He was a Swiss-born driver with many tales of the road. Mark introduced us, but made the mistake of leaving me alone too long. It didn't take five minutes for Richard to put me the harness of a preproduction 911 GT2 RS, and thunder us around the island. He could see the lack fear and the look of intent focus on my face. We had to yell over the noise slightly.
"Do you want to drive?"
"Sure."
I slipped behind the driver's seat in the parking lot of a church, and felt out the clutch. Before long I was barrelling around the roads at a ridiculous pace.
"You have too much speed for this corner. Please brake."
I kept my mouth shut and focused on braking even later, each tire dancing on the line on the line of grip as the car made it's way around the corner flat and smooth. Richard was impressed, so much in fact, he asked Mark to let me come with the test team to the Nürburgring. As I thought about that day, he came back to the window with a glass of Malbec.
"Let's go outside."
I walked behind her following her figure back and forth with my eyes, the bottle in hand. We sat in the garden overlooking my docks and the rest of the lake. The boat lifts holding my Thistle Class sailboat and my flat bottomed runabout blocked the view below the horizon. As we quickly finished the bottle, we launched stories at each other with smiles and drunken laughs. I feared this was lead us to where I was a few years ago, my voice tearing through the hallways of my house.
"You ungrateful bitch! I wasn't there for you!?!"
"No."
"While I spend all my fucking time getting shot at, you sit in my house and complain all day about how hard your life is! Then when I come home and try to spend all the time I can with you you complain because I can't stay long enough?"
"I don't love you."
"Oh. You don't fucking love me."
"No."
"So just last week when you told me you couldn't live without me, that was a lie? That's how much of a shitty person you are?"
"I-"
"What?"
"I. I don't know."
"Well I'll help you remember, get the fuck out!"
"I nee-"
"You don't need shit. You leave that fucking Mustang here too. You said you loved that too. Can't let you fuck that up."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't ever come back here."
Jamie walked out the door, and I fell back onto the couch. I reached for the remaining bit of Dewar's left in the bottle to pour that last drink. Iliana grabbed my hand. I had over poured the wine as it spilled into the grass below us. Those plump lips smirked as she let out a light chuckle. I put the bottle down and looked into her eyes and moved in to kiss her. Our lips met and I enjoyed the sweet taste of her lips. She nearly fell out of her chair when we pulled away.
"I think we should go back up to the house"
We stumbled our way up the stairs to my bed, ripping what we could off of each other. We kissed and I threw her down on her back in my bed. I just stood there and stared at her, her breasts spread on her chest.
"Let me just look at you. Let me look at every fine curve on your body. It's all so beautiful, I don't know how I can touch all of it."
I straddled her body, and slowly kissed my way from her neck, to her breasts, down her stomach, all the way to my true destination. As I found my way home her moans grew louder and louder and became the exhaust tone of a Porsche Cayenne S as it crashed through the door of a the warehouse. I made it out alive with the money, but Rick had been shot in his right leg and I was bleeding from my left shoulder. I could feel the pain as I manhandled the big Teutonic SUV through the industrial park. As soon as I began to feel calm, the back glass shattered. As I swerved side to side I saw a black Panamera in my side mirror. I slammed the brakes and took the next right turn, I barely edged the burly Cayenne through the space. I heard a crash behind me as the Panamera went wide and folded into the side of an warehouse ramp. As soon as I looked forward a large SUV lunged out from between two buildings and crashed into the side of the Cayenne.
I stumbled out of the driver's door, I could hear sirens coming from off in the distance above the ringing in my ears. I grabbed my gun and carefully made my way around the car. The driver of the other car wasn't breathing. I peered into the back seat of the Cayenne to see a badly bruised Rick lifeless in the back seat. I pulled his body out of the badly bent driver’s side rear door and managed to pull him onto the ground. The sirens kept growing louder, in a fog I crawled back into the Cayenne, and managed to get it to move. I don’t remember the drive home, all I can remember is walking through the door into my brightly lit home that evening.
The warm sunlight pouring in woke me up, I looked at her there sleeping, her skin softened by the light. It only took a few minutes for the reflection of the water to wake her from her sleep. Them came the yawn and stretch, less awkward than the morning before.
“Would you like something to eat? I don’t really have much here, but yeah.”
“No, I think it’s about time I went home.”
I walked her outside to the bright green Porsche in front of the house, watching her make soft steps in the gravel with her shoes in her hand. She pulled opened the door and prepared to leave.
“You need any help getting out of here?”
“I think I remember how to get out of here.Thanks.”
“Well, I’ll see you sometime later.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
She got in the car, her eyes continued to lock with mine. The whirr of the exhaust began to pour off the trees, and I stared at the rear wing of the Porsche disappear into the woods. I walked back through the open front door into the light pouring in from the windows.

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