Death Drive

Chapter 3

"Well, if it isn't the Highway Star himself!"

"Is he actually getting louder as time goes by or is it just me?" Thomas though as he closed the door to Jack Hugh's office with his free hand, the other holding a filled coffee mug. The owner of Jack's High Gear called everyone by nicknames which he settled on the moment he first met the person. Thomas had once brainstormed nicknames for Jack himself with Naomi, or Starry Eyes as he liked to call her, and had suggested "a possible candidate for coronary artery bypass surgery" which she had dismissed, citing its length and how Jack seemed too indestructible to ever need medical intervention of any kind. She had suggested "Teddy" as an appropriate moniker, which was something Thomas would never say out loud, but he could see what she meant: as Jack rose from his leather chair to welcome him, he reminded Thomas of a jolly bear on its hind legs. He was one of the few men Thomas had to look up to and was at least twice as wide as him, with greying brown beard and hair cropped short. His arms were nearly as hairy as his face. He was the gentle giant type of a large man, always greeting people with genuine warmth, invariably in good spirits. He was wearing his trademark cowboy hat and boots with jeans and a flannel shirt.

Thomas sat on one of two leather chairs opposite Jack. Between them was a heavy, dark desk upon which stood pictures of Jack's children from when they were still kids and a miniature of a Ford model T. On Thomas' both sides were bookshelves filled with car manuals, lecterns and mementos from Jack's many road trips. On the wall behind Jack hung a moose's head, its wide antlers almost touching the opposite walls of the cramped room.

"Morning, Jack. You needed something from me?" Thomas said, trying to cut to the chase. It never worked with Jack.

"So, Star, how was your weekend?" Jack asked, his face the epitome of calmness as he ignored Thomas' question.

"Nothing special." He shrugged, looking Jack in the eye. He had spent most of his free time in the nearby bar, as per usual.

"Hm-hmh," Jack hummed in an agreeable tone, nodding. "How's the car?"

"Like a dream" he answered, taking a deep sip out of his coffee.

"Good to hear, good to hear" Jack said, leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers on his large belly. Thomas sensed that he was about to get to the point.

"So, the woman from the advertising agency called," Jack began: "The shoot's this Thursday. Have you worked on your lines?"

Thomas' already subpar mood sank. They were launching a new advertising campaign where he was to play a major part due to his past fame. He found the idea of appearing on an advertisement reading cheery catchphrases humiliating, like he was part of a baseball team, but as a mascot instead of a player.

"This will really help our business," Jack continued, leaning forward when Thomas didn't immediately answer. "We certainly won't have to downsize."

Thomas raised his slumped posture slightly. "I'll get the lines right." Jack certainly knew which strings to pull. Even if it wasn't Thomas' first choice of a workplace, he still enjoyed High Gear. Despite its tacky interior design, the place had grown on him, and his coworkers were his last connection to mankind. Thomas was also the type to take one for the team. The dealership and its employees were a familiar oasis in a world which didn't really suit him anymore and even Jack's at-times overbearing cordiality mostly just amused him instead of causing annoyance. The dynamic of him being the foil to the exuberant patriarch had cemented itself over the years, but they both knew it was part of the joke.

"That's the spirit!" cheered Jack, showing him two thumbs up. "Does the old suit still fit?"

"I haven't tried it on." His old racing overalls had hung untouched in his apartment closet since his racing days ended, years ago.