Down Jersey Drive-shaft

Chapter Six: The Tough Get Going

La Donna veers into Barber's Basin, an emerald bat with piercing high beams. Brakes screech as Miss Musa slams her baby into park inside the hangar. The massive garage door closes, as two young ST bucks peer out into the horror movie night, looking for Slicks to land on their heads at any time. Crank had radioed the alert on the mad dash. No war comes to the Basin, yet.

"Are you insane?" Benny's got the high pitch going again as he exits the Crankmobile. "You call that driving? That was driving to you?"

Frederica gets out, slams her door shut. Like an angry tot, she storms off, arms swinging perfectly straight, head battering ram forward, lips in a 'looks even better when she's angry' bend. She heads for the dome break room. Benny follows, whining about machineguns and store eaves. The other two guys follow, but not due to nosiness. Something's going on. They're pointing the opposite direction and stuttering, but the mechanic and pilot are too caught up in their tussle.

The door to the dome slams shut. Crank takes a seat and crosses her arms high up on her chest. The door rips open before slamming again. Here's Benny! He wags a lecturing finger at his partner. She puffs her cheeks, looks the other way. "Listen here, sweetheart! I don't know what you thought that was on Broadway, but it's reckless driving in my book! And don't even think about blaming me this time for the Stylemaster's dings!"

The door creeps open, as the two young bucks stride in. This is not indifferent Bobby Meyer. Nope. It's Ninny, as in of the nervous persuasion, a nail biting Joe fresh from the bloody rice fields of the Far East. He's accompanied by Skinny Bubba, the hangar's lone colored mechanic (ST doesn't discriminate...unless you chose to be a dame). At six foot five, he's only skinny in his ankles. They try to interrupt...

"Hey guys!"

"We're talking here!" Benny roars. Crank keeps up the holding breath routine.

"But guys - -!"

"I said we are talking here! Where was I? Oh yeah. Look Crank, I can get over the fight with the ladies, the crazy movie like German cinema gone haywire, even the Slicks changing course. But you gotta clue a fella in on your mad tactics! What's the benefit of destroying half of West Broadway, except making Motherville's job easier?"

"Benny!" Crank snaps the name like a bullwhip. Hands ease down to the hips like flesh triggers for her gun of a mouth. "Now is not the time, okay! I care about Say-lem just as much as anybody else, but at the end of the day, I'm the only one who's going to pay for it!"

"Yeah, speaking of paying..." Ninny interjects.

Benny leaves Frederica to roll up in Ninny's haggard face. "Listen Brother! I don't know why it's so blamed hard to get you to understand the English language, but this talk is between me and my partner. Bad enough Calamity Jane just about got us killed with her lack of field experience, but now I gotta come here and chew you slackjaws out? Mind your own business!"

"Ease up, Dad!" Skinny Bubba offered it nice, but a voice that deep from a cat that tall, well...

"Stop calling me Dad! Why is everyone calling me that! Can we stay on topic for one - -?"

The door to the dome opens again. This time, the guy entering doesn't have on a one-piece jumper, or greasy rags in his back pocket. Oh no. This cat comes well groomed, spit and polish, the whole shebang. He's a tall guy, six-one maybe, but his uniform silences the room. It's black as night, crisp with three gold buttons on the leather jacket and a rectangle of funny  insignias on the upper left pocket. Pants are pressed, black shoes reflect the light. He wears black leather driving gloves this blond man under the dark ST cap. He reminds Benny of Joseph Cotten.