Chapter Text
Louise. That was the name bestowed upon her. It means renowned warrior, and it was exactly what she was.
She was a woman with strong beliefs for as long as she could remember. When she was around ten, she had stolen a horse from a nearby farm and rode off into the sunset, spent the night outside and came back to her family with as little as a hello. Her parents had stopped worrying about her after that, and she didn’t even blame them.
She wasn’t an only child, but she might as well have been. All of her eventual siblings were younger than her, and they came so much time after her birth that she spent most of her childhood with her parents, learning things from her mother, but most importantly from her father.
The man was a quiet yet hard working man, and she had grown to love every second by his side ever since he opened the hood of a car in front of her and worked his magic on it. His father was a mechanic, the best in his area, and treated the cars he had to fix like sons.
And she almost felt them like brothers. Growing up she learned from him what to do, the ins and outs of engine repair as well as other… less than legal activities. Like, how to make a car go faster.
Much faster.
The first time she had gone truly fast, they were doing a test drive. Cars didn’t even really have seat belts back then, yet she still remembers clearly the thrill of the drive, the need for speed. Her father was an expert driver, but the times she spent with him in their car trying to make it faster were the most treasured ones.
And it was with him that she had made her first run from the cops, in a dark wood, in the shine of the moon. Indeed, as the name implies, it was her very first time carrying fresh batches of Moonshine. And she loved every second of it, from the branches bending to let them through to the dirt slipping under the wheels.
When they had come back, her mother had been much less thrilled and had made her promise to never do something like that ever again. She had her fingers crossed.
There was only one thing she loved more than to speed with her father in their family’s car. And that was to compete against other who were doing just the same thing.
She was around seventeen when the races first came to a nearby town. Her mother and younger siblings had wrongly chosen against it, so when her father turned to her to ask if she wanted to come, she was already wearing shining purple robes, even better than the ones she wore to church. She was ecstatic.
And she was even more ecstatic once she saw it all unfold before her very eyes.
Shining cars bolting right in front of her, the rumble and roars of the engines, the clouds of smoke from the dirt below them and the sweet smell of gasoline filling the air. Everything just worked, just clicked together, everything just made her love it so much. From the presentation of the drivers to the very ending ceremony, she watched it all starry-eyed. And from that point forward, she knew what she wanted to do in her life. She knew she had found her place and possibly her people.
But not everyone was of the same idea.
Her mother was openly against it, her father was neutral about it, because he had taught her how to drive after all and knew she would have the guts. Her siblings mocked and teased her, saying that it was not a sport for women, that she couldn’t even drive in a straight line due to all the time she spent in the wringing woods. And how wrong would they be proved.
She worked hard, and reached an agreement with her father to get some money for herself. They would share the cars that came in for repairs, and then share the money depending on how much each worked. She was getting faster at working on them, faster than her father and with equal mastery. She got the money she needed in a blink and used almost all of it to buy a car.
She had eyed it for some time, knew what she wanted. People usually looked down on her because she was a girl, but by the time she was nineteen everyone who had a car around town knew her as the daughter of the mechanic, and someone who worked just as hard as him.
The man who was selling tried to coax her towards a more practical, smaller, slower and more feminine car. She had none of it. She never had much patience for anybody.
Eventually she just paid for the car she wanted with the money she had, and walked straight out of the store, keys in hand and a great grin on her face.
She loved that car, how much she did. A Nash Ambassador. She loved the curves, the lines of the lights, the general shape. It was like having a bigger sister for the first time.
The paint was a calm canary yellow. She knew next time she had the money she would get it painted a shinier color, but before that she would have to get a house or build it herself and detach herself from her parents. She was positive she could do it within the next year, because she had a better idea to make money with, rather than working as a mechanic for her father.
She walked straight in and put the money on the counter. The sound of it was enough for the man to raise his hat and gaze on her.
He smirked. The last thing he needed was for someone to show up ten minutes before the beginning of the race.
“What do you want, little miss?”
“To race.” She nimbly replied. Just by looking at him, the way he looked at her, she could tell what kind of man he was. There were so many like him, men who came to leave their cars saying ‘don’t let the girlie work on it’.
The man gave her a look, casting it down again on the sheet of paper in front of him. Just a bunch of numbers were written, nor the name of the driver, nor the type of car. He reply to her affirmation, nor made a move to scribble something on that paper. Either he was waiting for her to resign, or he just ignored her.
“I have the money. Enroll me.” She punched the cash down with her hand, making the man jolt and the desk almost bend. The man looked baffled, from the sheet to her and turned around hoping to catch someone else’s attention.
Yet another man in a black suit and tie came forward, with a much sterner look, like a father would give scolding a child. His voice was like rotten honey.
“Listen here, gal. This is no place for someone like you”.
“What if I can prove you wrong.” She spat out, not letting him add any more words. She leaned on the counter with a furrowed brow. “I know what I’m going up against, and assure you I can race.”
“I will need someone’s assurance for that. Like your father or husband.”
“That’s not in the rules, now is it?” She replied, stern, ripping the singular sheet of paper from the counter. Before anyone could see anything, she wrote in thick black pen two numbers: 94. “I’ll be number 94.” She simply slid it across the table.
The other man crossed his arms, his gaze now revealing in full his anger.
“Do what you will, we won’t let your car through.” Her smile became coy.
“Oh but I’ve already done that. Actually, I just need the number.” She looked around. Behind the man still at the desk, there were a bunch of stickers in the shape of number. She just needed a 9 and a 4. There were no 9s, but they were just upside-down 6s. “I’ll take that”.
She jumped over the counter and fetched the two stickers, booting it as soon as she felt them in her hands and not even looking back. She ended up with four, but at least they were the numbers she needed.
People started swarming around her, and made a grab for her, but she was pretty nimble and fast. Her reflexes were ready from driving into the forest that many times.
And the time was just right too, the race was to being in less than five minutes. She ran between the other racer’s cars that had begun moving to get into the small dirt stadium, and reached hers with still a bit of time on the clock. She was going to start last, but she really didn’t mind. Her mind was set on going fast, and as far as she was concerned, her car had all the right modifications.
She put the number on the car door, before bolting inside. Officials were starting to panic and shout at each other, yet by the time they had correctly detected her she was running into the stadium along with all the other racers.
Things were much simpler back then. Basically no green flag, everyone was put a bit here and a bit there. When the cars entered the field, it was game.
And she was very much inside the field now.
Initially, she squealed. She couldn’t really believe she was in the race now, she had made it! The first step to her plan was complete, now she just needed to have fun, and hopefully, grab a place on the podium against the other thirty-something racers.
The thrill of the race was incredible. She was standing on the edge of her seat, her feet moving like butterflies on the pedals. Accelerate, shift. Let out gas, then shift again, break. Make the turn, accelerate. Shift.
Her heart pumped, almost to a throbbing rhythm. Her breath was hectic but she still found within herself the nerves of steel to guide the car down the line she wanted to take. Driving on dirt was not her problem, if anything it was her strength.
The shining new car was going to get a few scratches here and there, but what she was feeling every second made it worth it.
And it was so much different than what she did with her dad. Now there were people around her, people doing the same exact things, working towards their goal. Towards that golden trophy.
And the fans. The people, shouting and cheering and loving their every move. The ecstasy of being there, in her place, doing what she would think she loved. And how much did she love it.
She worked her way through the other cars. Despite starting more or less last, her car was doing wonders. Someone was going so slow it was really easy to overcome him, others were fearful of her almost aggressive approach, and simply let her through.
But it wasn’t all just a give, she was always on the look out for any chance. Any opening she would see, she would take. It was another reason why she had chosen that older Nash Ambassador: it was a very sturdy car.
Someone touched her on the side, but the vehicle didn’t even notice it. It didn’t change its line at all, just kept going. And going.
And going.
Until only three cars were in front of her.
A black standard coupe, an older and mostly gray dirt track racer and the first: a shining, pompous dark blue Hornet. She didn’t often work on those cars, less than often, but it was hard to miss when the thing literally read ‘the fabulous Hudson Hornet’ on both sides. She grinned from ear to ear as she pushed her car even further. She was going to get on his tail, sooner or later. And beat him.
The white flag was raised, meaning last lap. She gripped the steering wheel and grinned her teeth. Her hands were almost trembling in a last rush of adrenaline. She would make it a race to remember.
Third place wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all, considering this was her first race. The first was that racer in the blue car, and he got handed the trophy. She clapped a bit, still high from the race, until someone bumped her with much larger shoulders, throwing her off.
As she was turning to have a word, she spied a tall man exiting the gray car, number 34, looking cross if not openly angry. She recognized him as the guy who came in second, but another man obscured her view. He was wearing all black, like his car which was standing right behind him, engine still on.
He was number 11, the black coupe, the racer she passed at the very last second before crossing the finish line.
“Listen here, you little-!” He shoved his closed fist her way, but she was quick enough to take a step back and make it miss. That angered him more. “How dare you!”
Might as well play this to her advantage, she thought as she put on a smirk.
“It’s your fault for getting surpassed, definitely not mine. You forgot the right pedal accelerates?” The man made a step in her direction, readying another fist.
“Junior, stop.” The man from the gray car came to put a hand on his shoulder. Then he turned to her, his expression had not really changed but he looked to have better self-control, or tact. “This is an official tournament, miss. You can’t just come in!”
“Oh, but I rightfully paid to enroll. It looks like you’re missing this detail.” She replied, putting a hand to her chest. “And I came in third. Next time, you’ll see, I’ll best you too!”
“This is not a game! Go back to your husband!” The one named Junior spat. “And let me go, River!” It was her moment.
“Looks to me like you’re just angry you lost to a chick.”
“You sick son of a-” The other said again, starting to swing his arm, but she was very fast on her feet, almost as fast as she was at shifting gears and leapt out of the way, heading right for her car. She got on it, before the two men could move through the crowd of people and reporters she had skipped easily. She turned the engine on, but before getting ready to storm off, she sent a last glare and a shout their way.
“And I think you meant ‘daughter’!”
The ride back was incredible. She considered speeding but she was already running low on gas because of how she had pushed her car. Still, the smile she couldn’t wipe off her face. She came this close to winning, she came in third! From last! Just think what she could have gone if she had not started in the very back. She could have won, maybe! She could have beaten that pompous blue guy!
But it wasn’t just the trophies and recognition that still lured her in. Just simply the action.
Running that fast, through the clouds of smoke and quite literally making the others ‘eat her dust’. Oh how much she loved it! She could do it for hours, and well, it had been a good hour. Her heart had stopped beating as fast, but she remembered so fondly how rapidly it pumped in her chest. She had never quite felt something like it. She loved the feeling, and would do anything to never let it go!
She already had plans, she knew when and were the next race would be.
In two weeks. It was across the state, but she had stored money to make the drive and pay the entrance again. Which put her into a positive mood, because she had come third, and while only the first one won actual cold hard cash, second and third got a discount for the next race in line. With the discount money, she could afford enough gas to make her way through the state. It could work, she would most definitely make it work!
However, yet again, it looked like she was the only one to think it that way in her house. Her mother was livid to see her come back so late. She at least hoped she was with a boy and had yet to find a phone to tell them, but was terrified when she saw the number on the side. She was even more angry to realize her daughter had not been keeping the promise all that time.
Her brothers were angry with leaving the house for a stupid race she had not even won, and third place had not been enough for them. Her father at least simply nodded to her, not finding the courage to speak his mind in his wife’s domain.
As if that had not been enough, her mother took away some of her money to pay back the damage to the car. It was Louise’s car, she argued she could do anything she wanted with it, yet her mother insisted to get the paint fixed when it was not even broken, took too much money from her savings and gave it to her dad of all people. Like she couldn’t have done that herself.
Worst of all, she got grounded. She was forced to do housework in all her free time, her brothers were even more of a menace knowing they wouldn’t have to clean up any of their mistakes. When she wasn’t sleeping or doing housework, she was working nonstop in her father’s workshop.
Days slipped by so fast she almost missed the day of the race. While she was cleaning the dishes, she heard a voice she recognized on the radio, but couldn’t quite focus on the name until a reporter spoke it out loud.
“Thank you for the interview, River Scott! And you, Mr. Moon? Would you like to add anything?” Her hair perked up on the back of her neck, remembering the faces now. It was the man that had almost punched her when she had taken his first place. The one in the black car and the other in the gray one. Number 34 and number 11.
“Yes, actually.”
“Learn to lose, scumbag.” She murmured. Less nice words came to the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back down because one of her younger siblings was in the room.
“To number 94 that got my podium place last time.” She let out a growl as the sponge squeaked in her hands, on the plates, letting out a great part of the dish washing liquid and water with it. If only she could, she would go there and smoke him personally! “We have a score to settle. If you don’t come here, I will come to your house specifically and we will have another go. I don’t care if you can’t, you will lose to me and I won’t accept a no show as an answer!”
She turned her head to the radio. It was not what she expected to hear. She expected a threat, something like that, and while the words had not been nice, they were not completely hostile either. It felt more like… an invitation?
The guy kept talking but the microphone must have been pried away from him because his voice became lower in volume and muffled. The reporter continued with a shaky laugh.
“Oh well, we certainly do hope number 94 will come! Nothing quite like what he did last week!”
“It’s a she!” Junior screamed, voice barely audible. Even the reporter seemed taken aback.
“Oh… oh, okay. Let’s hope… uh, she comes here then? U-Until next time, here on RSN!”
Some advertisement started to play in the background, and her slow movements on the plates resumed. Her people called her. The track of the race across the stated wished for her to be there, and her heart was already there doing practice laps. She… she wanted to make the drive, she really wanted to race, truly, but… but…
“Lou?” She perked up again, and turned around in less of a second. Her old man was standing on a chair, newspaper in hand, but was looking at her intently now. She faced back to the sink, and rinsed a few utensils, shoulders dropping.
“Louise, look at me.”
She sighed. Why couldn’t it just be a normal Thursday afternoon? She slowly turned around, turning the water off.
“Why. I know you don’t want me to go.”
Her father stood up, opened the door and made sure the quite noise of his wife ironing were still continuing. He smiled to her.
“Come on, I want to show you something.”
She rinsed her hands on her apron and followed. They walked out of the house, into the garage that was behind their home. Three cars were standing there: her father’s, one of her younger brothers (that their parents had bought him, actually) and hers.
Except it was different.
She kept her breath for a moment, eyes darting from the vehicle to her dad, back and forth. She only found his sweet smile on one end, and a spectacular yellow and soft pink paint job on the other. On the side of her prized car, the number ‘94’ was neatly stuck. It was no longer the hazardous move she had made, right before entering her car for the very first race, but they had been nicely aligned.
She brought her hands to her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.
“Do you like it, Lou?”
“You did this for me?” She asked in a whisper. The man nodded, and his smile became even softer as he walked towards the vehicle.
“I read the news on the paper the other day. There was a photo of you competing, you know? I’ve never seen you so happy, grinning from ear to ear. Not even on your first Christmas, I think. That’s your element, Lou. If it makes you so happy, that’s where you belong.” He said, turning to bonk the now pink top of the car. “How about you take us for a drive, huh?”
The next race, she was even more pumped. With one more encouragement from her father, the promise to keep it hidden to her family should the need arise and a good pat on the back, she was ready.
The stadium was a bit bigger than last time, but the shape was more or less the same oval. There were just so many more people, and she couldn’t help but notice, so many more women on the seats looking for something. When a few of them caught her gaze, they patted on the side of their friends and pointed at her. She usually smiled in their direction, and waved back.
Maybe this time, entering would be a bit easier.
And yet, she was proved very wrong.
“What do you mean you won’t let me join?! I’m here, and I can pay, just like last time!” The man behind the chair was a different one, with a sterner look. He kept looking at her from top to bottom with a sly smile she hated. She just wanted to punch him in the face, honestly.
“I’m sorry, little missy, but I really cannot. This is a sport where the big ones play. Big, strong, men. This is not a place for little girls like you.”
“I’ll have you know sir I’m more than eighteen and I already have a third place under my belt!” She shouted back. She could feel her face becoming red because of all the angering and shouting. Any more of that bantering, and she was sure to never enroll the race. They would begin without her, stall her here until three o’clock rolled around and things would be game.
She wouldn’t take it. She was getting ready to shout some more in his direction but another voice stopped them.
“I don’t see a problem with this.”
She turned around, ready to face another man who thought would be better than her at anything, but was surprised to find and average tall guy with thick black hair and a blue suit, one she vaguely recongized. The number 51 was engraved on his shoulder and it all became clearer.
It was the Hudson Hornet. Or- err, the fabulous Hudson Hornet? It still didn’t feel right, but nobody made fun of the driver for it.
She had yet to meet him and talk to him, that much was sure. But if her first encounter with other racers had given her the idea of how they were, she was going to have to punch him too in the face. One pompous man was everything she could civilly handle at the moment, and the one behind the desk was taking the cake.
“Mr. Hudson! W-what can we do for you?”
“Let her race.” He simply replied shrugging. The whole room fell silent and Lou was at a loss of words for the first time in forever. Was he… was…
“Bu-”
“If you’re so sure she won’t be able to race, she’ll come last and it won’t be a problem for you, won’t it?” The racer cut him off, but then crossed his arms. “Also, you didn’t give Junior any discount, since he was fourth. Which means you accept this one coming in third, don’t you?”
Not a fly moved in the room. Everything was gloomy silence. “So?”
“I… We… uh.” The man at the desk tried to reply, but in the end he had to give up under the watchful gazes of the people in the room, scribbling the number 94 down on a list. This time, the sheet of paper was a table, and only in one was written the number.
“Name, license and payment, uh… miss?”
She shoved the cash on the table, as well as her document. In a time that would have been far less if the guy wasn’t shaking so much, she was registered for the race. And since she was not planning on racing too clandestine this time, she had a bit more time to prepare herself mentally.
Which was turned to five minutes anyway because the man was being a prick. Go figure.
She and the racer got out of the small office together, walking towards their respective cars. Stopping by her Ambassador, the man turned to her and offered a handshake with a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Hudson”. He simply said. She knew it was the manufacturer of the car, but maybe it was his surname too? If so, she failed to make that connection.
“… Nash.” She replied, shaking his hand as firmly as she could, and their eyes locked for the very first time.
Those handsome starry blue eyes. They were unlike any she had ever seen before. So pure, so calming, almost like gazing into the ocean itself, slowly sinking into his hold and…
“See you on the field.” He replied, taking his hands away and walking over to the fabulous Hudson Hornet. She remained still for a second. She was as if petrified.
Her heart had started beating too fast the moment he had turned around. She had felt like that only when racing, yet she was off her car, on her feet, standing completely still. Her breath wasn’t shaking but it was almost there. Her cheeks felt hot and she could swear her face was still red, but not due to all the yelling this time. Something inside of her both soothed and thrilled her. That feeling, it was unknown but not unwelcome.
She slipped into her car as fast as possible, sinking into herself and dodging every gaze that now seemed to be on her. She was a strong woman, a warrior, she always had been, so why did she feel so… so weak now?!
She covered her face with her hands, feeling the heat leak through her fingers. What was happening to her, what had he done?
“Curse, you fabulous Hudson!”
And, well, fabulous he was. He really was.
Those thoughts surprised her again as she was overcoming people during the race. This time she had started in the middle of the pack, and it was so much easier and less time consuming to get back to the top four.
She overcame Junior just as she had the last time, faking going on the inside and then gunning it on the outside. On her rear-view, she saw the man bang on his steering wheel, playing the horn once too by mistake.
She cackled as she approached his next victim, the one named River. With a well-taken curve, she surpassed him on the inside too, and she still had many more laps to go to get first place as well. She had it in the bag, if only she could…
Would he be more impressed if she overcame him from the inside or outside?
She shooed that thought away, and luckily it didn’t transmit over to the car. The pink and yellow Ambassador kept going into a straight line, until she approached the curve. The veil of sand was obscuring the Hornet and she couldn’t see it clearly, but every time the cloud of said thinned out, she found him staring at her in his rear-view mirror. His face unreadable, yet so…
Stop thinking about it! Come on, Lou, what is happening to you?!
She felt her cheeks grow red again, every time she thought their gazes locked. She felt her heart throbbing even more in her chest, pounding so had it might as well come out. She slowly made her way to his back, keeping the two cars almost locked together, yet never touching. She had never done anything like it, and she was not even considered such a strategy.
She was doing it to reduce drag, surely, not look at him as closely as possibile.
Stop that thought, Lou! Concentrate! And not on him!!
“How are you doing this to me!!” She quite literally shouted and hoped the rumble of the engines would cover it. She jerked the wheel right on the last turn, and…
and…
The footage had to be watched over and over again. Thankfully, cameras were quite advanced and reviewing it frame by frame was not an issue anymore.
Long moments passed, and she felt more cross every second of it. Should she be the one to speak again? Maybe she could tell him to take first place anyway, put it on a more sarcastic tone by adding that she would get him next time, and that she surely wasn’t doing it to impress him, but on the other hand she probably shouldn’t give her first place away like that for… for…
She shouldn’t give it away in any case!
The one she had deprived of third place last time, Junior Moon, had somehow made it back to third. And River was deemed fourth, but looked pretty chill about it, even if both men were eyeing her suspiciously.
Reporters were already giving news of it on the radio, registering it for the tapes, calling it a historical moment and whatnot. She was feeling even more tense than before. Her heart was beating, but this time it carried yet another emotion. Her arms were trembling by her side as she was leaning on her car, almost gripping the inside of the hood. But it wasn’t just anxiety about the outcome of the race.
She didn’t know what she’d enjoy the most. Being able to tell the man he had won, and that snarky comment about seeing each other again, or actually winning her first trophy, coming back with it in tow to her family to prove they were not.
And the wait, atop all of that, was killing her.
“First time?” The two dark racers had come closer without her even noticing. One of them had two cans of something cold and offered one to her. She had been wary about them the whole race, and wasn’t going to fall from such a trick. It was indeed Junior who was handing her the drink, and he sighed as she barely glanced at the drink and answered the question instead, stating the obvious.
“I just started racing.” The man covered in black let the unopened can stand on the hood of the car, still radiating heat. He sat on it, the other guy close too.
“Well, beginner’s luck then. Ow!” Scott sent him a death glare and smacked him in the arm, and Junior sighed rolling his eyes. “Alright. Look, I’m sorry I almost punched you last race. I’m not used to getting overcome at the very last second, it threw me off.” He got the can again and pushed it in her hands this time. “Just take it.”
She didn’t have much choice but to get it and opened it in one quick motion. It wasn’t her favorite drink, but to fight off the summer heat it would do just fine.
“You ever come in first?” She asked, after sipping it. Before Junior could answer, River interrupted.
“He did, yeah, but none since Hudson’s come around.”
“Is his name actually Hudson?” She asked, leaning forward to get a better shot of the man. He was beaming, instead of the furrowed brow the other was wearing.
“As far as I know, sure. River Scott, by the way.” He said, giving her his hand to shake. She did it too, but she somehow found herself hoping it would have been the fabulous’.
Speaking of which, he was right on the other side of the infield, sipping from a canned drink too. Should she go and ask him something?
“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for your patience, we have reviewed the footage and finally have a winner!”
They all got down from the hood of her car and looked over to the announcer, in a small wooden cabin. He was grinning from ear to ear as his sight fell on her.
“Louise Nash!”