Dominic sped down the freeway toward Monrovia, California.  Only forty-five minutes from LA, he was near enough to his sister to be at ease, and closer than the cops would expect him to be.  True, he didn’t know a soul in Monrovia, and he was bleeding freely from a stomach wound, but when had little things like that ever stopped him before?  Never, he decided, and pulled off at the next exit.

            Arcadia shores sounded like a nice neighborhood, so he turned right and scanned all the houses before choosing one residence to be his for the next few days.  A house by itself in a cul-de-sac.  A pleasant two-story cream stucco with a fieldstone walkway.  The driveway contained a white Civic with a fine silver spider web etched on the roof. Dom figured he could take his chances with a racer-wannabe and turned off the engine of Brian’s—well, technically his--  car.   The walk up the driveway was unbelievably painful, and Dom’s last bit of energy was used to ring the doorbell before passing out cold on the porch.

            Dom heard a soft female voice humming Creed’s “What’s This Life for?”, and sat up.  “Mia?” he asked hopefully.  A girl of about 22 walked into the room then.  His face twisted in confusion, then clarification came as he recalled the events of the last few days.  Now he was in some strange person’s home, being doctored by… a girl?  “Sorry, no.  I’m Sahara,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee.  “I was gonna ask about your, um, wound, but everyone kinda already knows.”  Dom registered this and stopped sipping his coffee.  “Everyone?  Everyone knows what?” he asked, his voice rising in alarm.  s shook her head to ease his fears, and explained.  “Everyone on the circuit.  Racing circuit.  We heard you got backstabbed by some undercover job and were runnin’.  I figured he gave you that as a going away present.”  Dom looked at Sahara strangely for a second, then laughed.  “You?  You’re on the circuit?  Man!”  he continued laughing and s sat down in a chair across from his bed.  “so that car out there is yours, and you actually drive that thing in races?  What you get up to, 120?” he roared, and winced as his stomach muscles protested at the abuse of contraction.  Sahara just smiled tightly and blinked.  “148 with a shot of Nos, 154 with two… I have three Nos cans… you want me to keep going up?” she asked and her eyes widened dramatically.  Dom’s smile faded.  “No shit, three?  You ever blow yourself up with that kind of rocket fuel under you?”  Sahara kept her smile on, but it came into her eyes this time.  “Not yet.”  she looked at him for a few more seconds in contemplative silence, then stood.  “I’m going to sleep.  It’s eleven thirty, by the way.  If you need anything, my room’s upstairs at the end of the hall.”  Dom watched her leave, then called out, “Thank you , Sahara.”  He response, “No problem, Dominic,” made Dom chuckle to himself.  My, but he was popular with people who didn’t even know him. 

            Two weeks later, Dom’s stomach was healed up, and he’d found himself a job and apartment… all under another identity of course, brought to him by Brian.  The cop gave him a new SS number, driver’s license and registration, and the keys to a brand new silver Mazda Eclipse Spyder with a black drop top and a souped-up engine.  “You can keep the Supra, man, just don’t come anywhere near LA in it, or they’ll find you before you even make it into the city.”  With a friendly hug, Brian handed Dom a picture and left.  It was a picture of Brian and Mia, holding a sign that read “We won the Race Wars, 2001!”  Dom smiled and watched the cop drive off.

            When he got to his apartment, Sahara was waiting for him at the door.  “I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes!  Where’d you go?” she asked, and took his keys from him, unlocking the door.  Sahara and Dom had become very good friends over the past two weeks.  She’d stitched him up and also kept him in on the Circuit news.  She’d always come in with some greeting from one of his old friends, sometimes she’d catch up with Mia and then tell him all about whatever they talked about.  “Yeah, she and Brian are still together.  Vince finally gave up after she told him that Brian had risked his own life to save his.  They moved Brian up to detective, you believe that?” she rambled, and Dom just nodded like he was listening.  “I got my new IDs today,” he said, looking up from the floor.  He held out the papers for Sahara, and she took them.  “Hmm, mister Mark Canotti… kinda has a nice ring to it, huh?” she joked, and handed him the papers back.  “It all looked real to me.  Too bad I ain’t Italian, huh?”  After a pause Sahara kept talking.  “Ok, you know I got put on probation and everything, right?  For racing?”  Dom just nodded.  “Um, I got pulled over last month, and since that broke my probation lines I have to take a course on defensive driving, and uh, I was wondering if… if you’d maybe--” “--Go with you?” Dom finished for her, and she smiled.  “Yeah.”

            The next Monday, Dom and Sahara drove up to the school where the course was being held.  Sahara pulled her white Civic up next to Dom’s silver Eclipse and smiled at him when their engines shut off.  “Yeah, we definitely have the best cars here,” she said proudly.  “You know I went to this school my freshman year?” she asked as she walked with him toward the building’s entrance.  “Nice teachers, bitchy students, man.  Everyone here was so rich and stuck up.”  Dom looked at her strangely.  “If you weren’t one of the rich ones, then how’d you get that house?” he asked, praying she wasn’t in the line of work he’d recently retired from.  “Oh... my ex-husband.  I tell ya, get married at 18, get a divorce three years later.  Just got the house as half of his estate.  He cried when he handed over the keys.”

            The classroom they were directed to had posters of RageATM on the walls, a dry erase board with “Good Luck, seniors! You’ll need it!”, and a pack of cigarettes on the desk.  The instructor came in right after Dom and Sahara sat down.  “Ok, kids, you’re here because you drive like psychos, and I’m gonna teach you how to obey traffic laws.”  The tall bald man took out a cig from his pack and lit it up.  Dom just smiled.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.  Just then, a girl Dom assumed was about 22, walked into the room and looked around.  “Hi, Emily, glad you made it,” the instructor said to her.  “Hi Mr. Haralson. sorry I’m late.”  Mr. Haralson waved his hand.  “Whatever.  You can take that seat right there,” he said, motioning to the chair beside Dom. 

            The first thing Dom noticed about Emily when she sat next to him was the way she smelled.  The fragrance of Roses drifted toward him and he smiled a bit, looking at her from the corner of his eye.  The second thing he noticed was her hair.  It was black, three inches past her shoulders, and wonderfully shiny.  Then he saw her face and was taken aback.  She had violet eyes.  Violet eyes, and her skin was olive, not the caramel color of himself or his sister.  What is she? he wondered.  Not Cuban.  Not Italian.  He’d never seen an Italian with violet eyes or a complexion that color.  The fourth and last thing that registered to him was that she was beautiful.  Wow, he thought, and his smile widened.

            “Ok kids, I’m gonna partner you up now.  When I call your name, find your partner and get the hell out of my room,” called out Mr. Haralson.  Sahara looked over at Dom and smiled, knowing they’d be partners.  “Sahara, you’re with Julie.”  Her face fell, and she quirked an eyebrow at her new partner.  “Mike, you’re with Georgia, Sam with Alex, Fiona with Josh, Mark with Emily, and Susana with Jody.”  Dom heard his new name called out and he looked at Emily.  Her violet eyes widened when he stood to introduce himself.  “Hi, I’m Mark,” he said, smiling when she stood also.  She came up to his shoulder.  “Emily,” she replied, and grasped the hand he held out for her.

            “So, whose car are we taking?” Emily asked.  Dom shrugged.  “Well, that’s mine, she said, pointing to a deep burgundy Cougar.  “Where’s yours?”  Dom took three steps to his left and patted the silver Eclipse.  “Yo, D—Mark!” came Sahara’s voice.  “Hey, I’m takin’ Julie’s car,” she said, then glanced at Emily.  “Emily, was it?” she asked, sounding a little jealous.  Emily nodded and looked at Dom.  “So, whose car?” she asked again, and Dom smiled. “Let’s take yours.”

            Dom obeyed all traffic laws while the lesson was taking place.  However, as soon as Mr. Haralson released them at the Kroger parking lot, he looked at Emily and smiled.  “What you got under there?” he asked.  Emily blushed.  “What?!”  Dom saw her dark pink face and clarified.  “Your car, what’s under the hood?  V-4, V-6?”  Emily sighed and shook her head.  “Oh!  I thought—nevermind.  It’s a V-6.”  Dom nodded and put the car in drive.  “Hold on to your ass,” he laughed, then gunned the car out of the lot, down the road, and back into the school.

            “Oh my God!” Emily laughed as she climbed out of her seat.  “You know you were going forty miles over the speed limit back there?”  Dom chuckled and looked up to find Sahara stalking toward him.  “That dumb-ass!” she yelled when she reached him.  “That stupid bitch reported me to Mr. Haralson!  I went fifteen over the limit and she reported me!”  Dominic could feel the anger radiating off of her.  “Calm down.  I’m sure Mr. Haralson won’t care too much.  I mean, he’s a little intense himself, huh?” he said to ease her mind.  She clenched her fists and glared in Julie’s direction.  “I swear to God…” she muttered, them looked back at Dom.  “I’m comin’ over tonight.  I’ll be there about 12.  Don’t fall asleep,” she said to him, then clomped off to her car, still pissed. 

            Emily watched her walk off, then turned to Dominic.  “So, is she your girlfriend?” she asked, a slightly disappointed look on her face.  Dom quirked an eyebrow.  “Sahara?  Naw, no way.  She’s just a friend.”  After a pause he continued.  “My girl and I had to split cuz we, um, ‘moved apart’.  Not really something I talk about, though.”  Emily frowned at that.  “It’s ok.  There are some things you just don’t talk about.  Exes are one,” she said, and smiled.  “Weird places you’ve had sex is another,” Dom said, smiling.  Emily blushed.  “Um, what color underwear you have on,” she supplied.  “Illegal business deals,” Dom said.  Soon they were on a roll and laughing so hard their cheeks hurt from smiling.  “Why don’t you follow me to my place, and I can make us some lunch,” Dom offered.  Emily smiled a bit.  “Sounds good.  Let’s roll.”

            Dom cooked up some pasta with Alfredo sauce.  If I have to be Italian I might as well make Italian food, he thought wryly.  Emily ate her share with enthusiasm.  “I forgot to eat this morning,” was her explanation.  Dom just smiled and watched her while he ate.  He was amazed at how beautiful she was.  He was still baffled by her background, though.  “Can I ask you a few things?” he questioned, wiping his mouth and leaning back in his chair.  “Sure,” Emily replied, and took a sip of her Coke.  Dom cleared his throat.  “So, I’ve been wondering… what are you?  I mean, are you Italian, Spanish?”  Emily smiled and shook her head.  “I’m Irish, British, and German.”  Dom looked confused.  “How are you, well, colored the way you are, then?”  “Well, I’m an eighth of a percent Blackfoot and Cherokee Indian.  And by the way, the eyes are fake,” she said with a smile.  She put her hands to her eyes and pulled out her contacts.  Her eyes underneath were a bright brown, sort of reddish, ringed with black.  Dominic thought her natural color was even more beautiful than the violet contacts.

            “Ok, that answers a few questions.  How old are you.  I guess twenty two, twenty three, but I’m not a good guesser.”  “No, you’re not.  I’m… turning 18 next month,” she said, and blushed.  “Damn!  No way.  You look so much older.  Damn…” he trailed, and mentally slapped himself.  “You keep saying damn like me being eighteen is a bad thing.”  Dom smirked.  “It is when I’m twenty-six,” he replied, and Emily shrugged.  “Big deal.  Age is just a number.”  “And experience, and maturity.  Everytime I say the word ‘sex’ you blush.”  And she did.  “I’m sorry!  Geez, Just cuz I’ve never… well, it’s one of those things that people around here never talk about,” she covered, but Dom caught her slip.  “You tellin’ me a girl as pretty as you never, uh, you know…?”  Emily blushed again and shook her head.  “It’s not like I’m dying, I’m just waiting for the right person.  Someone I can stand seeing naked!” she laughed.  Dom could imagine her naked, and once again mentally slapped himself.

               “… I told him, ‘You break her heart I’ll break your neck’.  He told me that’d never happen.  I have to believe him, now, you know.  My baby sister.  Damn,” Dom finished the story of how Brian and his sister got together, careful not to let on to anything too close to his real other life.  Emily propped her legs up on the coffee table and scooted down on the couch.  “Brian.  He sounds nice.  I think it’s good you gave him a chance.”  Dom shrugged and put his coffee mug down on the table.  “Well, my warning still stands.  I mean, it’s my little sister, you know?”  Emily quirked an eyebrow and smirked.  “Your little sister is three years older than me,” she laughed, and Dom understood.  Mia wasn’t a little anything anymore.  She could take care of herself.  “Yeah, well, it still stands,” he grumbled, and crossed his arms.

            Emily pulled his arms apart.  “Don’t sulk.  It’s not attractive,” she said, grinning.  Dom grunted.  “Picking your nose is unattractive.  Pulling a wedgie is unattractive.”  They both laughed a little, and Emily stood.  “It’s almost eight, Mark.”  Dom winced when she used his other name.  He got up as well, though, and rubbed his head.  “You doin’ that for good luck?” Emily asked, amused.  “Do I need it?” he asked back.  “I wouldn’t know what for,” Emily countered.  “Maybe you’ll stop blushing when I talk about sex…”  Emily blushed.  “Well, it didn’t work.”  She blushed again, then rolled her eyes.  “You know, you really need to stop that,” she said, and moved past him into the front hall. 

            “I’ll stop when you stop blushing,” he replied.  “I wont stop blushing about your encounters until I’ve had one of my own!  Give me some time!”  Dom raised his eyebrows.  “Time for what, exactly?”  Emily sighed.  “I told you, I’m waiting for that one guy who I can stand to see naked.  Something about naked guys just… I don’t know.  Not trying to sound like a lesbian or anything, but women just are easier to look at naked.”  Dom smiled.  “Everyone tells me I look pretty good naked.  You wanna see if they were telling the truth?”  Emily’s cheeks turned pink, and Dom laughed.  “There you go again!  That’s just gonna have to stop.”  “I can’t stop!  I told you!  Man, does it really bother you?” Emily asked.  “No, no it doesn’t.  Actually, it’s a nice look for you.  Flustered,” he said the last part in his gravelly baritone growl.  Emily’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked into his eyes.  If I do this, it’s so wrong, she thought.  Then again, maybe it’ll be so right.  With a slight hesitation Dom bent down, put his right hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her close.  “If I kiss you, will you turn pink?” he asked, barely above a whisper, and his voice made Emily weak.  She closed her eyes and shook her head ‘no’.  She didn’t see Dom’s smile of triumph, but instead felt full, soft lips on her own.  She relaxed and deepened the kiss slightly.  Then it was over. 

            She opened her eyes.  Dom kissed her lightly once more before opening the door for her.  “No blush,” he smiled.  She smiled back, then stepped outside.  “If I give you my number, will you call me?” she asked.  A nod.  She took out a slip of paper and a pen from her purse and scribbled it down quickly.  “Don’t forget,” she said as she handed him the paper.  With a last smile over her shoulder, she left.