Need for Speed by Brian Kelleher Page A

“What the fuck is
he
doing here?”
    â€œWho?” Peck asked.
    â€œHow many assholes do you know that drive a Mercedes SLR?” Finn asked.
    â€œAll of them,” Peck replied in perfect deadpan.
    â€œOh, yeah,” Finn replied, then said, “then, how many of them are named Dino?”
    They heard a car pull up a moment later. Through the bay door windows they could see it was in fact Dino’s Mercedes SLR. No one said a word. They watched as Dino got out of the car and looked around the outside of the garage, sniffing at the grease and grime. Then he headed for the open bay door.
    As one, the crew stood up and formed a united front at the threshold. There was no way they wanted Dino to enter the garage itself. This was their turf.
    Dino spotted them and immediately stopped in his tracks.
    He looked at Little Pete.
    â€œThat was some nice driving out there, short stuff,” he said, sucking up. “I’m impressed.”
    But Little Pete just laughed at him.
    â€œYou hear that, Tobey?” he said. “Dino Brewster is impressed with me. I can die happy now, I guess.”
    Tobey glared at Dino, but said nothing.
    Dino smiled thinly. “And there’s Mr. Tobey Marshall,” he said. “The man to beat in Mount Kisco . . .”
    Tobey looked him up and down, but still said nothing.
    â€œSorry about your old man,” Dino went on, in a very patronizing fashion. “I know you two were close.”
    Finally Tobey spoke. “Are you lost or something, Dino?”
    Dino had to think a moment.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” he asked.
    â€œYou haven’t been around here in a long time,” Tobey told him acidly. “Figured you must be lost.”
    Tobey took a step toward Dino to emphasize his words and make one thing clear: He was not wanted around here.
    â€œSo nothing’s changed then, Tobey?” Dino asked him. “Even after ten years you still want to just pick up some locker room fight?”
    But Tobey wasn’t really looking at Dino. He was looking at the Mercedes, searching for any sign of Anita.
    â€œShe’s at her folks’,” Dino told him, reading his mind. “This has nothing to do with her.”
    Tobey felt his shoulders droop. But at least she wasn’t with Dino.
    â€œSo what do you want, Dino?” Tobey finally asked him. “We’re busy here.”
    â€œIt’s simple,” Dino said. “I want to see you build a real car.”
    Tobey waved him off. “I got plenty of cars to build.”
    Dino took a look around the rough-edged garage. “Yeah, well, how’s that been working out for you lately?”
    Tobey gave him a hard look. Dino shrugged.
    â€œListen, Tobey, I didn’t come here to insult you,” he said, a bit of his attitude seeming to disappear. “I came here to make you a business proposition, something that could be a game changer for you.”
    â€œYou handing out dreams now, Dino?” Little Pete scoffed at him. “How much is this going to cost us?”
    Dino ignored him. He looked around the garage again.
    â€œI’ve seen a hundred custom racing shops since I left this town,” he said to Tobey. “But I still haven’t seen work as good as yours.”
    The garage crew was silent. None of them knew what to make of Dino’s compliment.
    â€œThat’s all the work of these guys,” Tobey said, pointing at the others. “That’s not me . . .”
    Dino took a breath. “Let me get right to the point,” he said. “I’ve got a very special car that needs to be finished.”
    â€œWhat kind of car are we talking about?” Joe Peck asked.
    â€œA Ford Mustang,” Dino replied.
    â€œA Mustang?” Joe said. “There’s only about a million of them out there.”
    â€œBut not one like this,” Dino told him. “It’s the last Mustang Ford and Carroll Shelby