Need for Speed by Brian Kelleher Page B

were building before Carroll died.”
    Suddenly everyone in the crew was paying rapt attention. Carroll Shelby was not only a rock star in the world of customized cars, he was considered the Godfather of street racing. To say he was an automotive genius was like saying the sky was blue or the sun was hot. Invoking his name was no little matter.
    â€œThousands of people would want to put their hands on a car like that,” Tobey said. “How did you get it? You steal it?”
    Dino ignored the insult.
    â€œMr. Shelby and my uncle were close friends,” he explained. He waited a moment, then continued, “Here’s the proposition: If you finish building that Mustang like you rebuilt your Gran Torino, I’ll give you a quarter of what I get when I sell it.”
    Little Pete exploded.
    â€œA quarter?” he exclaimed. “You cheap bastard!”
    â€œIf it’s done up right, the car will be worth two million, minimum,” Dino shot back. “That will be five hundred thousand dollars in your pocket.”
    The crew fell stone-cold silent. That kind of money had never been anywhere within their reach before. Dino and Tobey just stared at each other. There was a lot of history between them, all of it bad. Where was all this going?
    Dino broke the silence. “I look around here and I see a ton of talent and no opportunity,” he told them. “Face it, you guys are dying here. I mean, it’s obvious. So just forget everything that’s happened between us. That’s ancient history. I’m here to make peace. And money—for all of us.”
    Tobey’s crew exchanged worried looks. Each one knew this was wrong—trading with the enemy. The uneasy silence could have been cut with a knife.
    Dino went on. “Look, don’t answer me now, Tobey,” he said. “Just think about it.”
    As Dino turned to leave, Tobey looked back at his crew. He already knew their opinion on this.
    But then Tobey just shook his head. “I don’t need to think about it,” he said suddenly. “I’ll do it.”
    A gasp came up from the others.
    Dino smiled. “I’ll have it here tomorrow,” he told Tobey.
    There was no handshake. No good-bye. But Tobey and Dino exchanged a brief look of nonhostility, if not respect.
    Then Dino got back into his Mercedes and drove away.
    Someone turned off the music. The beer cooler was closed. An angry silence now enveloped the garage. Benny finally broke the spell.
    â€œI have one question for you, boss,” he said to Tobey. “Have you lost your fucking mind? We’re going to work for Dino Brewster?”
    Joe Peck stood up. He was the oldest one among them, their elder statesman.
    â€œYeah, what the hell, Tobey?” he asked. “You don’t want anything to do with that asshole.”
    â€œHe’s a bad guy,” Finn added. “And he’s always been a bad guy.”
    Benny spoke again.
    â€œWe don’t need that jackass, boss,” he said. “If this is about Anita, and getting her back, do that a different way, homie. Write a poem or some shit. ‘Dear Anita . . . nothing is sweeter than Anita. I really “anita” Anita . . .’”
    The crew laughed—all except Tobey. But Finn pushed on.
    â€œForget Dino,” he urged Tobey. “Tell him you’re out. We’re doing fine here without him.”
    â€œBut we’re not,” Tobey said, stunning them. “We’re not doing fine.”
    The crew was surprised to hear this—except Joe Peck. The conversation he’d overheard earlier suddenly made sense.
    â€œWell, many people are hurting, Tobey,” Finn said. “You know things have changed in this town. It’s a tough economy for everyone. Or mostly everyone.”
    Tobey thought for a moment.
    â€œLook. I’m way behind on the loan,” he finally told them. “The guy from the bank was