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Pulling into Celeritas, it’s dark and well past the time when everyone has gone home for the night. The LaFerrari rumbles along the brick-lined inner roads, idling past the administration buildings and winding along the dimly lit walkways. I drive us past the factory buildings to the farthest part of the complex and pull up to a heavy iron gate. I push the button for the window to go down.
“What are you doing?” Mallory asks as I pull my wallet out and wave my keycard past the security reader and the gate creaks to life.
“Proving it.” Pulling in, the test track comes into view under the headlights. I hop out and throw the switch for the track lights and the expanse of the winding asphalt lights up. Now I’m glad I brought this car and not the school bus, after all, since Mallory wants to challenge me.
Hopping back into the car, her eyes are wide and she’s clutching the door panel. “You like when I drive you, yes?” I ask and start tightening down her seat belt harness, snugging her into the seat as much as I can.
“What? Yes, but, what are you doing?”
“In the corners, try as hard as you can to keep your head pushed back into the seat,” I push her head back and show her. This car won’t pull the g-forces that an F1 car will, but it’s still going to be way more than she’s used to with that delicate little neck.
“Lennox,” she grips one of my wrists cinching her belts and locks eyes with me.
“You know when I’m the most out of control? When I’m in the car on track. And when I’m with you.” I tuck back into my seat and attach my harness. “You let me know when you trust me.”
I change a few settings on the car’s control panels and pull out onto the track. I start slowly and look over at Mallory, still clutching the door panel but she squints at me and then bites her lip. “You want to get out?” I ask just to make sure. Again, asshole, not monster.
She shakes her head no.
Game on.
I nail the throttle to the floor and Mallory screams, the acceleration shoving her back into the seat with force she cannot control, her hands desperate to find anything to hold onto, as if that will help her. In under three seconds, we’re past sixty miles per hour and before the first corner a few seconds later, one-twenty-five.
Mallory screams as we fly into the first corner at speeds that look impossible to most people. My fingers working the paddle shifter, I downshift and slide the rear end out as the car drifts along the width of the asphalt. Mallory’s hair is flying out in front of her body and she’s board stiff screaming her head off.
I straighten the car
out and then upshift through a series of left-right chicanes, the speedometer climbing past one-hundred-fifty as we cut each apex and the screams and four-letter words next to me escalate.
Sailing through the next sweeping corner, the car totally sideways yet going exactly where I intend it to despite the unnatural position of the steering wheel, I taunt Mallory some more. “Say the words, love.”
“Fuck youuuuuuuu,” she cries, her body board straight and a death grip on the handles she’s found to clutch for dear life. The engine is roaring, nine-hundred-fifty horses shrieking in the night alongside Mallory. All the instrument panels lite up flashing the status of all the hybrid systems and gears I’m flying us through.
Diving onto the straight, the car opens up and when we pass two-hundred miles per hour and Mallory sees the number she screams again. Into the next turn, I hold the throttle wide open until the last possible millisecond and throw the car sideways again. Mallory tries, unsuccessfully, to get her gravity-defying hair out from in front of her face.
“Remember KERS, baby? Let’s hit it.”
“Nooooooooooooo,” she screams.
“Oh yes,” I laugh and climb past two-hundred-thirty mph on the long straight then slam the brakes into the hairpin, Mallory’s body now kept in the seat only through the strength of her harness. I throw my right arm over her chest anyway, instinctual move, and swing up through the hairpin with my left hand.
She latches onto my arm and is digging her nails in screaming. “You want me to keep this up with one hand? Fine by me, but your choice.” She releases my arm then grips it back then releases, more screaming.
The car rocks and shakes as I keep it in position squirreling around another corner and start the next lap. “Trust me yet?”
Her hands grip her harness and she tries to nod, I think. “Keep your head back. Say the words,” into Turn 1 again we go, the tires lighting up, blue smoke pouring off our wheels.
“I trust you!” She finally screams. “I trust you! I trust you!” I back off the throttle and she starts laughing maniacally, bouncing in her seat. “Holy shit, my heart!” The smile on her face is huge, her eyes saucers. I put a hand on her knee and she grips it, her palms covered in sweat. “Go again!”
I bust up laughing, “I’ve created a monster.”
I take us through another few laps until I’m pretty sure all four tires need replacing. Mallory still screams through all of them but she’s having the time of her life.
And I’m on top of the world.
At the far end of the track, I do a few donuts for her then bring the car to a stop and kill the engine amidst the plumes of blue smoke surrounding us. “I think I peed a little,” she giggles and catches her breath, palming her crazy hair back down.
“You pissed up my LaFerrari? Wow,” I tease her.
