Grip - 4. Chapter 4

The morning after.

The atmosphere in Jae’s Garage was nowhere near as hectic as it was the day before, although Jae did have the stereo on, pumping the garage with some slow hip-hop. It was business as usual. Already many of the regular customers were parked inside and outside there for their regular tune-ups. Saturday usually meant a night of racing afterwards though nothing as big as last night. The night before was of those “Jae specials” that came along every now and then.

Following the events of last night, a tow truck had to be called to pull back Boomer’s wrecked Peugeot 206 GTi from the docks and back to the garage. After the race which had everybody talking, Max offered to help with anything involving the Peugeot 206. Saturday was his day off after all so it wasn’t a problem.

He also offered to chip in some of the money he had won that night in order to fix the Peugeot 206. Jae thought that was a little too much generosity as it was and instead offered Max full use of his garage and the tools inside for his tune-ups. Max accepted graciously. He loved the opportunity to be able to tune his ride in a professional garage again.

Mrs. Cooper was asked by Jae to take Boomer to the hospital. The kid looked alright after the crash but Jae didn’t want to take chances. Boomer was like a little brother to him. As for Vlad, he went home to his own garage at the other side of town but he did promise to meet with them at the next event which will, in all likelihood, pretty soon.

It was still pretty early in the morning and the only people in the garage were Jae and Max, the latter lying down on a rolling tray and under the Peugeot 206. Jae was standing by on the side.

He was having a long and patient conversation in Korean through his cell phone, his lips pouting out a little with each tirade that he was subjected to by a rather irate sounding woman on the other end of the phone.

He hated those conversations with his mother. Adamant to know why her thirty-two-year-old son was still single, bringing the usual amount of shame upon a family reputation that seemed wholly dependant upon his getting married.

Explaining, while keeping a respectful tone in his voice took effort, and he could feel Max’s eyes on him from beside the Peugeot 206, and he turned with an apologetic smile, as he excused him from the conversation and hung up.

“Forgive me,” he said sliding the phone into the pocket of his shiny windbreaker. “My mother is… well you must understand.”

“Not really,” said Max from under the car. “What’s up?”

Max slid himself out from under the car and got back onto his feet. He brushed himself off and put down the flashlight he was using on top of a large tool chest.

“She has found another… suitable young lady and feels I should go home to Korea to get married,” Jae explained. “She’d getting older and feels that a daughter-in-law would be a great help in the family restaurant.”

“She’s trying to marry you off so that she can get cheap labour?” Max asked in wonder.

Jae chuckled, “Marriage,” he said the word heavily accented like Marriage-E, “is not the same for us as it is in the West. It would be an honour for my wife to serve my mother…”

“Strange honour,” Max retorted, applying a wrench to a stubborn nut.

“You just don’t understand,” Jae walked to the small kitchenette and began to make a couple of cups of tea. “It goes back to age, the young respect the old.”

“Respect is earned,” Max stated firmly.

“Everything you do implies you think that way,” Jae said as he put on the kettle. “Go big, flashy and show them why they should respect you.” He smirked a little as he looked back at Max. “Just for some, respect has to be given in order to be granted back in return.”

Max gave him a long look. “Well how do you know, in your culture?”

“When to give respect?” Jae chuckled. “Well it’s really quite easy. It starts when you first meet someone, one of the first things we ask is how old the other person, and that sets the pattern for the relationship. For example, you and I. I am older than you, so you would call me Mister Jiang…”

“Really?” Max said, resting both hands on the hood and looking at the other man. “You know that just wouldn’t happen…” He paused and looked thoughtful. “You mean, I’d have to call you Mister Jiang all the time?”

“Jiang-ssi,” Jae corrected. “And yes, you would. It is the same for girl-boy relations.”

Max gave a cheeky grin, “Oh Mister Jiang…” he said, pitching his voice up to a falsetto, “Oh…Mister… Jiang…” he panted hard, before shaking his head and laughing. “Sex must be interesting…”

Jae fell silent, looking distracted as he finished making the two cups of tea. “First names are private, personal. We use them at home, when no one is around. Of course, being in Moscow, things are different here.”

“Yep,” Max agreed, accepting the cup of tea. He cradled it in his hands as he sat down on the front bumper of the Peugeot 206. “So what else, beyond the Mister-stuff?”

“Cultural education?” Jae inquired as he toed a stool towards him and bounced down upon it, kicking off his sandals and folding a white socked foot under his leg. “Well, by our culture, the younger person has to do everything the elder one tells them…”

“No,” Max said gesturing with his cup. “I wouldn’t be into all of that sub-dom stuff. How do you put up with that? Stuck with a girl that doesn’t think for herself… at your beck and call…”

“Korean women are far from meek and submissive,” Jae said with a smile. “My mother is the most terrifying woman I know.” He sipped his tea, sighing as he stretched back, cat-like. “A person can show respect while still being a free-thinking individual.”

“So what’s the deal?” Max asked. “The real deal, not the story you tell your mummy.”

“The deal behind what?” Jae asked, his glasses flashing as he tilted his head back a fraction.

“You and marriage-E,” Max teased, his voice dipping a little.

“I barely know you,” Jae said. “And personal questions aren’t my thing.” He nodded to the Peugeot 206, “How’s it looking?”

“Not too bad,” said Max as he stood and put his teacup aside. “But not too good, either.”

“The engine block itself is probably fine,” said Max. “The radiator, the intercooler, and the air filter are done though. You’re gonna have to replace them completely. The front suspension and the brakes, particularly at the side where the flat was, were heavily damaged and we’ll probably have to rip that out and get a new set. The front axle will need some realignment.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard. I got a few of those parts lying around somewhere. Gonna have to order out them brakes, though.” Jae stood up and joined Max at the car.

“What about the body work?”

“I’ll manage that.”

Jae moved around to the passenger side of the car. The front fender and the door looked crushed but nothing that he couldn’t fix. It will take him the better part of the day though and that didn’t even include repainting.

“Don’t worry,” said Max. “I’ll stick around to help out.”

“Don’t you have other things to do?”

“I…honestly don’t. I usually spend my weekends tuning my car. But I finished working on it yesterday and now I don’t have anything to do on it until the boost gauges I ordered arrives.”

“Well I don’t feel real comfortable with you giving me all this help for free, you know? I’m not a charity case.”

“Well you could pay me. I could use another part-time job aside from my pizza gig.”

Jae chuckled. Max continued to stare at Jae with a determined look on his face. There was something about that look that caused Jae to stop chuckling.

“You’re serious?”

“What? You think my life-long ambition is to deliver pizzas for a Columbian guy with a Napoleon-complex? I’m not just good at the mechanical stuff, you know. You’ve seen what I can do behind the wheel. Let me race for you. Plus I’m sure you can use an extra pair of hands around here.”

That was something that made Jae curious about Max. In all his years as an underground race organizer he had never heard of anyone throw down a purse as high as Max did the night before. Usually for amateur events the purse for a race would be about thirty to forty grand. A hundred to two hundred grand were usually thrown down for the more advanced guys. Upwards of two hundred thousand Roubles would be put down by the high rollers.

Double or nothing rematches were rare, let alone triple or nothing. The bank Max won that night, A four hundred and thirty two thousand roubles in cash, was unheard of, at least around Moscow. There was also something about the way the kid challenged the guy, as if drawing him into that race. It was stuff like this that made Jae want to know more about Max but he didn’t think this kid would open up to him just yet.

“You mean like the money you won last night?” asked Jae.

“Well, I’ll probably won’t be racing the stakes that high next time. Besides that was just to work for my advantage.”

“How’s that?”

“People probably think I’m a chump right now and I was only lucky during that last race. Give them a modest bank to bet on and they’ll challenge me on the drop of a hat.”

Jae thought about this and realized he was right.

“Just give me enough chances to prove myself a bit more,” continued Max.

“I don’t think Boomer will be really cool with this. I mean he’s supposed to be my racer.”

“The kid definitely has talent but he’s still green. I can teach him stuff that’ll have him eating the competition.”

“I’ll bet. It’s a tempting offer and all…”

“Man, quit playing like you’re gonna pass this up. I know that you’re a man about your money. You know that with me and Boomer racing for you we’ll rake in more cash than you’ll know what to do with.”

Both Jae and Max were quiet for a few moments but both men were smirking with mutual understanding. Max knew already that things were finally going his way after all this time.

“Alright,” said Jae. “We’ll see what you can do. Oh,” Jae paused, “don’t think this is going to be that easy bud, you are going to have prove you can race anything…”

Max shifted his head to look at Jae, “what, you’re going to get me racing your grandma’s Winnebago?”

“Nope,” Jae stated pulling a tarp up in his hand and sweeping it off of a ragged looking scooter.

“Your kidding,” Max rolled his eyes, looking pained. “I’m not driving that…”

“You don’t have too,” Jae replied patting the heavily modified Honda XRM. “I’m racing this… you’re going to have to find your own ride…”

“Where am I going to get my hands on a…” Max eyed Jae as the other man picked up a Pizza menu. “Oh hell no…”

“Oh hell yes,” Jae purred, a smug smile spreading on his lips.

“Crap,” Max sighed.

* * *

Out on the streets of North Centrum.

The Centrum near to Red Square was awash in sounds, the heat of the day was only just beginning as the sun climbed its way towards midday. But as usual the hustle and bustle of Tverskaya Utilisa was beginning to reach a fever pitch. Hawkers preying upon unsuspecting ‘budget tourists’ who were foolish enough to fall for their myriad of schemes and scams.

The Daelim rocketed through traffic, weaving too and fro in an almost hap-hazard fashion, as he tried to keep up with the XRM ahead of him. It was difficult, as he noticed that the pitch of Jae’s scooter was deeper, like that of a more powerful motorcycle, a TMX he guessed. He remembered that he had heard that many mopeds were stripped down and fitted with bigger engines. Jae was out to teach him a lesson, and Max rolled his shoulders, settling in to receive a sound thrashing.

Teverskaya was a broad boulevard with a number of stylish looking outlet stores along its length mixed in with high class jewellery shops and low-class electronics. Amongst the great Stalinist Façades large signs written in traditional Russian boasted of deals, and tried to entice people in to spend their money. Max was trying his best to remain focused, cursing again the fact that Jae had chosen the motorscooters as the medium by which he was supposed to prove himself.

He was on the verge of giving up, when he saw Jae pull to a stop ahead. The other man pulled his goggles up, setting them on the brown leather helmet he wore, flashing a toothy grin as he watched Max pull up.

“Looser,” he said as he adjusted the shemagh he wore around his neck like a scarf.

“I warned you I don’t like bikes,” Max said as he flipped out the kick stand and got off the moped.

“That was fun,” Jae conceded as he relaxed back on the saddle of the XRM. “Feels good to be out on something other than a car.”

“Your pocket-rocket you mean,” Max snipped testily, fishing through his pockets for some cash as he walked over to a coffee shop they’d pulled up outside of. “Coffee?”

“Tea, please,” Jae stated, still smiling. “I don’t like coffee,” he watched as Max went up to the small kiosk window and collected a couple of paper cups. Accepting the one that was thrust out to him when Max returned.

“So now that I officially suck ass,” Max heaved a long sigh as he turned his red ball cap backwards on his head and leaned against a newspaper box.

“You don’t suck ass, brah,” Jae reassured. “How come, someone as cocksure as you are in a car has so many confidence issues outside of one?”

Max fished through his pockets looking for a cigarette.

“You can’t smoke here,” Jae observed.

Max froze the cigarette halfway to his mouth. “You’re kidding me.”

“Smoking ban,” Jae answered, tipping his cup up respectfully towards a pair of Militsiya officers who seemed to be enthusiastically waiting for Max to light the offending cigarette so they could swoop in collect a nice fat bribe.

There had been studies, and they were pretty conclusive about the opinion of the militsiya. The fear they engendered was mainly because the militiamen are thought to often take illegal actions against innocent people. A poll he’d read somewhere put the figure at about 56% of the Muscovite population fearing the militsiya more than organized crime.

Max bit off a snarky comment, as he carefully put the cigarette away, “Mrs. Cooper smokes where she pleases.” He remarked sullenly.

“Yeah, but have you ever tried to say no to Mrs. Cooper?” Jae grinned brightly, still wearing his helmet as he pulled a cell out of his pocket to check the time, satisfied that they were in no rush he popped back into his beige denim coat.

“So,” Max asked with a nod, “what’s the deal with Mrs. Cooper? Where’s Mister Cooper?”

Jae’s eyebrow raised a notch, “we don’t talk about Coop.”

“Oh?” Max asked curling his hands around his coffee cup, stepping out of the way of a group of Muscovites that were rushing past. “You know, all this cryptic voodoo about not sharing isn’t exactly friendly.”

“People have pasts,” Jae said, his face sliding a little as he looked distant. “Like you.”

“Me and my past,” Max sucked on his teeth, looking into his coffee. “Not something I like to get into.”

“Hypocrite.”

Max shook his head, “quid-pro-quo?” he offered.

Jae’s smile flashed on his face again, “oh? This could get very dangerous.”

“Danger Max…”

“Mouse,” Jae corrected. “Danger Mouse and Penfold… we’d have to paint that pretty XKR of yours yellow and plop Boomer down as your plucky side-kick.”

“Leave my car out of this twisted sexual fantasy of yours,” Max laughed.

“Right,” Jae leaned across the handlebars of the XRM. “I take it you don’t want to do this in the middle of Tverskaya. ‘cause I am gonna get down and personal as a warning.”

“My place is in the South East,” Max pointed across the Kremlin.

“Oh,” Jae observed, clicking his tongue in distaste. “Thats is a terrible neighbourhood, brah.”