(So here is the next chapter. For all of you who have been reading I am glad you have enjoyed the stories. If you read them, I would appreciate if you could also vote. Not that I am interested in winning any of the contests that literotica hosts, what I am interested in is your feedback. Feel free to email me any of your comments or complaints or suggestions for the following chapters. They are not written yet, so let me know how you would like to see the story go. For now enjoy the next chapter, things are about to spin out of control – the cowboy)
Ryley awoke to the sound of a roaring exhaust zipping down the street. Immediately he knew it was the Camaro and that meant Britney was going out somewhere. Throwing back the covers, Ryley climbed out of bed and stretched his six-foot plus, muscular frame. Crossing the carpeted floor, he stepped into the bathroom and started the shower. Once the water was warm, he bathed quickly, dried off and then got dressed.
He took the stairs to the first floor and walked across the hall into the kitchen. Searching through the cabinets, he found a box of Frosted Flakes. Grabbing them, a gallon of milk and silverware he sat down at the table and poured himself a bowl of cereal. As he was pouring milk over the flakes, the phone began to ring.
Ignoring it, he began to mix his cereal with his spoon. He heard the machine pick up and Britney's voice flowing like honey asking the caller to leave a message. Ryley smiled as he began to chew his first spoonful. He was surprised that Britney had left without saying anything to him and he was wondering when she would return. He smirked to himself as he recalled the sound of the Camaro roaring down the street. By the sound of the exhaust, it sounded like Britney had gotten a hang of the car quickly and she had been working the gears like an expert.
As he had this thought he heard the machine begin to record the caller's message. At first, he didn't think anything of it. However, as he listened he realized who it was right as the caller hung up. Pushing back his chair, Ryley stood up and walked across the room to the answering machine. He hit the play button and waited for the tape to rewind, when it did, the speaker clicked on and the tape began to play.
"Britney, its Kyle," said the tape, and Ryley immediately recognized the cultured, slightly sleazy voice of Britney's agent. " Listen I just wanted to try and catch you before you left, I'm gonna be a little late for our meeting. I'm glad you reconsidered on my offer."
Ryley began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach as he listened further.
"Pop Records is willing to give you whatever you want. And remember the only stipulation is that the cowboy has to go. We'll make up some story about him using you and leaving you like we said and the fans will sympathize and sales will skyrocket."
Just like it had in the old days, Ryley could feel his temper flaring. He clenched his hands into fists and felt his knuckles cracking. His eyes blazed with anger as he heard Kyle laugh sarcastically.
"And if you need any help kicking lover boy to the curb, just let me know."
Ryley pressed stop on the answering machine. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. Britney was leaving him. However, she wasn't just leaving, she going to use him to sell records. Reaching down he picked up the phone and dialed information.
"Nobody sells me out," Ryley growled as he waited for the operator.
Several Hours Later
TJ was following Ryley through the performance shop, trying to keep up. His friend was moving into the storage section of the shop with a purpose that TJ hadn't seen since Ryley was heading to his car at the beginning of a race. Something was wrong. That much wasn't hard to figure out. TJ also knew that the only thing that could get Ryley fired up like this was a girl.
"Ryley, slow down, man," TJ called as they passed rows of cars that filled the warehouse behind the shop.
But Ryley paid no attention. They skirted the fender of a 1967 Shelby GT500 and moved deeper into the warehouse. Ryley's long black coat billowed behind him and brushed against the cars they passed, wiping off streaks of dust from various paint jobs. They finally came to a stop in front of one covered car, a car that appeared no different from the others under its anonymous cover.
TJ knew, however, that the car held a special meaning in Ryley's life. In fact, the car had been Ryley's entire life at one point in time. However, that had ended years ago when that kid had been killed, and Ryley was black-flagged, banning him from the tracks for life.
TJ knew that the dust would shake off when Ryley removed the cover. He also knew that Ryley would also be wiping the dust off his past and would have to face the demons that lurked beneath it. TJ could see his friend shaking, slightly, even though the warehouse was nearly completely dark.
Gently, Ryley reached out and seized the edge of the cover in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, then drew the cover off the car. TJ watched in awe as the flawless lines of the car came into view for the first time in years. He hadn't seen the car since the day when Ryley had asked him to store the car. TJ had parked the beast, covered it and never looked back. Now he was as awe struck as he had been the first time Ryley had shown him the car.
It was a 1970 ½ Camaro SS, with a black, mile deep paint job, metallic silver racing stripes and a flawless cowl induction hood. The car had a low, wide stance, huge polished, five spoke wheels and monster brakes. Ryley had built the car along the Pro-touring philosophy: build a car that was fast, handled like a dream, stopped on a dime and had all the plush power amenities that a brand new car had. Ryley had succeeded.
TJ had seen the car run on road courses, drag strips and any motor sport competition Ryley could get the car entered in. The beast had performed flawlessly, beating brand new corvettes on the road track and spanking most of the competition at the drag strip. However, the car could also be driven, anywhere the roads went, in absolute comfort. Overall, the car was as intimidating as Ryley was himself.
"Ryley, think about this," TJ said as Ryley opened the driver's door and popped the hood.
"I have," he replied as he lifted the hood and propped it open.
TJ looked in at the twin turbo LT4 that pumped out over seven hundred horsepower. The components were just as shiny and polished as they had been the day Ryley handed TJ the keys. The keys now hung from TJ's hand as he watched Ryley pull the dipstick and check the oil.
"Come on, Ryley, I know she's Britney Spears but this isn't worth it."
Ryley turned to him. " This has nothing to do with her being Britney Spears," he said softly, then looked away for a moment. " And it has everything to do with it. Do you understand?"
TJ nodded. Ryley held out his hand and TJ hesitated then handed his friend the keys. Ryley walked over to the car and climbed into the driver's seat. TJ walked over to the wall opposite the Camaro and began pulling the chain that opened the garage door. Over the sound of the opening door, TJ heard the sound of the fuel pump in the Camaro kick on.
After another second, the starter spun and the Camaro roared to life. The warehouse echoed with the bone chilling sound of the two turbo's whistling idly, and that of the motor growling contentedly for the first time in seven years. TJ turned and saw Ryley sitting in the driver's seat, his eyes surveying the bank of gauges that monitored the car's vital functions.
When the door was open all the way, TJ secured it then walked over and leaned in the driver's side window. His eyes swept over the grey leather interior, the gauges, the chrome shifter and flawless details before settling on his friend. Ryley's hands remained at his sides and his eyes were staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.
"You gonna be all right, buddy?" TJ asked.
Ryley blinked several times then nodded and held out his hand. TJ grasped it tightly.
"Listen, Ryley, you take care of whatever you have to. When you're done you know you got a place right back here with the boys and me. And if you decide not to come back than just let us know everything's cool."
"Thanks, TJ," Ryley replied as he pulled a set of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on.
