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It started with a simple joke.
Lightning didn’t mean much by it— his ego was inflated, his pride was untouched, and his confidence was at an all time high. He was riding the tough road alone: just him, his agent, and Mack.
He didn’t have people close to him to keep a reputation for. He could cater to the general public with no consequences to those in his inner circle, as his inner circle was solely business oriented.
Harv, actually, was the one who brought it up. Going on and on about magazine shoots and capitalizing on his rising fame. Taking sponsorship deals and photoshop opportunities up to wazoo.
Mack flinched the moment he heard it, while Lightning tossed his head back and laughed, jokingly saying, “If you can set it up, I’ll do it.”
Famous last words.
That had been a few months ago. Lightning had mostly forgotten about it since then. He had plenty more stuff to worry about than Cargirl.
Besides, it was a flitty fantasy— not set in stone, and something that flew by in passing.
That’s… what it was supposed to be, until Harv leaked something to a member of the local news station in order to rile up fans and garner support. To see what the fanbase wanted. “To test the waters,” Harv insisted.
One, tiny rumor was all it took for the headline to make it big— a recurring question whenever Lightning stepped foot onto the track. “Is it true you’re going to pose for Cargirl?”
Each time, he winked, and moved on. Because honestly; he didn’t even know if he was going to be on the cover of Cargirl, it was a tall order reserved for attractive, successful men who looked like chiseled models with perfect bodies and stainless teeth, and a career to back up their prowess. Not some guy fresh off the asphalt with some oil and grease stained under his nails riding on the unprecedented high from his rookie season.
Just before the final Piston Cup circuit, Harv informed him the appointment had been made— a week after the race, he’d go shoot some pictures for the magazine. Probably some shirtless scenes, maybe some unsavory poses and seductive smiles. Something he’d perfected over his short career from catering to his fangirls.
At the time, he was pleased— it was big. Not only was he on the nation’s radar for the next up-and-coming champion racer, but he could be recognized as a model, too. It’s never something that occurred to him.
Cargirl was a top-selling magazine that consisted of scantily clad men accompanied by stories and interviews of said men. It was a common household item— usually stored in a bedside drawer or out of reach of children, but still looked upon by women worldwide.
Initially, it was founded as a way to bring the spotlight onto men— women were sexualized frequently, but the magazine switched the narrative and therefore empowered both parties in their respective manner. Lightning didn’t look into it that much. Besides, it was just one issue.
He wouldn’t have had any friends or family who would look upon the magazine in scorn. Of course, he wasn’t onboard for being entirely nude for the duration of the shoot, but he would still be showing some skin and an unseen side of himself on the laminated pages. Probably not something he’d show his family, but fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about that.
That would have been the case if not for the little town called Radiator Springs.
The photo shoot slipped his mind— he did phone calls, signed sponsorship deals, and set up his headquarters in the Arizona town for the whole week. Lightning got close with Doc, closer with Sally, and fell in love with the dusty town and its residents.
His life in the fast lane as a celebrity was taxing, and it was just another thing he failed to keep track of.
So when Harv dutifully reminded him of his trip to LA, Lightning stood rigid with fear, one coherent thought running through his mind: oh, shit.
“Uh, about that, Harv,” Lightning starts, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Is it too late to back out? Y’know, didn’t have much to lose before this, and don’t get me wrong! Empowering sexual prowess— good for them! I support it! But I don’t think that’s something I should do now, y’know?”
Harv takes a moment to reply. “…What?”
“I’m just saying I might have fallen off the playboy image as of late. I’m not really America’s most eligible bachelor anymore…”
“Nonsense,” Harv dismisses. “It’s a magazine. Plenty of family men appear on the cover. And c’mon, baby! It’ll only help your image!”
Lightning had to admit— he still wanted to do the shoot for the sake of having it under his belt. But he wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing his partially-clothed body in magazines held by his friends. It was far easier just to put that label on his name… not his entire team.
He could almost picture Sarge’s look of distaste, muttering something about kids these days got no respect for themselves.
“I highly doubt anyone in Revolution Splints has a Cargirl membership. I don’t think they deliver there.”
“Harv!” Lightning protests. “I’ll do it. But nothing too dirty, okay? Like, we’re talking shirts off only.”
“Well duh,” Harv sounds almost offended at the mere suggestion. “Look, kid, it might be Cargirl, but you’re a racecar driver. They’re not lookin’ for America’s next top model. They just want a couple sexy pictures—“
“Ew!” Lightning winces. “Don’t say it like that, ugh. Stop, I’ll go. But if I see any of my crew with a magazine…”
“You won’t,” Harv assures him, grin apparent over the phone. “You’re a star, baby. And a star’s gotta shine.”
—
“Leaving so soon?”
Lightning glances up at Sally’s taunt, her figure looming behind him with her arms crossed. He shoots upwards, grinning sheepishly in return.
He was picking up the last of his things that were spread out on the bed at the Cozy Cone, folding his fresh laundry for the drive ahead. After a well-needed few days of rest, he was prepared to tackle the following week— photoshoot included.
“Well, I’ve got some interviews, and photoshoots,” he scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sort of famous, if you didn’t know…”
“Who’d you say you were?”
“The one and only Lightning McQueen.”
“Hm, Never heard of you,” Sally returns humorously. “How long are you gone?”
He shrugs. “A week?”
“Not long enough,” she mumbles. “Well, with Doc and Sheriff here, I guess I could cut out a bit of my schedule for you— for supervision, of course.”
Lightning pauses. “What?”
She scoffs. “I want to come with you, idiot.”
He panics a little. “Well, I don’t know, it’s a lot of business talk—“
“Stickers, I was a lawyer, you know,” she replies. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Uh, the commercials…! They get really repetitive and boring to film, and you’d either have to watch or find something in town to do and that’s asking a lot of you so I’d hate to be a bother, y’know—”
She continues to look amused as his rambling— perhaps even a little fond.
Lightning gestures hopelessly. “I just don’t think you want to go.”
A funny expression drifts across her face. “Oh, I see what’s going on now. You’ve got a harem waiting for you in California?”
He shakes his head quickly. “What? No! I don’t— it’s just—“
“Relax, Stickers. I was kidding.” She raises an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned about a harem…?”
Lightning doesn’t want the small town girl he’d finally gotten along with— someone who shared his humor, someone thoughtful and selfless, someone he was growing to enjoy their company— to see him posing for a nudist magazine. Sure, any of his other girlfriends or flings would have been impressed, but Sally wasn’t like that. Her humble and honest lifestyle would be uprooted by his unruly one.
Which… probably stands to reason as to why he should tell her, but he also figures the magazine won’t be that big of a deal.
Besides, he intends to amend his ways soon. Moving on from his life as his reckless self, and instead, following closer in Doc’s footsteps. He didn’t need a raunchy photoshoot to stay relevant— for one, he was pretty much the talk of the nation, and second, he could have cared less about the fame now; he had Doc, and people who’d always be his biggest supporters.
“No, ‘course not. But I’d hate for you to miss the town while we’re gone.”
Sally laughs. “I’ve been here for years. I could stand a vacation.”
He sighs a little, and resolves himself to having to put his foot down. He’s not proud of it, but it’s what needed to be done. “It’s a bit of a business-only trip, okay? Harv already planned everything for Mack and I, and I don’t want you to be left out in the cold if something goes wrong.”
She looks disappointed at that, but finally, she drops the issue. “Okay, fine. Need to get away from me that bad,” she teases. “What are you even doing, anyways?”
“I have an interview with the racing network,” he responds, truthfully. “And a commercial with Rust-eze.” A lie.
Sally nods. “Well, have fun. Text me.”
She starts to leave, hesitating for a moment, tiptoeing that delicate balance they were in— mutually interested, but wedged apart by their drastic careers and lives— but ultimately opts to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Lightning turns red like an idiot, smiling goofily at her retreating figure. I’ll tell her eventually… when the magazine is off the shelves and in the past.
Maybe then they’ll just share a laugh over it— nothing more.
—
The magazine didn’t receive much publicity, mostly from Lightning’s urging. That was typical for Cargirl— each issue was only advertised to subscribers and fans of the magazine rather than the general public. It was Harv who was pushing for posting it on social media, but Lightning ultimately turned him down.
He returned back to Radiator Springs, the photoshoot in the past, and the absolute atrocious pictures that had become of it— he shivers just thinking about the terrible seductive poses he had to pull off— and resigns himself to never participate in Cargirl again.
And that was that. He didn’t hear another word about it.
A few months had come and gone since then. Months full of training, goofing off, and falling in love— the best months of his life.
Returning to the track, however, was equally as welcome. The crowds cheered his name and counted on his wins. He was loved and cherished by the racing community, but even more so by his found family.
He’d made new friends on and off the track, the most notable of them being Bobby and Cal. They were the racers for Octane Gain and Dinoco respectively, about his age and just as reckless and immature at times. They spent their pre-games throwing down Uno cards and gossiping about the other racers— “I heard he uses five-in-one shampoo!”
“Really? No way! Didn’t he use windshield-wiper-fluid as deodorant?”
“You’re joking…”
“I wish I was!”
“That’s why they call it Smell Swell… since they clearly don’t.”
It was all lighthearted fun.
Until… today.
They were roughly eight races into the season. Cal had done nine, since he had to do his qualifiers for being a rookie, but the other two had been entered automatically into the circuit due to their high-finishes last year.
Sitting around a shitty-plastic table, Lightning set down his phone when he noticed a figure crossing the pits with a dedicated purpose. A closer look revealed it was Bobby— dressed in purple, and beelining towards the table.
Lightning should have known from the near-furious expression on Bobby’s face that he wasn’t going to like anything that was about to happen.
The Octane Gain racer stormed across the space between them, his arms firmly at his side and a paper clenched in his hand. It was crinkled and rolled up so Lightning couldn’t see the contents, but the stern glare Bobby was giving him made him have a few guesses.
Cal was at Lightning's side, whistling lowly at Bobby’s determined gait. “What’s his deal?”
“We’re about to find out,” Lightning mutters.
“Sure hope it’s not about that story we told the press,” Cal muses. “It’s not like we lied or nothing.”
Lightning was almost positive that was it— both he and Cal avidly retold the story of how Bobby had gotten scared by a rat in his trailer, and in his fear, pissed his pants. Lightning nearly cracked a grin picturing the poor guy’s walk of shame to fetch new clothes and take a shower— but thought better of it with the rapidly approaching enigma.
Cal crosses his arms, leaning back. There’s a wisp of a grin on his face. “This’ll be good.”
Bobby finally arrives at their table, slamming down the contents of his hand on the surface. He smooths it out in one fluid motion. “What the hell is this?”
Both Lightning and Cal lean forward. It was worse than Lightning imagined.
Lightning stares at the copy of the magazine under his nose. His jaw drops a little— he hadn’t seen the final version of his cover story, but there he was, in all his glory— shirtless, sweaty, and a gleam in heavily extenuated blue eyes. His racing jacket was draped across his shoulders, hanging limply off his form just enough that the number 95 was visible on the front. Blond hair was neatly swept across his forehead, putting together the last pieces of the photo. He had to admit— the picture was great, and it certainly sold the Cargirl agenda— but it wasn’t really him anymore.
Cal gasps, and starts hollering hysterically. “Ain’t no way! Lightning, is that Cargirl?”
Snapping his gaze upwards, he blinks rapidly, fumbling for a response. Maybe he could be entirely truthful, or maybe sugarcoat it with wow, that was ages ago! Or he could double-down…
Play dumb!
“Who’s that?” Lightning asks quickly. Okay, not that dumb, McQueen…
“Oh, you should know, tough guy!” Bobby points at him. “It’s got your dirty little name all over the cover!”
Lightning makes a show of leaning forward to squint at the text. “Oh, you’re right.”
Nice one. Real smooth. You almost had them convinced!
He groans internally.
“So,” Bobby finally slips into the chair across from him, arms crossed over his chest, “care to explain to me why this was on my sister’s desk?”
Despite it all, Lightning fails to hide his smirk. “It was?”
Cal is still gasping for air, wheezing like a banshee. “I can’t—! I can't, oh my gosh. Cargirl!!”
Lightning spares Cal a stern glare, and returns to Bobby’s equally malevolent look. “Look, man, I can't help that your sister has good taste.”
“She’s sixteen!” Bobby yells. “This is awful! My teenage sister is thirsting over my best friend! What have you done!?”
He laughs a little at Bobby’s distress. “Face it, Bobby. You’re looking at pure perfection.”
“You’re about to be looking at my fist,” Bobby retorts. “I can’t believe this.”
“Neither can Cal,” Lightning observes sarcastically. “Stay with us, buddy.”
Cal wipes tears from his eyes, chest heaving. “Sorry, it’s just—“ he snorts loudly again. “I can’t even say it with a straight face. Are you biting your lip?!”
Both Lightning and Bobby glance at the magazine cover, and come to the horrifying realization that Cal was right. Lightning winces, and Bobby bursts into laughter.
“Excuse me! It’s a good picture!” Lightning attends to defend. “C’mon, guys! That’s real quality!”
Bobby pauses between gasps to point a single finger at another feature of the photograph— the (admittedly) well-edited six-pack that Lightning would argue he did have, just not to that extent.
He sat in a racecar for the majority of his time: when was he going to find time to bench press weights? There was no shame in a little photo-shop game…
Cal stands up, still bawling with laughter, and starts to shake Bobby back and forth. Bobby accepts it, still snorting and in hysterics all the same. The three of them look like quite the group, and the theatrics have started to garner a small crowd glancing their way.
Lightning rolls his eyes, making a point to drop his volume a few notches. “Look, can you really blame a guy for being on Cargirl?”
“Yup,” Bobby pops the p, “I am blaming you for it.”
“Me too,” Cal says once his voice evens back out.
“Why didn’t I hear about this? This is gold!” Bobby starts to flip through the magazine, but Lightning rips it from his hands. He doesn’t want to know if he makes another cameo.
Lightning folds the pamphlet in half and tucks it under his arm. “Nunya business.”
“It is—” Bobby makes a grab for the magazine, but falls short, “—my business!”
After a tense moment of back-and-forth, they all come to the agreement that the magazine was better left untouched…
That was until Cal managed to weasel the book away from both of them.
Bobby, in on the play, flips Lightning off with a maniacal grin.
“Catch you later, carboy,” he taunts, then takes off after Cal in their haste to return to their trailers, likely to make plenty of blackmail to coerce Lightning with.
Still, it’s just a few of his friends who know… no one else.
Yet.
—
Lightning expects to arrive home to his quiet and meandering town far from the on-track drama (okay, it wasn’t his fault the circuit gained a new mini Chick Hicks, as if the former wasn’t enough. Seriously, they were going to butt heads at some point!) and his friend’s relentless teasing, but it appeared as if he was wrong.
He decides to stop by Sally’s before he crashes at Doc’s, a rather recent (yet permanent) update to his residency in the town. He only intends to stay long enough at Sally’s for a brief visit, maybe steal a kiss, and share a joke.
Using the house key she graciously gave him, he breezes into the foyer with a bright grin.
Immediately, something's off.
Sally sits in the living room, leaning against the arm of the couch with her knees bundled beneath her. She flips through a magazine idly, barely glancing up to acknowledge his presence.
Lightning feels a thread of despair, kicking off his shoes and joining her side. Another glance at the book confirms his suspicions— it was Cargirl.
“Whatcha reading?” Lightning asks with his best act of nonchalance. “Anything good?”
“Nah,” Sally closes the magazine, smirking up at Lightning. “Just some magazine with a mediocre guy on the cover.”
Lightning sits beside her, flipping the magazine in her hand, pointing to the cover. “Whaaaat? What don’t you like about that?”
He feels the unease drift away— it didn’t seem Sally was upset about any of it… really, she seemed to be laughing…
“For one, the blue eyes are too much,” she complains. “Don’t even get me started on the smile, it’s plain atrocious—”
She looks over at him the moment he attempts to recreate the seductive grin. She struggles to keep her composure, but cracks under the laughter.
Lightning chuckles along with her until she rolls the page into a cylinder and wacks him in the head. “What were you thinking? Is this what you went to LA for after you moved here?”
He weakly uses his arms to deflect her strikes, scrambling across the couch from her. “Okay, okay! That was that trip! But, hey, at the time, it was very lucrative.”
“And you didn’t tell me? You were embarrassed? I can’t believe this!”
“Well, it was a temperamental type of thing, I didn’t know how you’d react—” he attempts to defend, but forfeits the argument quickly.
Sally’s tearing up now in her laughter. “Cal told me about this, but damn, Stickers— I didn’t think it was this bad!”
“You’re not mad?” He inserts, quickly, for assurance.
She shakes her head. “Mad about what? How stupid you look? News flash, Lightning— you’re hot! No need to do all this to prove that!”
“I accept your compliment.”
Scoffing, she scoots back towards him. “Next time you want to pose for a nudist magazine—” she thrusts the book into his chest, and he fumbles to catch it, “—make it look good.”
“Duly noted,” he replies. “But there won’t be a next time.”
“Aww, little playboy finally settled down?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Sally fixes him with a oh, yeah? type of look, and cups his jaw to kiss him. The result of her actions— a flustered, breathless Lightning— answers her question. “Yeah.”
He sighs loudly. “What am I gonna do with you?”
Cracking a smile, she takes the magazine back. “I’m gonna frame this. What page do you want? I mean, the cover is golden, and sort of iconic, so—”
“I swear to god, Sal, if you frame that!”
Lightning reaches her fast enough to rip it from her hand.
What he’s not fast enough in doing, though, is canceling the Amazon order that arrives on her doorstep a week later…
Because soon enough, there’s a framed copy of the magazine on her nightstand.
And who is he to say no, when she wants an autograph on it?
—
The following week, Lightning hands Bobby an autographed copy too, saying, “For your sister.”
The look on his face was priceless.