29-Julian
Rivers Motorsports Headquarters, North Carolina
“The camera shows there is room.” I pause the video. “Look at the track. That lane was open.”
This is the second week with Sam, our new rookie. Her short hair and freckles aren’t remarkable, but she possesses a chin as stubborn as the rest of her personality.
When Boone first asked me to work with her, I assumed it was payback for Lily rather than the truth: he ran out of patience.
“There wasn’t,” she insists. “Not without hitting his back right side.”
Fear of making a mistake means you end up doing nothing at all.
“Let’s keep going.”
Two more rounds of her insisting there wasn’t a move to make, Boone interrupts us. “You got a minute?”
Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a thousand fucking minutes. Even Boone is better than this.
“How’s it going with her?” he asks.
“It’s not.”
He hums. “She was a constant winner in Xfinity last year. I expected better.”
“There’s a lot of season left; I’ll keep working with her.”
We end up in his office, where I notice Maddie is nowhere to be found and Sarah is behind his desk. She also looks like a cat about to kill her newest play toy.
“What’s wrong?”
“This is so exciting,” she says. “Look. You two are news.”
She hands over her phone for me to read. “It’s a gossip piece on one of the sports sites. Three whole paragraphs. So what?”
“I knew she was perfect for you. I told you, didn’t I?” Sarah says.
It didn’t take Sarah’s prognostications for me to know how well Lily and I fit together. “If you want.”
Boone pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, your personal life isn’t my business, but this is different. You’ve been floating from one random to another since your first week here. That’s your thing, and I didn’t judge.”
He judged the fuck out of me. “It still isn’t.”
Boone nods, but it’s not from agreement. “You’re dating Lily Webb, Pete’s daughter.”
Pete backed off once I handed my career over to him. “Is he giving you grief?” He shouldn’t be. I’m honoring my terms precisely as promised.
“Well, no, he hasn’t. Here’s the thing. If you fall back on old habits, it will be everywhere. Pete will be humiliated. Everyone in our sport will know because it will be front-page gossip. Your standings won’t matter, and your old scandal will be discussed all over again. We will have a massive PR problem. You get that?”
“Yes, I’m aware because you warn me every day.” Boone is one of many who thinks the worst of me. Hell, my entire family was convinced I’d cheat in the middle of the playoffs. It wasn’t even a request; my dad sincerely believed I’d follow his orders without question. “My feelings are sincere.”
I didn’t cheat, and all it cost me was my family and my reputation. There’s a nasty lesson in there about never doing the right thing.
“See, I told you he loved her,” Sarah says. She prides herself on always being correct, especially when it means butting into other’s private lives. “He’s in love.”
“Stop,” Boone and I say, speaking over each other.
“You both know I won’t. Also, as I said, you won’t have a problem, big brother. You’ll worry because you enjoy the misery, but he’s completely gone. There isn’t going to be a scandal.”
“I don’t enjoy misery,” Boone says.
He kind of does.
“There won’t be a scandal,” I promise. “If we end, it’s because she dumped me, not the other way around.”
His head bobs. “If it matters, I hope she doesn’t. You’ve been an asset this season.”
“Great. If we’re done here, I’ve got a rookie who needs me.”
∞∞∞
Darlington Raceway
“Walk up the embankment there.”
We pretend to climb the turn so the social media team could take more pictures.
“Okay, that will do it. Thanks, guys.”
We resume our walk, checking for any changes from last year. The up-close visual helps reset our minds on the next race, which I appreciate.
“Handling on these turns will be difficult,” Boone says.
“It’s always difficult,” I say. One is narrow and tough as shit, while the other one is wide and annoying as shit. The engineers always build our cars to handle well on one or the other, with neither turn coming out perfect. I’ll find out what to expect during practice tomorrow.
“You expect to win this weekend?” Jake asks, coming up beside me. He’s been reticent during the walk so far, to the point I suspect Sarah told him about our conversation in Boone’s office the other day. Either that, or he’s tired.
“It’s a good car, and my results in the sim were decent. I hope for a decent showing.”
“You’re second in points right now,” he points out. “It seems like you’d have a strategy to keep yourself there.”
“Running ten points behind.” A decent showing on Sunday could change that, or I could wreck out and drop several spots. “It’s Darlington. Who in the hell knows?”
“How’s Matteo doing?”
The change in topic surprises me. Jake helped push Boone to take Matteo on as a full-time truck driver, which I appreciate, and he’s barely mentioned him since. “Are you planning an expansion so soon?”
Jake and Sarah launched their own company, conveniently located next door to our headquarters, last season. Jake is the only full-time driver, but the two of them regularly talk up plans. Personally, it all sounds like a giant pain in the ass.
“Not yet. We aren’t there, operations-wise, at this point. My big push is to win this season. That’s more easily achieved than a championship,” Jake says.
He’s wearing faded blue board shorts and a darker blue shirt. His relaxed body doesn’t show it, but that statement gives me pause. A win comes with a nice purse attached. “You still want to expand.”
“What are we doing here if not dreaming big?”
“Racing cars is dreaming big.” It’s almost enough for me.
“You sound like my wife,” he says.
A wave of loneliness hits. Lily won’t be here this weekend due to her semester’s final exams. Matteo had already asked if I wanted to go out after his race later, and I refused. A decent dinner and early bedtime are better preparation, anyway.
∞∞∞
The trailer is dark and empty.
I flip on a light, change clothes, and pull out the prepared meal waiting for me. I’ll need to thank the hauler guys in the morning because otherwise, dinner would be a cold sandwich and chips.
The oppressive silence bugs me, so I flip on the television and find a local news station. Wanting more mindless entertainment, I grab my phone next.
The missed call on the screen isn’t a surprise. My schedule can lead to missed calls and long delays in returning text messages. Everyone in my life is used to it, including Lily. The part that shocks me is the person who called.
Dad.
There’s no voicemail either, which means it could be a butt dial, or he changed his mind. It’s also possible there’s terrible news; horrible enough, he decided to call and tell me directly.
I’m a giant fucking idiot.
At least the mailbox isn’t full this time. “Hi, Dad. It’s me. Your son. It’s been a while. Have you followed me this season? I’m at the top of the leaderboard. Also, I have a girlfriend now, and she’s incredible. Her name is Lily. You’d like her.” That isn’t true. Dad would dislike her as much as he does everyone else. “Anyway, sorry I missed your call. I hope everything is okay. I miss you guys, all of you. Call me back.”
He won’t. That was a butt dial, and my call was a waste of breath, precisely the same as every single one before it.
The news switches to a commercial for cleaning products.
I press mute and dial a different number.
She picks up on the first ring. “How did you know I was thinking of you?”
“Because I spent the day thinking of you.”
∞∞∞
North Wilkesboro Speedway
“Handling is still off.”
“No improvement?”
“Some, not enough. The response is slow. It feels like I’m smearing across the tracks at every turn,” I say.
My spotter kicks in. “You’re about to get lapped. Again.”
“Then enjoy the show,” I huff out. “Because it’ll happen again. How’s my performance?”
“Your lap times improved.” Steve, my pit chief, followed me to RMS. He’s all business, which I appreciate. “Not by enough.”
“Lapped again,” my spotter unhelpfully adds.
“You don’t need to keep that up,” I say.
Pete Webb chimes in. “What’s your status?”
“Mostly grateful this isn’t a points race. There isn’t much I can do out here. The turns are loose, and I’m not getting speed.”
We’re at a short track, which means cars run slower, but mine is barely faster than a bicycle. The one positive is that the race is not for points, so my standing won’t change. It’s an all-star race, done more for PR and buzz than anything.
“Where is Boone?” I ask. It probably doesn’t matter, but if there’s an opportunity to give a boost, I’ll take it. “Can you give me some info on him?”
Pete says, “Loose tire.” The hell? We’ve been driving great cars the entire season, and now this short track trashes them both.
“24 is two laps ahead.” My spotter pauses and then starts up again. “Passing on your left.”
“Is he alone?”
“No. Jake’s squeezing between the 9 and 19.”
“What’s his position?”
“Hold on. Hold on.” I dutifully hold. “He’s in front of the 9, passing on the bottom.”
It’s impressive for this track. There have been remarkably few trading spaces in this race so far.
“We’re down to the final few laps here, but does anyone else believe they added an extra hundred to the total lap count at some point?” I ask.
“The race that won’t end,” Steve says.
My spotter says, “Two laps. The 24 pulling up on your right.”
I slide down the track to give him some room. If Jake Knowles can snag a win, who am I to stop him? “That’s the 19 on his right,” I say. “They still running together?”
“Final lap,” he says.
“Where’s Jake?” I ask.
“You’re right. Coming. Coming.”
He pops into my rearview with the 19 by his side. I can’t pass, and I’m at the rear of the pack.
“Bring it home, Jake.” I push the throttle, bump him forward, and spin into the grass. “Well, that’s it then. Steve, thank the 33 team for me, will you?”
That was a snoozer of a race.
I undo my harness and slid through the window.
∞∞∞
It doesn’t take long for this week’s car to get loaded back into the hauler.
“We’ll take it apart in the garage tomorrow,” Pete says to Boone and me. The three of us watched it, and Boone’s car, get loaded into their respective trucks, largely in silence. “Both of them.
“If there’s something wrong, it’s better to know before Charlotte,” Boone adds.
Charlotte means new cars and fresh wraps for both of us, but surprise issues need to be addressed first.
“I’ll be in early while they do.” They’re nothing else for me to add. Engineering can look at their data; all I can do is provide my perspective.
The hauler’s door is closed and secured.
The stands are empty, and the lot isn’t far behind as trucks clear out to make their way home.
The best part of this race is its location because it means sleeping in my own bed tonight.
“You did good tonight,” Boone says quietly. “That was a good push there at the end.”
A compliment? “Timing and track position were in my favor.”
“We manufacture for him,” Boone says. I get it; Jake’s win reflects well on us, even if it’s his team.
Jake’s win doesn’t help his total points, but it gives him a nice purse. If he wants to bootstrap himself into team ownership, I’ll cheer him from the sidelines and offer a win when there is no cost to me. They can make better use of that money than RMS ; his sponsors will appreciate the win, and he needs to keep them happy.
I say goodbye and go in search of Lily. She’s coming home with me tonight.