Chapter Twenty-Six
Kace shoved his phone in his pocket. He wanted to call Tara, but she had walked out on him twice in two days. How much more rejection did he need to take? He was glad she had shared her past with him. In fact, it made him want to protect her from any more harm from that bastard and anyone else who even thought about hurting her. He had wanted to hold her all night and tell her if she wanted a big family, he would find a way to give her one, or he’d share his with her. But she didn’t understand his need to race. He had thought she did. That realization sliced him open like a knife through rubber.
“That phone call important?” Gus shoved his fists into his low back and stretched.
The long drive from Backwater in the Mustang would have stiffened up the older man’s muscles. His own neck and shoulders longed for Tara’s magical touch.
He needed to stop thinking about her. He had a job to do.
“Nothing that can’t wait.”
“Good. Today all your focus has to be on driving since you turned down the chance to invest in your team.”
“I said I was sorry about changing my plans.” He had told Gus about backing out of his offer before asking him to come today. The invite had smoothed over the anger and hurt. Gus had put his neck out for him, but ultimately, he understood.
Now he had to focus on driving, or he could end up vomiting in the pit lane and embarrassing himself. No one on this new team knew his concussion symptoms still existed. As long as he stayed focused on the drive, he’d be fine.
He opened the door to the garage that sat on a road with other garages, body shops, and hardware stores in a no-name town two hours from Backwater. The best part of this old and worn-out street painted in faded and peeling colors was its proximity to the speedway. The mile-long course was only a few minutes away.
Roy Burger owned this small space to take care of his race cars. He raced cars in different series. The one he would drive was Roy’s single car in the pro-series. Crashing was not an option for a team with only one car and one backup ride.
Burger Garage paled in size to the garages of the big teams. A small crew moved around a couple of cars, getting them ready for the race. Electric saws and hammers sang out as they met metal and rubber. This place would never win a beauty contest, but the smell of oil, gasoline, and grease was a special mix only the best garages had. The scent reminded him of his garage. It had taken years for that garage to have the right smell. He missed the fragrance as much as he missed owning that damn thing. If he could race full-time for Roy, he’d buy that garage back, or he’d build a bigger one. A better one.
“You smell that?” Gus slapped him on the shoulder and took a deep inhale.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Y’all made it.” Roy’s booming voice entered the garage before he did. “Welcome.” He raised his arms as he came toward them. His belly strained against the buttons of his plaid shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans. His brown loafers were shined to a gleam that matched the bald spot on his head.
“Hey, Roy. This is Gus McAlpine. My friend and mentor.”
“I’m no mentor. Sometimes I tell the boy how to take a turn or two.” Gus stuck out his hand.
“Come on now. Your reputation precedes you. You won the Zero Light race when no one thought you’d do it back in nineteen sixty-nine.” Roy shook with Gus.
“That’s right. Gus came from behind to steal the win. He doesn’t like to talk about it, do you?”
Gus narrowed his eyes, and his face turned a few shades of red. Gus would give him hell later, but he didn’t care. Gus had been a master racer.
“Follow me.” Roy led them to the other side of the garage. “You’re going to have a practice run this afternoon. The car has already been brought over. You’ll take her for a spin and get a feel for her and the track. Tell Jason whatever you need. He’s the crew chief, and he’ll meet you at the track. It’s only about ten minutes from here. We’ll take a ride in my car.”
Roy drove them over in a silver Lamborghini with wide wheels and plush leather seats. They pulled up to the track with white brick walls reaching for the sky. The fan area would be behind the tallest walls. Roy drove around to the other side where the garages and pit crews would work on race day. His heart floored it against his chest. Sweat broke out on his palms and the back of his neck. He yanked his hair off his face and wiped his hands on his legs. This was really happening. He was going to race again, and the pain in his head could stop a wild horse.
“Mighty fine track,” Gus said.
“It makes an impression, doesn’t it?” Roy parked near the building. “The course has a few dips, but if you can race this oval, you’ll do fine at the Southern November.” He pushed open the door and eased out.
He and Gus did the same. Gus fisted his hand in his low back again. Gus was getting up in years, and the wear and tear started to show. He hated the idea Gus wouldn’t always be there.
“You’ll meet the pit crew and get in the car to take it for a spin. You ready for that?”
“Yes, sir.” With each step toward the garage bays, his stomach folded in on itself. He didn’t understand what was happening to his body. He’d been waiting for this chance for months. His second home was a race car. Nerves never got the best of him.
A Ford Mustang, not much different from his own, sat in the last bay. The paint job was free of sponsor names, but it sported a dark blue that sparkled in the light. The inside would look nothing like a streetcar but would be fitted with the latest technologies for fast and safe driving.
“Kace, this is my head mechanic, Simon. Simon, meet our new driver.”
Simon wiped his hands on his dirty jeans and stuck one out to shake.
He gripped Simon’s hand and held his gaze because he wanted Simon to know he was there to work. “Kace Ryker. Nice to meet you.”
“Welcome to the team. Once you take her out for a ride, we’ll sit down with Jason, and you can tell me how she feels under you. The sooner I understand your language, the better I can make the ride for you in November.” Simon went back to work with a nod.
“Now, Kace, remember today is just about seeing how fast you can make the car go,” Roy said. “I know you’ve been off the track. No one’s expecting you to perform miracles out there. I want you to practice here for the next couple of weeks. Then I have a press conference scheduled to introduce you to the fans and the other teams. I want to play up your family angle. We’ll try to stay away from the accident, but you know those vultures will ask. Have something ready about your health that will shut them up fast. I want the news to be about our underdog team coming for the title.”
“I can handle that.”
“Great. You can suit up, and we’ll wait for you in the pit road. Gus, you want to follow me?”
“I’ll be right behind you, Roy. Need a few words with my boy here.” Gus waited until Roy was out of earshot and turned to him. “You feeling okay for this?”
“I’m great. I can do it.” The pain continued to build behind his eyes, though. His nerves had sneaked in when he hadn’t expected them and brought on a headache.
“Did you have enough to drink? You’re going to sweat. I don’t want you thinking you’ll pass out.”
“Gus, I’m okay. This isn’t a race. I won’t be in the car for hours. I’m going to drive around the track a few times. That’s it.” He could do that in his sleep.
“I’m not going to lie to you, but you look like some of the color drained out of that skin of yours. Roy won’t notice ’cause he don’t know you like I do. Now tell me the truth. Are you ready?”
“You’re starting to sound like my family. I can handle the car for a few laps around the track. Stop worrying.” Gus also sounded like Tara this morning. Were his symptoms starting to poke through? He’d been doing okay until recently. He would go days operating at ninety-five percent. The stress of fighting with Jett and losing Tara might have made the symptoms worse.
“I’m going to ask them to patch me in so I can talk to you while you’re driving. I won’t say much. I’m there to listen. If you need help, you just give me the word.”
“Like a code word?”
“No.” Gus wiped the air with his hand. “Just say, ‘Gus, I need help.’ You want me to remember some dumbass code word.” Gus shook his head and followed in Roy’s path.
The rest would be up to him. This was just a practice run. No pressure. No media. He felt fine when he focused, and a driver had to be focused to race. Today’s practice would be a walk in the park. Hopefully, not a dark, lonely park.
He changed into the fire suit and started up the car. Strapped into a race car was where he was meant to be.
He put the car in first and maneuvered onto the track. The stick shift advanced through each gear with the ease of a bird in flight. His feet pressed the pedals in perfect timing as the tires gripped the asphalt like a man making love to his woman.
He had nothing to worry about.
Except for the pain and the loss of vision.