12. Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
“ Y ou sure they’re going to come? I hate not riding with everyone,” I tell Ryan as we walk into the Irvine Motorsport Park, not far from the Smoke and Mirrors shop.
“Trust me, they want the track time. And they are all curious why you wanted to head out here earlier. Actually, I am too. Do I get to know what you’re up to now?”
I scan the area until I see Henry’s familiar truck and trailer near the end of the loading area. My heart does an excited twirl in my chest, a smile stretching my cheeks as I pick up the pace and nearly run to him.
“Henry,” I yell just before I launch myself into his arms.
He barely manages to catch me, having just straightened up from unhooking a tie-down on the trailer. It’s so good to see him. He reminds me of home and how much I miss my familiar routine. I bury my face in his chest and breathe deeply, his steadying presence the first thing to really center me all week as I have adjusted to new surroundings and people.
“Hey, baby girl, I’ve missed you,” he tells me as he sets me back on my feet and messes up my hair.
I look over at Ryan, my smile feeling a mile wide. He looks uncomfortable and gives me an unfriendly look. Oh, for crying out loud. Boys are such babies when they think they’re competing against each other.
“Ryan, this is Henry, my brother . Henry, this is Ryan, the Smoke and Mirrors mechanic, and probably my best friend down here.“ Ryan shoots me a look that is both relieved and surprised.
“Nice to meet you, Ryan. Thanks for taking care of my little sister. It’s hard not having her around the shop or the house anymore. We miss her like crazy, but apparently this gig was more important than keeping the family thing going.”
“Nice to meet you, man. We’re taking good care of her, I promise.” He turns to me, his expression puzzled. “What shop?”
I feel my face heat as I cut my eyes to Henry, praying he will keep his mouth shut. No such luck.
Henry pushes his shaggy blond hair behind his ears and looks at me, confused. “The family shop, bro. Jensen Performance. Didn’t Shelby tell you? She’s the shop manager. Our dad is Hank Jensen.” I shoot murderous daggers at an oblivious Henry, who looks willing to offer all of my closely guarded secrets at the slightest prompting.
“Wait, the Hank Jensen? He was huge in NASCAR, what, like ten years ago? My dad is a huge fan of watching cars drive in circles for hours. I grew up on that shit. Why didn’t you tell me, Shelby? Your shop has been consistently putting out awesome cars for years. That’s like the NorCal household name for big power.”
I blow out a frustrated breath and run my hands through my thick hair. I have known all along that eventually this would get out, no matter how hard I worked to keep it to myself. Judging by Ryan’s expression, it’s already changed his view of me.
“Because I didn’t want my association with my dad’s name or reputation to earn me any special favors, or change the way you see me. I just wanted to prove that I can do something on my own, without being attached to Jensen Performance or Hank Jensen. Besides, I’m just the brand ambassador and social media person; none of that needs to have the power of a shop job or family connections behind it.”
“But it’s freaking cool. No wonder you were so good with the Nissan. Did your dad teach you to drift?”
“Shelby was drifting? What car?” Henry asks, moving around the trailer to release more tie-downs and free the car cover.
“She took the Nissan 350Z out for a quick spin. It was awesome. The video is blowing up our social media presence. Wait, why are you all the way down here, with a trailer?”
“Because when the little sister calls in a request for her project car to be brought down so she can show some drift junkies what’s up, I have to oblige.” Henry rolls the cover off Project Black Sheep and gets a low whistle from Ryan.
“You better start explaining, Shelby. That’s a beautiful beast of a build right there, I need all the specs.”
I smile as I stare at my baby, all put together and looking ferocious and ready to shred some tires. “It’s Project Black Sheep, something Henry and I have been working on for two years.” I walk over to the sleek black muscle car. “This is a ’67 fastback Mustang with a fully built, twin turbo, LS6 motor that we got from one of Dad’s wrecked Corvettes. We kept the turbos small to keep the spool instant. On the low side, with the boost turned down, we’re looking at seven hundred horsepower to the wheels, for reliability, but Henry says we can easily handle twice that. We’ve got the suspension built to drift standards, so nothing you’re not already familiar with. Henry custom-built the exhaust and I’m told it sounds incredible.”
“Holy shit.” Ryan takes off his baseball hat and bends over to place his hands on his knees. He stares at the car reverently, looking as if he wants to run his hands over the matte black paint job. He straightens up and squints at me. “What do you mean, you’re told it sounds good? Haven’t you heard it?”
“I had to leave to come down here before Henry finished the build. He’s been keeping me updated and finally got it all installed and tuned this last week. This will be the first time I’ve driven her since we started the build from a drag car to drift setup.”
“And you insisted on making him come all this way here for you to do it now?”
“Not exactly.” I look over at Henry and smile, knowing he’s not even aware of my plans. “I want to let Griffin use it until the Supra is finished, so he still gets a chance at the ADL California title.”
“Are you insane?” Henry spits, walking over to me. “Shell, we just finished this thing. There’s not enough time to get it perfectly dialed in and get someone comfortable enough to drive it in competition. And fuck, that guy just crashed his car, what do you think he’s going to do to this? And what do you even get out of it, other than a beat to hell car and possible damage we’ll have to fix out of our pocket? No.”
I place my hands on Henry’s shoulders, looking up at his face that is so reminiscent of Dad, especially right now as he shoots down my idea. “It’s my decision, Henry, and I want to let S pure perfection on wheels.
Project Black Sheep is a beast.
I hit another set of turns that climb upward, managing to drift those corners and not hit the dirt off the course as I go. The downhill section is all softly swaying direction changes that I nail with precision, having made it through the course a half dozen times already. Each time I became more sure of myself. This time, I let it all come together in perfect harmony with the deep throaty roar of the engine, the shrill screech of the tires breaking free, and the smell of burnt rubber bathing it in magic.
My smile pushes my cheeks into the sides of the black helmet my head is safely encased in as I head toward the gathered group near the end of the track. I push and pull the handbrake, initiating drift, and feather the throttle to keep my slide going as I circle the S cocky driver, pissed off gearhead, or the nicer side I’ve only just begun to notice. His blue eyes capture mine, holding me hostage and making me want to say and do all sorts of unspeakable things that would not be fitting for teammates.
“Thank you.” His smoky voice purrs around the words, making it sound special and foreign.
He says so much more than that, though. His thank you is wrapped up with an apology, and a promise: he wants to treat me better, maybe even show me his appreciation for what I’ve done.
Or at least that’s how I’m reading it.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure anyone would have done the same if they could in this situation.” I wave off the emotions that whirl through my brain. Thoughts and promises of what could be with Griffin buoying my hope and fanning the sparks that have been smoldering under our tense, insult strewn interactions.
“That’s where you’re wrong. People don’t give a fuck if you’re out a car. No one is jumping to hand over a perfectly built race car just because they can. This is special, and it means more than you know.” He rubs his thumb over my knuckles, my fingers squeezing him back quickly before I pull my hand away. Damn his deep, resonant voice that undoes me. I want to roll around in his praise, but I can’t.
“Yeah, well, I’m happy to help.” I quickly unfasten my harness and scoot out the door. I’m not sure how to continue a conversation that straddles an invisible line between what I know from the past and what is possible in the future. And all around bad news if I can’t rein in my desire to jump his fucking bones.
“How was it? Different from driving yourself?” Henry asks, capturing me with an arm thrown around my shoulders. I smile up at him and look around the group. Only Wyatt looks a little put off by my brother’s affection. Does he want to be the one to stick me under his arm? Probably.
“It was...illuminating. A total rush. The car is perfect, Henry. Thank you for taking the time to make my crazy dream a reality.” I hug his waist and release him before I get caught up in the sappy feelings that are turning me to mush.
“Griff, what do you think? Can you drive it for Sonoma?” Paul asks as Griffin removes his helmet.
“It’s not the Supra, but it’s a good car. We can make it work. I can’t believe I get a second chance at making a push toward qualifying. I thought for sure I was going to be sitting out a few races and have to give up on the Pro Championships after the California Series.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” I say, catching his eye quickly before looking down at my shoes.
I am offering Griffin the opportunity to show me he’s more than an asshole with a few nice comments thrown in here and there. We’ll see if he can make the most of it, or if he truly is just a douchebag with a penchant for pissing me off.