35. Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
T he week between Laguna Seca and Irwindale is busy as hell. All of the guys are working tirelessly to get the Supra into fighting shape for one final round of drifting. The Nissan and the Black Sheep are given full work-ups and parts are replaced that could pose a threat of failure on race day. By Wednesday, the Supra is ready to be tested, so Griffin, Ryan, and Paul head out for some track time. Staying behind with Wyatt, Cole, and Ezra, I help clean up the mess of parts and then prioritize the work that needs to be done on client cars.
It’s really cool to see our parking lot full of customer cars waiting patiently to be modded and tuned by Smoke and Mirrors. I have taken over scheduling shop time for customers and managing invoices and part orders. I think Paul appreciates me picking up some of the influx of work that has come into the shop, and I am more than happy to do it. Ezra has Cole helping him on a supercharger install, so I invite Wyatt into the office to hang out with me.
I throw the cap from my water bottle at his head and pat the seat next to me. “You’re a betting man, how do you think the final challenge will go?” I ask him when he plops down on the plaid couch and gently settles my legs over his lap so I can stretch out.
He eyes me warily. “I may be a betting man, but I am done with that scene.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, of course, I just want to know how you are feeling about Irwindale,” I hastily correct my sloppily worded question and hope he won’t hold it against me. Sometimes tact escapes me when I need it most. Face meet palm.
Wyatt sighs and pats my leg. “I know what you mean, and I know you are even more curious about how I got in so deep. Even before Mike came to collect my debts, I knew I was in over my head.”
He looks up at me, adjusting the glasses on his face. His pretty, sky blue eyes hold a clarity and determination that makes me think he is ready to acknowledge his faults and move forward. At least I hope so.
“You know how something innocent can spiral out of control before you even realize it?” I nod at him, thinking of my feelings for Griffin and how quickly everything escalated and exploded. “That’s what happened with betting. One joking bet turned into cash in my hand and paved the way for more expensive bets. I got on a roll, I made some money. I lost some, too, but mostly it was little bits here and there until it was impossible for me to pass up a wager, or to make one out of nothing. There’s a high that comes with both winning and losing. It’s no fucking wonder when people tell you they lost thousands at a blackjack table trying to win back their money. There is always a possibility that the next gamble will be in your favor. But the house always wins in the end, even if you have a lucky night. There are always people standing by, waiting to take advantage of you, but you’re so fucking blind to your high that you don’t realize they are sharks. Someone always knows a guy, who knows another guy who can get you some cash or take your bet that you are so sure of. That’s how I wound up with Mike Alves tracking me down, insisting I pay my debts for bad bets.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone, or get help earlier?” I have a hard time parting with my hard earned money when it’s not going to clothe, feed, or entertain me, so I have no concept of how gambling could be fun for someone. It seems like common sense to see you are out of control and try to fix it.
“Well, first of all, it’s not that simple to recognize when you have a problem.” He eyes me pointedly and I flush, knowing he’s being polite and answering my questions even though I may be prying. “But it’s also fucking sad to realize what has happened. You don’t want anyone to know. I’m only now seeing I need help and I can’t do it on my own. I made an appointment with a counselor last week.” He twists a nubby thread on the couch cushion and refuses to meet my eyes during his admission. “I’ll be seeing him regularly to work on my issues. He said some psychobabble about this stemming from other deep-seated issues that should be addressed in order to correct my gambling problem,“ he says, making air quotes. “Apparently, gambling isn’t bad enough, I have to dredge up the past and figure out what else is to blame. ”
“That’s really brave of you. I admire your willingness to seek help and to tell me about it now. Thanks for letting me in.”
“Sweet thing...” he stops himself and shakes his head. “Why couldn’t things have turned out differently for us? Why did you have to choose him? Why not me? I know there’s some chemistry here.”
The rawness in his expression has me shrinking back against the couch. I’m staggered by his sudden change of topic and the directness of his statement. My heart hammers as my brain frantically processes and looks for the best route through this, that won’t break him. I want to be honest and tell him I fell in love with Griffin without even wanting to; that we are two pieces to the same fucked up puzzle, but that’s not what he wants to hear. I wrack my brain for the best way to answer. Slowly, a thought begins to form that I think I can run with.
“There’s someone out there for you who will make you see that answer for yourself. There is no clear-cut reason I could tell you for why things didn’t work out differently for us. Hell, it’s not even easy to explain what it is about Griffin that draws me in. It may sound stupid, but I see in him something that is missing from my heart, and I gravitate to it. It’s not easy and I could have chosen someone who irritated me less, but I like the challenge he brings to my life. He’s worth the struggle. I like that he pushes my buttons and isn’t afraid to speak his mind, even at the cost of my feelings. I like the side of him that’s a total dick as much as I like the side that is perfectly behaved. He’s perfect for me , even if he isn’t perfect at all. You will find that person for yourself and she’ll give you a run for your money unlike anyone has before, just wait. ”
“You say that like it’s supposed to comfort me,” Wyatt says with a lopsided grin. “Oh, let me tell you about this asshole I’m in love with and how you’ll find your own someday,” he mocks in a falsetto voice that doesn’t sound like me at all. I hope.
I punch his arm and throw him a dirty look. “Don’t be a jackass. I’m being honest with you.”
“Yeah, I know. Just doing myself a favor and protecting my sad little heart here.” He places his hand over his heart and gives me a puppy dog face that is nearly irresistible with his dimples popping and his eyes drawing me in behind his glasses. This guy.
I swat at his arm to diffuse the playful tension. “Fine, let’s change the subject back to my original question. How are you feeling about Irwindale and the last race of this circuit?” I settle back against the arm of the couch and raise an eyebrow at him.
“Pretty decent?” He shrugs and slides down the couch until his head is resting on the back cushion. “We have been racing well and getting where we need to, but Charlie and Mason are determined to give us strong competition every time. Not to mention all of the dark horse racers who come out of nowhere to round out the top eight in some order or another. We can’t rule anyone out, but Mason and Charlie are our main threats in competition. Griff and I have been studying their past races, though, and I think I have them figured out.”
Huh, this is news to me. I wasn’t aware that they hung out much, but if they are studying race footage together, they have to have buried their animosity from earlier in the season.
“And?” I prompt, circling my hand in the air.
“Charlie attacks early and stays on you. Mason is conservative through the first stretch and then guns it. Every time they do this. Griff got to use this knowledge to his advantage last weekend with Mason.”
“So you what, change the way you drive to adjust for them rather than sticking to your own style and game plan?”
“Exactly. Knowing Mason is conservative at first means Griff and I will go out hard and create space. With Charlie we stick close and don’t give him the option to gain on us.”
“You sure know what you’re talking about, for a rookie,” I tease.
“You’re pretty good at your job, for being just a pretty face,” he lobs back with a cheeky grin as he pinches my big toe. I wiggle my toes out of his grip and bury them in the cushion of the couch at his side. I don’t like my feet being touched. “Speaking of jobs, you keeping this one after the California Circuit is done?”
I sigh and look around the office I’ve grown so comfortable in. “I would hope so, but I have to wait for an official offer from Paul. We never really discussed what would come next, which was part of the reason I was looking for another team and it all blew up in my face.” I pick at my cuticles and revisit my fears about what comes next. What if Paul doesn’t need me for the National circuit?
“You know he’s not getting rid of you. If he took you back with open arms after the TW Motorsports shit-storm, you know he’s not going to just kick you to the curb now. I think you’re stuck with us.”
I smile and wink at Wyatt. “Good. I like it here. Now go help Cole and Ezra with that install so they can move on to the headers project on the 300Z that’s waiting. I want to check our social pages and do this job I like so much.” I lift my legs off Wyatt’s lap, freeing him to leave my plaid couch.
Funny how something can hold so much value. This ratty old couch is my butt’s favorite spot to sit on now after nearly losing it in my pursuits of something else. It’s the simple things that seem to make the most impact.