37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
M arny screams in delight and pumps her arms in the air as Wyatt drifts the 350Z through the S-turn in front of the section of stands we are sitting in. We jump to our feet as the tire smoke billows and atomized rubber settles on our skin from the hazy cloud. Wyatt absolutely killed that heat in the great eight matchups. I am almost certain the judges will agree with me, but wring my hands and shimmy in my seat as I wait for his score. This competition has been fierce. Griffin made his way through his heat with a higher score than Jenzi Gushi and is awaiting the final four matchups.
“Yes! He’s moving on!” Marny yells when the scores are announced, grabbing my arm and bouncing in her seat.
Marny’s enthusiasm is infectious and has me smiling wide, enjoying having someone to watch the races with. I’m used to crawling through the stands, throwing out swag and catching a few races here and there, but to sit with a friend and actually enjoy a competition is rare and welcome. Paul granted me freedom from the booth and pit area for the evening matchups. He packed all of our swag away and sent me off to “entertain Marny”, even though she’s practically entertaining me with her happy enthusiasm.
“Why haven’t you come to any of the competitions before? You seem to really enjoy watching.” I twist my hair into a bun on top of my head and hold it there, fanning my face. It’s fucking hot out here today. The heat is shimmering off the black asphalt in waves that are disrupted by the cars hurtling through the course.
Marny settles back onto the bleachers and fans herself with a flyer. “Paul says I’m too invested in the team. I mean, these guys are family. Of course I want them to win everything. I get really bummed when they don’t do as well as I hope and Paul can’t take it when I’m upset,” she says with seriousness, her eyes growing round and her smile fading. “It’s all fun when they win, though. Also the heat and sun don’t really agree with my ginger complexion.”
“Sounds like you’ve got Paul pretty damn whipped if he can’t take you being upset over races,” I tease, poking Marny’s hand. “Teach me your ways, master.”
“Oh, you just have to find a good man who loves you, warts and all. Then you treat him right and respect him. Guys want respect, whereas women want love. It translates the same way.” She smiles and bats her eyelashes at me as she fluffs her brilliant red hair from under her Smoke and Mirrors baseball hat.
“Well, I would have loved your company, but I completely understand. I’m glad you’re here today to keep me company and share your infinite married lady wisdom. ”
I sling my arm around her shoulders and watch as Charlie Sweeten in his Mustang races Rodrigo Sanchez in a Nissan Silvia. I really love those Silvias. They are such quintessential drift cars and absolutely gorgeous. Their American counterparts, the 240SX, just don’t carry the same appeal for me that the Japanese version does. The main difference between the otherwise identical cars is the SR20 motors that were put into the Japanese versions are badass whereas the American motors sucked donkey balls in comparison.
I’m brought out of my car porn contemplation by a mass groan from the crowd. I snap my eyes up to the track and focus on Charlie and Rodrigo. Charlie’s bumper is dragging the wall of a turn, sparks and smoke flying over the fenders. He exits the turn and over corrects the opposite direction, clearly fighting damage to what I assume have to be his suspension or the tires. Just as I complete that thought, his back tire comes unbeaded from the rim, the metal making contact with the ground and causing an arc of sparks to light up the track as he finishes his run. Oh shit, the judges are not going to award him favorably for that. Your car must remain in perfect working order throughout the heat to move on. That tire coming off is a major no-no.
Secret joy bubbles up inside of me, knowing Charlie will not be advancing to the next round. I don’t have to wait for Charlie’s team to call a competition time-out to fix the tire because that was their second heat. The judges do in fact agree with me and allow Rodrigo to move forward. This competition just got very interesting. Griffin, Wyatt, Rodrigo, and Mason will be our final four drivers for the final fight of the American Drift League’s California Circuit. Whoever leaves with the most collective points will enter the national circuit with a higher standing and more favorable odds to do well. Anyone who qualifies high enough for the ADL pro circuit can compete, but those who take their regional circuits overall always seem to do much better at the national level than those who just squeak by.
There is a minor delay as the bracket is figured out for the final four rounds. When it is announced that Wyatt and Rodrigo, and Mason and Griffin will be the matchups, I’m bouncing in my seat, nearly beside myself with excitement. Griffin can race Mason in his sleep. After watching Rodrigo, I’m sure he wouldn’t have advanced had Charlie not had a mechanical error that cost him his heat. Wyatt may not have much experience racing Rodrigo, but he has the skills to effectively shut him down. Or at least that is my hope.
Marny and I clasp hands and silently wait for Wyatt and Rodrigo to line up. It’s a beautiful sight as the early evening sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting that magic hour sunshine over the Southern California landscape. It creates an ethereal glow made more stunning by the clouds of smoke lingering over the track. Wyatt leads right off the bat, performing as expected. Rodrigo has the car and skills to keep up, but he’s just not quite as good. He hits an over exaggerated angle through a few turns, not following as closely to the line Wyatt set. His bumper doesn’t come as close to the wall, whereas Wyatt manages to drag his gracefully along the concrete barriers without doing any serious damage. When they line up for their second round, I am confident that once again Wyatt can outperform Rodrigo. The 350Z manages to keep up beautifully with the Silvia, mimicking each line and angle Rodrigo throws down throughout the course .
“He took it. Both rounds. He totally nailed them,” I say, shaking my head in happy disbelief.
Marny nods vigorously, crossing her legs and leaning onto her knee. “He’s made such awesome improvements this season. During practice in the off-season, he was way more timid and made more mistakes. We knew that his debut season in the ADL would be interesting because he has the skills and talent, but we had no idea he would do this well.”
“How did you find him?”
“Paul recruited him last season after watching some of his Pro-Am races. He was down in SoCal racing here because he felt like the California regionals would be a better fit for him than Texas.”
“Wyatt is from Texas?” I ask in disbelief. I had no idea. I twist my hair around my fingers and wonder if there was anything that would have given it away. Nope. I have never asked if he was a California native or not. I just assumed he was, like everyone else on the team. “He doesn’t even have an accent. I imagined all Texans would have thick drawls and say y’all every other word. That is so surprising to me. How did he end up out here?” I swipe sweat from my hairline and look back at the track as the announcers award higher points to Wyatt, sending him on to face the winner of Mason and Griffin’s round.
We cheer and clap for Wyatt as he drives off the track. Marny settles back on the bench next to me and looks over.
“He’s from Austin. I don’t think many Austinites have thick accents. That’s more rural Texas. He was stationed at Edwards Air Force Base in Lancaster. I guess when he was discharged he decided to stay in Southern California because he has some family in Huntington Beach, which is how he ended up racing out here.”
“You learn something new every day,” I muse to myself, my mind completely blown after learning about this new side of Wyatt, my sweet, gambling, nice guy who looks fantastic in glasses and would have made an excellent boyfriend if I had even a little more interest in him. Now I can add that he has a military past and Texas roots. I shake my head, refocusing on the track as Griffin and Mason line up.
This could go to either of them. They have proven race after race that they are evenly matched and it’s difficult to pick one over the other to win. I want Griffin to make this a third win over Mason, but who knows. I send up a silent prayer for no mechanical issues and a level head for Griffin as he starts off the heat following Mason’s FR-S in his Supra. When they complete their first heat, I honestly can’t decide who performed better. Mason leading and Griffin following almost identically makes it tough to pick a winner. From what I understand, the following car will be seen as the better driver if they can stick close to the lead car and hit all of the same angles and lines. It’s much easier to set the pace than it is to mimic it. As they line up for their second round, I hope Griffin can pull something out of his ass that will convince the judges he performed better and deserves higher points.
Griffin leads this heat, starting out of the gate aggressively and launching into a killer drift through the first set of turns. Mason, predictably, lags a tiny bit, creating a gap between the cars that he makes up in the straightaway that passes the stands. I am drawn to my feet by an invisible force as they hit the next set of turns, the smoke billowing from their tires and making it almost impossible to see their directional transition. I grip the railing in front of me, leaning into it as if my mere proximity to the track will induce a better run for Griffin. As they exit the smoke cloud, I see them once again transition, Mason not as close to Griffin’s bumper as he was when they entered. I like this space gap, as it favors Griffin for the judges. Entering the final section of the track, Griffin is on fire, creating more space and distancing himself from Mason as he hits each turn with perfection.
I know for sure that Griffin took that second heat. It’s up to the judges to decide if it was enough to award him higher points or ask for one more round from them because they were so evenly matched. I sit myself back on the bench next to Marny, pulling my miniskirt down my thighs as far it will go so I don’t burn the skin off my legs on the hot aluminum and fiddle with the lanyard of my VIP pass. My entire body is covered in sweat from the heat and nervous anxiety.
“The judges are sure taking their time. They must be having a hard time with the points. That was such a close round, I would not want to be in their position right now,” Marny says, sitting on the hands she was just smoothing down her thighs.
“Seriously,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off the track.
“I’m so torn over wanting him to win or not. If he does, he and Wyatt will be driving against each other, and that will have me even more conflicted over who to root for. God, this is torture,” she says loudly, eyeing the judge’s booth at the end of the stands.
“The judges scores are in. Thanks for waiting, folks,” the announcer says, continuing to draw out our suspense. “With ninety-two points, Griffin McGregor will advance to the next round. Mason Bauer came in right behind him at ninety-one points, so this was a very close call. He will take third place with that score. Now let’s take a short break to let the Smoke and Mirrors team change tires and get both of their cars ready for one last round. What an unbelievable fight tonight!”
I clutch Marny’s arm and bounce in my seat as the announcer drones on. “Holy shit! Both of our guys made it! This is amazing!”
“Should we go back to the pit?” Marny asks.
“No, they set up a pit on the track for maintenance in between rounds and will be handling the cars there instead of going back to the pit in the exhibitor area. We won’t get a chance to see them until this is all said and done,” I explain, scanning the track for our black and purple tent where the Supra is jacked up getting tires changed and the Z is having some sort of maintenance performed. I see both Wyatt and Griffin lending their muscle to the quick change and going over their cars before they have to make it back to the starting line.
This is crazy. I can’t even imagine what the energy in the pit is like right now. Are they acting civilized and like a team? Are Griffin and Wyatt at each other’s throats because of the competition? It’s difficult to say for sure, not knowing what headspace Griffin is in. If he’s back to his early in the season cocky ways, he could be trying to get in Wyatt’s head to play mental games with him before they even line up. If he’s being the more mature guy who has shown up recently, he might not be saying anything at all. I don’t know what I would prefer.
“How am I supposed to choose who I want to win? This is madness. I mean, either of them winning would be awesome, but it’s too bittersweet to have one lose,” I say in Marny’s direction, keeping my eyes locked on the track. Every minute that stretches out on that sinuous expanse of twisted asphalt has my nerves tangling to match. I feel so close to this race, I could just as well be the one racing for first place.
“Don’t look at it like that,” Marny says, patting my leg. “Our team wins regardless of who takes first. Our guys will be in first and second place. No other team here can say that has happened for them in this whole circuit. I don’t even think it has happened at the national level in the American Drift League.”
“You are so right.” I think about the previous year’s American Drift League series and can’t recall if any one team ever had two drivers take the top two spots. Many teams have more than one driver and often they will do well in the points overall, but this is rare as far as I know. “Marny, this is huge. Mas Boost and Forden and all of our sponsors are going to shit their pants with how great this is for them.”
I pull my cell out from where I had it tucked under my bra strap and pull up our social feeds. I snap a photo of the track with Griffin and Wyatt lining up and bring it up on Instagram. I caption it “BOTH of our drivers @GriffinMcGDrift and @WyattSMDrift made it to the final fight! We have two amazing WINNERS bringing down the house at #ADLIrw tonight. #SmokeandMirrorsRacing FTW!” I throw in some more hashtags for the event and the ADL and push it to our other social pages as I post it. Satisfied that I am somewhat managing my job, I tuck my phone back into my bra and refocus my attention on the track.
I’m riveted as the race begins with Griffin leading Wyatt. This is like so many practice races we have completed over the last six weeks, but so much more rides on it. Griffin performs as I expect him to, gunning it from the start, hitting the first set of turns with power and speed that sends him sliding through the S with an almost reckless abandon. He maintains control, just flirting with that danger zone where his traction would be lost and cause him to spin out. He spins his car effortlessly back through the transition. I gasp as Wyatt’s bumper clips the back end of the Supra in the process, but Griffin maintains his composure and doesn’t let the bump alter his course.
Wyatt is following aggressively, probably because in this race he can be sure of what his opponent will do. They know each other’s driving styles so well it’s almost a detriment now. Griffin manages to shake Wyatt loose in the straightaway, even if it’s a small gap. My hair whips around my face from the wind as they drag their bumpers along the wall near our seats. I can’t stand it any longer. I jump to my feet and rush to the railings, following their progress through the next set of turns. The smoky haze that covers the track makes it harder to figure out what is going on, but when they clear it, Wyatt is once again right on Griffin’s ass. They cross the finish line and head back to the start for their second heat.
I collapse into my seat, my heart pounding and a sheen of sweat covering my skin. My hands shake with adrenaline as my brain walks me through that run and I analyze each turn, every angle, and figure out how the hell this can be scored. I’ve never seen Wyatt so on top of his game. Griffin is not holding back at all, giving him everything, and yet he managed to not just keep up, but made it look fucking fantastic.
People are talking excitedly around us as the announcers read my thoughts and say the exact same thing about Wyatt .
“Wyatt is on fire! Where the hell has he been hiding this driving?” Marny says, frantically fanning herself with her crumpled flyer.
“This means more to him than any other matchup or race could,” I respond slowly. “He has more to prove. Griffin has consistently hit the podium throughout this circuit. Wyatt was finding his footing and has been doing better with each competition. Coming up against a more experienced racer, his teammate at that, he wants to show that he is just as good of a driver and worthy of that top spot on the podium.”
He may also be proving something not so obvious to anyone else. He asked me why I picked Griffin. It must have hurt him more than he let on that I chose Griffin when he was just as good of a catch, maybe better if you look at their histories on paper. He developed a crush that I fed because I liked the attention. Maybe he thinks he wasn’t good enough for me, so maybe he’s trying to prove that at least he is just as good of a driver, even if I chose someone else. It’s all conjecture and my mind overthinking every step of the way, but it’s a possibility for why Wyatt is pushing it so hard now. That or he just wants to win so fucking badly.
They line up again with Wyatt leading this round. It looks as if Griffin is playing it less aggressively as he chases Wyatt into the first set of turns. They initiate drift in a flawless dance that looks so smooth and practiced. Wyatt backs off his speed, causing Griffin to have to tap his brakes, breaking drift just before they change directions.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe as my nails dig crescents into my palms.
Griffin losing his angle like that will cost him points. He’s probably pissed. The angry roar of the engines and the shrill scream of the tires are louder than ever as they pass our section, Griffin mere inches off of Wyatt’s bumper. There is no way to be certain, but I can just imagine that Griffin’s face would be completely composed, at his most focused and intense. Wyatt tends to let his emotions play across his own face as he drives, giving you a peek into what he is feeling.
There’s no way Griffin is allowing Wyatt to force him to make any more mistakes this round. He’s more aggressive in the second half of the course, not letting Wyatt create space between their cars and even tapping his bumper through a transition. Wyatt wobbles a bit, almost losing traction and breaking drift enough to have to over correct before he can resume his push toward the finish line. Each of them breaking drift during this heat puts them dead even in my head, but who knows what the judges will say. They cross the finish line and head back toward the pit, waiting to see if the judges will ask for one more round or be able to declare a winner from those two heats alone.
I’m back on my feet and nearly hugging the railing without realizing I have ever left my seat in the stands. Marny comes to stand next to me. She grips my hand as we silently wait with the rest of the crowd. Well, we stay silent as the crowd positively bellows their thoughts and chant for one more round.
“That was a hell of a race. We would not like to be in the judges’ seats right now, because those Smoke and Mirrors guys just gave us one epic round that shows what excellent drivers they are,” the announcer says.
I nod along in agreement. Wyatt and Griffin just blew me away and I have seen them drive countless times now. I thought I knew what each was capable of. I had their driving styles figured out, and yet they just went and turned that on its head by changing tactics to play with each other. I know there won’t be another round as Griffin and Wyatt drive across the track toward the stands after it is radioed to them that they will not need to race again. A small measure of relief surges through me. Another round would have been just as difficult to decide.
“We have the judges’ cards in now. It looks like they were able to score those amazing rounds well enough to not need another round. Your winner for the Irwindale final showdown is—“ he cuts off, causing my heart to skip a beat as I nearly pee my pants in anticipation. “From Smoke and Mirrors Racing out of Newport Beach, California, Wyatt Parker!”
I push myself up onto the railing, my happiness pouring out of me in the form of a long, loud, woo girl scream that has Marny clutching my side and screaming along with me. We throw our arms around each other as we jump up and down in the stands. I let her go and look back at the track as Griffin and Wyatt climb out of their cars. Just as soon as my happiness has escaped my body, it is replaced by an almost violent disappointment that wipes the smile right off my face. Poor Griffin. I can’t imagine how disappointed he must be to have lost if this is what I am feeling after just watching that fight to the finish.
In a move that is so far removed from anything I could have possibly imagined, Griffin has the biggest smile on his face as he approaches Wyatt. The bear hug Griffin captures Wyatt in is so authentic and genuine I can feel their relationship cementing from the stands. Wyatt looks overjoyed as they clap each other on the back and then break apart as Griffin holds his arm over their heads. Griffin is beaming and talking to Wyatt, who nods along and once again hugs Griffin.
“Are you crying?” Marny’s quiet voice asks from my side .
I startle, wiping my cheeks to find there are tears running down my face, but I’m not sad in the least. This has made me so incredibly happy it’s leaking out of me. “I didn’t know something like this could make me so happy. Seeing Griffin supporting Wyatt after they raced, it’s just beautiful.”
It’s more than that, but I don’t think I need to tell Marny that it shows how much Griffin has been able to mature and grow this season. Not once has he started a fight on the track. He has maintained a proper level of celebration after every win that was able to give the crowd the fun they wanted without becoming obnoxious. I wasn’t sure they would get past their semi-rivalry I was at the root of this season. Seeing them come together as a team to support each other now is more than I could have ever hoped for. And not just support each other as teammates, but it’s obvious how genuinely happy Griffin is for Wyatt.
I shake my head in amazement. Griffin looks my way, his smile softening. He shrugs and gives me a goofy face that reminds me of when he says, “what the fuck could I do?” I blow him a kiss. He surprises me further when he catches it out of the air and places his fist against his heart. I laugh and wipe under my eyes again before turning to Marny.
“I think we can head to the pit now to catch up with the crew as they bring everything back to load onto the trailers. I’m cool with taking our time as the crowd thins, though.” I warily look at the staircase at the end of the stands and the line of people streaming out around us. There is no fucking way I am putting myself in a position to have the Laguna Seca stairway debacle happen a second time. I still have the now yellowing, black and blue bruises from a week ago .
“I still can’t believe Wyatt won. I’ll have to do the math for all of the points for this circuit to figure out where both of our guys stand. Griffin had enough going into these races to be in contention for hitting one of the top three spots, but Wyatt was a bit of a wild card with his string of fourth place finishes. I’m sure Paul and the guys have already figured it out.” Marny grabs her water bottle off the bench and we file into the line of people still exiting the stands. We make it out of there safely and start our slow walk to the expo and pit area.
As we are walking, the loud exhaust and rumbling engines of the Supra and the 350Z creep up next to us. People are pulling out their phones to take photos of our guys in their beautifully wrapped Mas Boost Energy cars.
“Hey, baby, get in,” I hear Griffin yell out as they pull up next to us. I look at Marny, who gestures for me to go and thumbs back at Wyatt, who waves. I wave at Wyatt and run around the front of the Supra and slide into the passenger seat as Marny heads to the Z.
“Ahh shit, that’s not fair. I want a ride in your car, sexy,” a brunette with huge tits says, leaning into the driver’s side window. Griffin has no choice but to look at her chest, as it’s pushed right into his face when he turns around. He quickly pulls his face back and revs the engine in warning.
I roll my lips with my teeth and try not to let the lioness in me reach across Griffin to grab Skanky’s fake weave and yank her head into the roof of the car. I take a deep breath and let Griffin handle this.
“Only one seat and it will always be for my girl right here. You have a good night, now,” he says, expertly navigating away from Skanky and her gigantic boobs. She jumps back with a disgruntled sound to avoid having her feet crushed. Ahh, too bad. She needed to be maimed in some way. Okay, chill Shelby. He chose you.
“Are you okay?” I ask instead of voicing my petty jealousy and desire to see a perfect stranger hurt for hitting on my guy.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Griffin says, intently scanning the crowd as he slowly makes his way through the rows of trailers and booths. “No, I’m fucking more than good, and it took losing to fucking Wyatt for me to finally see that.”
Confused, I look over at him and am surprised by the huge smile that is showing even above the face mask of his helmet. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t have to win everything to be happy. I am happier right now with a second place finish to my teammate than I have been hitting the top of the podium this season. What the hell, right?” I nod, still not completely following where this is coming from. “I drove like a fucking boss. I was more aggressive and still controlled and I gave it my all. I left it all on the track, nothing was saved for later. And I lost. But by doing that, I pushed Wyatt to perform better than he ever has and that was enough for him to win. So we both win.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. I am starting to understand that this is more than just about the drifting for Griffin. He’s seeing his growth both personally and professionally as well, and he’s happy with it. “You did amazing out there. I couldn’t believe how you held up to the pressure and were so flawless, even when there were obstacles in your path.”
“Shit, me neither,” Griffin says, pulling up to our trailer. He leaves the car running and turns toward me as he pulls his helmet off. “Now, get out of the car so we can get to the podium for that damn presentation. I plan to hose that fucker down with cheap champagne myself.”
I lean over and pull Griffin’s sweaty head toward me, laying a fat, wet kiss on his lips. “I love you.” I don’t wait for the reply I know isn’t coming and release him to get out of the car. He stops me by grabbing my hand and pulls me back for another quick, hot kiss.
“Baby.” He pauses, running his fingers up the sides of my face to cradle my head and gives me a serious look. “I love you back.” His voice is quiet and deep, the sound reverberating through my head and sending an electric current of pins and needles along my limbs as I replay his words a million times in a half second.
I can’t even make a joke saying it’s about time or I knew I could make him love me because this single, simple statement means more to me than I could have imagined it would. Griffin loves me back. I want to shout it out the window so every team in this row and every person on this race track will know that Griffin fucking McGregor loves me back. I just smile stupidly at him and get out of the car where Ryan rushes over to high five me.
“Our guys fucking did it! They won!” he shouts, twirling me around in the dark space between the two trailers. “We’re doing it up right tonight!” He twirls me back around and then heads over to help get the cars loaded onto the trailers.
I follow Griffin and Wyatt to the podium and get lots of photos and video as they are awarded first and second place. Griffin makes good on his promise to unleash a bottle of champagne on Wyatt, and then a couple cans of Mas Boost for good measure. They can’t stop laughing and Wyatt looks like he could float away, he’s so happy.
I find myself studying Griffin from the crowd. To anyone, he looks like himself, with a perma-grin plastered on his face. To me, I see a lightness that has replaced the chip on his shoulder weight he normally carries. The smiles aren’t forced and the happiness is real. He’s not brooding, he’s not bad mouthing anyone, and he’s certainly not making his sponsors angry with bad behavior. He’s a different person. I never imagined I could find him more attractive, but I find myself surprised to see I like this Griffin even more than I did the old one. I guess I can get down with these changes that were freaking me out before.
He better still pull my hair and talk dirty to me when it counts. I don’t want him to be a completely reformed bad boy. I still need that naughty badass who stole my heart from the first heated interaction.