Chapter thirty-five Round 1 Race #3
Tyler shook his head. "I don't know. I'm pissed.
I don't know. Guess I need to go find Davey.
" He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
He knew that when he finally relaxed after this adrenaline high, he might crash pretty hard.
His chest burned and his throat felt raw.
He picked up what personal things he had, which wasn't much, and headed off to find Davey.
He walked up to the garage area for Davey's team. He figured that would be the best place to check. He would be getting ready for the race. He figured Davey's heat was over since Andy and Shannon had been in the garage, but that didn't tell him where Davey might be.
His head mechanic, Shorty, walked over to him. "Whitmore? What's up? What can I do for you?"
"Looking for Davey. He around?"
"He's busy." Davey's head mechanic rubbed his hands on a greasy rag. "I can tell him you came by." Tyler knew it was a dismissal, but Shorty didn't know what Davey was to him and he obviously didn't know about the social media blow up of their photo. To Shorty, he was just a rival mechanic.
"Okay. How about Stewart? Or Brad?" He knew he could talk to either of them.
"What's this about?"
Tyler pursed his lips. He didn't want to tell Shorty anything. "I just—"
"Tyler?" Angel stepped in from around the side of the massive trailer.
"Hey. I need to talk to Stewart." He felt he'd better skip right to the main man. Angel would know where he could be found at least.
"Sure, come on," she said, taking his hand and leading him away from the pits. "What's going on, Ty? You look like death."
"Have you been checking the media? Check your phone?" Useless energy pumped through his veins again, just thinking about it.
Angel glared at him and pulled her phone out, flipping through it.
He snagged it from her hands and typed in a few key words, finding the picture way too quickly for his tastes. "Here," he said, handing her the phone back.
"Oh my God."
"You didn't take this picture, did you? Tell me you didn't do this!"
"Fuck! Tyler, no way. I didn't. If this is from when I think it is, though, you two were being so obvious.
" She shook her head and put the phone back in her pocket.
Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was sticking out the back of a ball cap.
She wore tight jeans and a Princeton jersey with 27 emblazoned on the front.
Was she actually on their team? "Come on. "
"Where we going? Where's Davey?"
"You can't tell him yet. The Main Event is starting soon." He knew she was right. The 250 race ran first, but that wouldn't take nearly long enough. Tyler had no idea how long it had been since Cole had fired him; time seemed to be warping around him.
Official people combed the track and the teams bustled about around them as they walked, Tyler following Angel into the stands and up to the Princeton tower where Stewart and others from the team would be watching the race.
"Angel," Tyler said before they stepped into the room. She turned around to look at him, her eyes full of concern, but he didn't know who or what she was concerned about in this situation. "I got fired."
"Fuck!" He had never heard her curse so much and not like that. "I'm sorry. Okay. We'll, uh, we'll figure it out. It's going to be okay." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
"Part of your job was keeping this kind of shit from hitting, wasn't it? You're going to be in trouble, too?"
"Probably. But, that doesn't matter. Okay? What matters is that you and Davey are okay. Okay?"
Part of him wanted to say "okay," just because she'd been nervously repeating that mantra. The bigger part of him didn't want to say anything else to her or anyone. His heart still pounded ceaselessly in his chest. With no outlet for his energy, he knew the inevitable crash would be coming soon.
He followed her into the Princeton suite. Stewart was there along with some suits, probably representatives from Princeton. He saw Brad and Tim standing by the back wall and went over to them while Angel pulled Stewart away from the executives, supposedly to tell him what was going on.
Brad put his water bottle down, greeting Tyler. "'Sup, Ty? What're you doing here? I didn't think we'd see you until Monday."
Tyler turned to him, his back to the big windows and subsequently to the Princeton sponsors.
Very quietly he said, "We've been outed.
It's crawling all over social media. Just use 'McAllister pic' as a keyword or hashtag.
" He practically mumbled the words, but Brad and Tim both flipped their phones open.
Tyler felt sick to his stomach. He eased his way around them and slid to the floor putting his hands on his head.
His heart rate finally started calming. His brain felt like it had been hijacked, and though trying to get back online, seemed to be failing miserably.
My career is over.
He brushed away the tears that pooled up in the corners of his eyes.