Six
SAWYER
The rest of December and the beginning of January flew by. Daniel and I celebrated the holidays with family in Cabo San Lucas. It was nice to get away for a while, and it helped keep our minds off of work and racing.
I stayed away from Daniel as much as possible when we weren’t around anyone else.
I can’t stand the act that he plays in front of people, the way he turns on his fake charm.
God forbid someone thinks we’re unhappy or imperfect.
It’s disturbing. I don’t understand how someone so devoid of emotion can make it appear effortless as he wins people over.
Once we got back to real life, however, I had an email waiting for me from Jackson with details about my test drive.
I met him out at the speedway where he had me drive some laps for him.
Not to say it was easy, but the test wasn’t nearly what I’d been expecting.
When he called me into the pit after my twentieth lap, I thought it was because he was going to dismiss me.
Instead, he told me he wanted to see me the following week to sign a contract.
I didn’t mention anything to Daniel until after I’d signed.
He wasn’t happy at all and voiced his extreme displeasure the night I broke the news to him.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and though he’s still very upset with me, Daniel is doing a fairly good job of hiding his feelings while in the presence of my family, as he usually does.
Today is the first day of the season. The first time I am going to be meeting my teammates in person.
I am scared shitless. I’ve been telling myself over and over that I belong on the team just as much as they do, and I think I’ve finally convinced myself.
However, I’m worried that they will need even more convincing than I did.
They’re some of the top drivers in the league, and I know I’m going to have to prove myself to them. To everyone.
Driving through the tunnel and onto the center of the track, I park in front of one of the garages.
As I get out of my car and step foot on the asphalt, I get the same feeling as I had all those years ago, seeing the grand arena for the first time.
I can smell the rubber permanently burned into the track.
I can hear the echoes of the engines roaring in my ears.
“Sawyer. Wonderful to see you again.”
I hear Jackson’s voice in the distance as he walks toward me from the garage. Facing him, I wave my hand in greeting. He seems a bit more reserved than he’d been the last few times we spoke. Less of a joker and more like a businessman. Like the boss he is.
We haven’t seen one another since my test drive at the beginning of January.
I’d thought for sure we would run into one another again before today.
I now wish we had—maybe I wouldn’t be so nervous right now.
I haven’t had to introduce him to Daniel yet, and I’m thankful for that.
I know it will not be a good day when that time finally comes.
“Thank you, Jackson. You too,” I offer him a slight smile.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Great, I’m the last one here.
As he leads me, the sun escapes behind a cloud, casting a dark shadow over the speedway. An ominous feeling creeps into my bones, but I cast it away. It’s just my nerves acting up. I raise my head a little higher and swallow my fear.
I see a group of men ahead: my teammates.
I can hear hooting and laughter coming from them, joking around and having a good time.
I begin to relax a little bit, glad that they appear friendly.
I can’t help but feel out of place, though.
They’re already in their racing gear, whereas I’m in my converse, jeans, and a leather jacket.
“I always try to get garage number seven for practices,” Jackson tells me. “It’s my favorite number.”
He looks at me with a smile on his face, obviously trying to break the ice. I offer him a smile back. I hate small talk, it always feels so uncomfortable and forced, but I need to get used to talking to him.
“I prefer the number three, but I guess seven will be fine too.”
“There’s that personality I remember,” he teases, smiling and winking at me.
As we close the distance between us and the garage, I notice a shift in the air. A cool wind begins to stir, and not even my leather jacket is thick enough to stop goosebumps from breaking out all over my body.
“These are your teammates.”
Jackson waves a hand at the men scattered around the garage then rattles off their names, even though I know who they all are without having to be introduced.
Nate Allen, Robby Carson, Tim Mitchell, and Ryder Hall.
My awestruck face is met with stares of varying emotion.
Nate looks to be sizing me up, but I don’t know if it’s in a negative or positive manner.
Robby is looking at me like I just kicked a puppy.
Tim appears indifferent, and Ryder greets me with a smile.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you all.” It’s all I can muster under their scrutiny.
“Everyone, this is Sawyer Stone.
“I’m honored to be a part of the team.”
“Hi Sawyer, welcome,” Nate says.
“I still can’t believe you signed a girl,” Robby scoffs.
I’m hoping that the other three don’t agree with Robby’s sentiment and are just better at keeping their opinions hidden. I stand my ground and raise my chin a little higher, though the voice inside my head is screaming for me to run away.
“I may be a girl, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a good driver or that I don’t deserve to be here.”
Ooh, that’s it, Sawyer. You really told him.
“That’s enough. What did we talk about?” Jackson reprimands.
Is that why I’m the last one here? They had a meeting without me? Jackson had to call them together in advance to beg them to show me mercy? This just keeps getting better and better.
“You have a problem with your teammate, you find a way to work it out, or you don’t race. It’s as simple as that. You don’t like the way I run this team, you’re free to look for another one.”
Jackson stares at each one of them, pointedly, as he gives his speech.
“Now, get your shit together. I want everyone out on the track in five minutes or less.”
The guys move slowly as they finish zipping up their racing suits, attaching their HANS devices to their helmets before walking to their cars.
“They’ll come around,” Jackson assures me. “They’re good guys, this is just new for them.”
I nod to him. It’s all I can do since I can’t risk speaking. If I do, I believe that I will crack into a thousand pieces where I stand. My eyes flit down toward the tunnel, and I consider running.
This is it Sawyer. What you’ve been dreaming of forever. Make your choice.
I can leave right now. I can tell Jackson that this was all a big mistake, tear up my contract, and tell Daniel that he was right all along. I can let the men inside that garage know that they won and I agree with them. I don’t belong here.
Or I can dig my heels in and keep my head held high like my father taught me to do.
I can continue working hard, putting in the time, paying my dues, and not falter as I show them exactly who I am.
I can prove to them that they’re wrong about me.
That they don’t know anything about me. That I am strong and can accomplish any and everything I put my mind to.
“There’s your official Powell Racing gear,” Jackson waves his hand to something across the garage, breaking me from my internal reverie. “I’ve been holding on to it since you haven’t been able to meet up with me so I could give it to you. Even though we live in the same building.”
He looks at me with mock irritation. At least I think that’s what it is.
I try to think of something to say to explain why I haven’t been able to meet up with him, but I can’t.
How do you tell someone you’re stuck in a horrible relationship, and meeting up with another guy for any reason would cause your boyfriend to fly into a jealous rage?
“I’m joking, Sawyer. It’s fine,” he chuckles.
As he walks to the back of the garage and collects a racing suit and helmet from one of the workbenches, I make my decision.
If I can endure a life with Daniel, then I can endure anything.
He’s worse than all of these guys put together.
Besides, I’m not doing this for anyone but myself.
If I quit, the only person who will be let down is me.
They would all rejoice, and I refuse to give anyone that kind of satisfaction.
“Thank you.”
As he walks toward me with my gear in his hands, the fog clears from my mind, and I can feel a smile form on my face.
For the past month, I’ve known that I’m an official driver.
But when he places the racing suit in my hands, holding on to something so tangible makes it feel even more so.
It takes everything in me not to squeal with delight like a child.
“If you think that’s exciting, come with me.”
I follow Jackson down the line of cars parked along Pit Road. We pass the cars belonging to the other members of my team, each with their own number and sponsors’ logos covering their vehicle. The last car in the line is mine.
Its deep purple body color is absolutely beautiful. The logos from my various sponsors pop out all over the place: the hood, the doors, the windows. My mind is blown, and it feels like all of my breath has been sucked out of me.
Is this real life?
That’s when I notice the car number.
3
“Number three?” I question with surprise in my voice, thinking about the fact that I just told him it was my favorite number.
“I wish I could take credit for that, but it’s just a coincidence.”
Meant to be… maybe it’s a sign that I’m meant to be here.
My pit crew is working to make sure they tune every inch of my car up, so it’s working perfectly and safe to drive.
“Sawyer, this is Joe McIvey, your Pit Chief.”
The older man with salt and pepper hair extends his hand out to me.