43. Chapter 43
The ground in the pits vibrated under Beau's boots as they filled with more cars. He'd spotted Henry when they'd shown up, and that new car with the light purple stripes. Other than that, it was a sea of unfamiliar cars and unfamiliar faces.
“Holy shit.” Colt bounced on his toes next to Beau, his curls lifting in the breeze. “This is crazy. Like a meet.” His gaze followed a pit crew who were running past them in a panic. “Except Chicken Hat Larry isn't over there in his sleeping bag telling Rosario to change the station on his radio.”
Beau raised his eyebrows at Colt, who was fiddling with his wasp necklace now. “Do I even want to know who Chicken Hat Larry is?”
“Just the homeless dude who showed up to watch when we raced near his bridge.” Colt grinned that dimpled grin that always made Beau's chest feel tight. “Cool dude. He had a sixth sense for when the cops were two blocks out. Better than any scanner you’ve got in that truck.”
“And the chicken hat?” Beau crossed his arms. Sometimes, he forgot what kind of life Colt had led just two months ago.
“Chicken Hat Larry has a beanie with a taxidermy chicken head on top.” Colt held one of his fingers up like a horn sticking out of his forehead. “Like this. Black silkie chicken.”
“Well.” Shaking his head, Beau pulled out his tablet. “I asked.”
“Hey, you're that guy from TikTok!”
They both turned to see a group of girls wearing Daisy Dukes and almost nothing else wandering over.
One of them, a short girl with thick thighs covered in tattoos and corn-silk blonde hair, was giving Colt a look like she wanted a lot more than a selfie.
Beau was reminded of the girl that Colt had been grinding against in the bar a month ago.
“Yeah, that's me.” Colt grinned and dropped his hand from his wasp.
Beau hooked a finger in his own belt loop, leaned against the car, and told himself he was watching the pit chaos instead of settling in to listen.
“Oh my God, you're hotter in person.” The girl's friends giggled, and she came closer with a smile.
Colt wiggled his eyebrows. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his toes. Beau snapped his jaw shut. “What can I do for you ladies?”
“We're actually here to see you.” The girl batted her eyes and tucked some hair behind her ear. “We've been following you on TikTok since your arrest.”
“Jamie more than anyone.” One of the other girls, tall and thin with dark skin and her hair twisted into a tight bun, pushed ‘Jamie’ gently forward.
Jamie giggled and pushed her chest out, her top holding on by sheer will.
“Yeah. It's true.” She smiled at Colt, all straight white teeth with some kind of piercing on her upper gums. “Listen, there's this party tonight up in the Hills.
It'll start after the race. We were wondering if you might come with us. If you're not…busy?”
“The Hills, huh?” Colt dropped his voice to something sweet and rough, stepping forward until Jamie had to look up to meet his eye. He reached out and tapped the brim of her baseball cap, and her cheeks lit bright red. “Pretty girl like you's gonna cause a riot in that bougie-ass neighborhood.”
Beau’s boots shifted gravel as he dug in his heel. He wanted to grab Colt by the back of his neck and drag him off.
And then what? You're not even allowed to touch him.
“Thing is,” Colt continued as he leaned closer and lowered his voice to a stage whisper.
“I'm all out of room for trouble. Arrested recently, you know. Plus—” He hooked his thumb behind him toward Beau, and the girls all peered around Colt’s shoulder to look.
“I'm under strict adult supervision tonight after the race. Coach might murder me dead if I go out and drink after an all-day event.”
“He's welcome to come, too,” one of the other girls said, her eyes tracking from Beau’s boots to his chin.
Colt laughed, and Beau huffed, the noise drowned out by the crowd.
“Naw, girls, we're just old athletes. Very boring.” Colt slung his arm around Jamie and another around the girl who'd given Beau the once-over and turned them until they were all facing the rest of the crew.
“But you see that tall, hot guy over there?
With the hat? Name's Xavier, and he's had a shit day.
Girlfriend left him. Shame. Anyway, he's my best pit crew member, and happens to be real good with his hands.”
He slipped his arms off the girls and nudged them forward. “How about you do me a solid and go ask him to come? It would mean a lot to me, truly.”
The girls sauntered off, looking like they'd won something instead of being thoroughly rejected. Impressive, actually, and as Colt came to stand next to Beau, their arms touching, Beau's shoulders relaxed enough for him to feel that they'd been tight.
He dropped his hand from his belt loop, and his knuckles nearly brushed Colt’s leg. “Didn't know Xavier had a girl.”
“He didn't.” Colt shuffled a bit closer. “But he'll show them a good time.”
“Mhmm.”
Colt’s arm dropped too, hanging next to Beau’s just slightly behind them. “I like you possessive, Beau. But I'm not gonna play with you like that on purpose.”
Beau glanced at him and then back toward the crowd. “Never said you were.”
“You didn't have to. I have eyes.” Colt kept watching the deafening crowd, but reached out with his pinky and slipped it around Beau's. “You've got me. I'm not looking anywhere else.”
Neither of them said ‘for four months’, but it lingered between them like something thick. Beau ran his thumb across Colt’s knuckles anyway.
They stood like that until the PA system screamed over the waiting crowd that qualifiers were about to start. Half the gathered racers imploded with activity, and Beau got the feeling that half of them were going to end up in B-main. Over-eager and nervous, likely less experienced.
He brushed Colt’s knuckles one more time and pulled away to check his tablet. “You're in round three for qualifiers. No one we know is with you.”
Colt leaned closer and peered over his arm at the screen. “Car 22 is. The one that took Kendrick’s place when he got the boot. She's pretty good.”
“She?” Beau looked up as the crew started making their way over, zipping up their suits and dodging the crowd.
“Yeah. She started back of the pack last race and was front of the mid by the end.” He shrugged. “She's good. Heard one of the other guys talking shit because she's a girl though.”
“Yeah, well, idiots are everywhere.” The tablet pinged with a message from the track forum, and Beau opened it. “Women are better racers than men most of the time, in my experience. If they can get past the bullshit.”
“Not a common sentiment in a place like this.”
Beau and Colt looked up to find a woman in front of them, mid-thirties maybe. She had on fitted black slacks, a black button-up left open at the collar, and a vest in June bug green. Her hair was longer and pushed back from her face at the top, tapering to shaved at the bottom.
“We're not common.” Colt stepped forward and held out his hand. “Colton Rourke.”
The woman's lips quirked as she took his hand, her sleeve riding up to show a tattooed wrist. “I know. Hard to miss if you follow racing circle socials.”
Charming smile out in full force, Colt let go and nudged Beau. “This tall drink of water is my coach, Mercer.”
“I see his social media personality isn't a front,” the woman mused as she took Beau’s hand. “What do you think of your odds today? The Copper Classic isn't like your usual races.”
“Field's tougher than we're used to. More experienced drivers, longer day, tighter pack.” Beau scanned the crowd again, and saw the guys holding back and watching them instead of approaching while a suit was close.
“But Colt’s been running clean laps all week, his reaction times are solid, and he's good under pressure.”
Colt was watching him with sharp, heavy eyes. He wanted to know what Beau thought, too. Am I a good boy in a different flavor.
“Qualifiers'll tell us where we stand. If he keeps his head and drives his race instead of someone else's, we'll be competitive.”
Colt grinned at the suit. “I'm not here to win pretty. I'm here to finish strong.”
The suit smiled and nodded. “Good to hear it.” She glanced toward the track as the first qualifier started, then back to them. “Looks like we're underway. Keep it on all four, Mr. Rourke.”
“Will do.” Colt gave her a two finger salute, and they watched her disappear into the crowd.
Interesting phrasing. Not ‘how do you think you’ll do’, but ‘what do you think of your odds.’ He’d put money on her being a scout or a driver herself. They were all over this event, which made sense. The $25k prize some local casino owner had put up had drawn drivers from all over the state.
“Who was that?” Camila asked as she and the guys hustled up.
“Dunno.” Shrugging, Colt started more stretches. “Hot though.”
Camila rolled her eyes right along with Beau. “You think everyone's hot.”
“I just have a well-rounded appreciation for the human form.” Colt yanked Camila over and kissed the top of her head before pushing her back toward the rest of the crew. “Now go fix my car, grease monkey.”
”Grease monkey is rude.” Xavier came up behind him and pulled him back to ruffle his hair. “But I’ll forgive you because you were an A+ wingman just now.”
”Xavier, check those tires.” It was ninety-six degrees, but would drop drastically this time of year when the sun set. “Decrease the pressure for the qualifiers. Gonna be slick out there from the heat. He’ll want the extra grip.”
“You got it, boss.” Xavier pushed Colt away and got the others gathered for work.
“So, that lady,” Colt started as he rolled his shoulders. “Kinda different vibes, huh? You think she’s a NASCAR scout?”
Beau hummed. “Maybe. Saw three walking by this morning.”
But he had a feeling she wasn't, the more he thought about it. The NASCAR scouts were almost all older white men wearing some kind of branding. Whoever she was, she was gone, and Beau had a race to worry about.
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