2. Emerson
Emerson
“Dammit, Emerson! Did you have to cause an all-out brawl? With none other than Axel Graves himself?” The face of my team owner, Beau Rickford, is reddened with fury. His fingers are wrapped around the door with a deadly grip as he stews, awaiting my answer.
The image of Axel’s bloody nose flashes through my mind and there’s nothing I can do to stop the grin forming on my lips.
“Oh, no you don’t! Wipe that smug grin off your face and get your ass in here and take a seat,” Beau seethes. The door bumps against my shoulder as he paces back into the room, pointing to the chair next to the small hotel desk. “Close the door behind you.”
The momentary flutter of amusement quickly fades.
Shutting the door, I try to remain calm as I tentatively approach Beau.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened in our sport.
I’m positive it’s the combination of how it happened and who it was with that caught our team board’s attention.
My mind flashes back to two days ago. Back to the track at Watkins Glenn International.
The race was close. Too close.
My future hung in the balance. Everything I’d been working toward weighed on the outcome of that race. It determined whether I’d be allowed to move up in classes. I was so close to driving the Porsche Prototypes that I could already imagine myself in the seat.
I needed the win.
My driving coach, Eddy, scratched through the radio in my helmet. “This is it, Em. You and Axel are tied for laps. If you want that win, you better tighten those turns and stay close on those straightaways.”
Since we were tied for laps, it all came down to our time and who crossed the finish line first. IMSA WeatherTech SportsCar races were all about endurance. Each one tested the driver’s skill and stamina, while also demonstrating the car’s durability and pushing the drivers to their limits.
The melodic rumble of my engine hummed through me, thrumming like the adrenaline through my veins.
My racing career began at eight years old.
Now, I was thirty-two, and even closer to my goal of racing the LMP2 prototype.
I’d poured everything I could into perfecting my driving skill.
All I needed to do now was hold my focus.
I could do this.
This track had several curves, a Porsche’s dream.
The fact that Axel had managed to tie with me on laps was a testament to his skill as a driver.
Too bad his personality wasn’t as accomplished.
There was no humble bone inside of Axel Graves, so winning this race against him would be the highlight of my year.
With each curve of the track my tires gripped the asphalt. I maneuvered my car, fighting to make it difficult for others to pass around me. Holding my breath through the bends, I dominated ahead of my opponent each time. Axel tried hard to inch ahead but continued to fall short.
Unlike his Corvette, my Porsche could handle the curves at a higher speed. He had to slow down considerably to not overshoot or spin out. The straightaways, however, were the Corvette’s element.
It became a game of chase.
First I pulled ahead, then Axel.
We both fought to come out as champion.
I’d heard that Axel was vying for the same opportunity as me. Moving up classes. All eyes were on us, which only intensified the pressure.
By the last curve, I realized it was my final chance to make a move. There was only one last curve, and then a straightaway all the way to the finish line. If I didn’t get enough ahead of him in this last curve, there was no way that I’d be able to keep up with him.
“Em, don’t you dare,” Ed warned. “I can sense what you're thinking. It’s too risky.”
I didn’t respond because I’d already made up my mind.
We entered the final curve. I felt the sweat dripping down the back of my suit as I tightened my grip on the wheel. Axel moved to the outside. He thought he’d be able to slip in front of me at the last second.
Gritting my teeth, I leaned the Porsche closer, slowly inching him toward the outside line.
We were so close. One more inch and our cars would be touching.
The nose of Axel’s car streamed forward, and panic flooded through me.
He was going to come out of this curve ahead if I didn’t do something to stop him.
Unfortunately, the idea I had might not have the most favorable outcome to some. Bright red caught my sights again as Axel pulled an inch further.
This needed to end now.
Turning the wheel just a smidge more to the right, my Porsche collided with his. Rubbing against him just enough to send him into the rumble strip.
I watched with glee in the review mirror as Axel’s red and white striped Corvette crossed over the line, swerving out into the grass and bumping against the blue side wall.
Elation rippled through me as my wheels spun over the finish line seconds later and the cheers of my crew thundered through my helmet.
Pulling into the pits, I quickly jumped out of the car straight into the cheering arms of my teammates and crew. We all knew I was going to get docked for the stunt I just pulled, but that couldn’t douse the euphoria that spread through Rickford Racing’s team.
Except for the enraged driver fuming behind me.
“You fucking asshole!” Axel fingers clutched the back of my collar, swinging me around to face him. Both teams rushed to huddle around us, but I shook my head toward mine. I needed to handle this myself. My decision ignited this fury. It was up to me to put it out.
“Couldn’t handle your driving being shit, so you decided to nudge me off the track to grab the win?
” A smug smile tugged at his lips as my hands clenched into fists beside me.
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned in so only I could hear.
“You’re pathetic. An embarrassment to this sport.
A joke to your team. You must be a real highlight at family dinners, huh?
I bet your mother is so ashamed of you.”
Blood seared through my veins, all my composure flying out the window. My fist flew, colliding with Axel’s smug face. The satisfying crack filled the pits.
“You broke my fucking nose!” he hissed.
Then all hell broke loose in the pits around us.
Just like now in Beau’s room.
Pressure builds in my chest as I watch Beau stare out the window. It’s eerily silent while he runs both hands through his onyx waves, looking pensively at the buildings below. It’s been two days since the fight broke out in the pits with no news of the repercussions of my actions.
“Jesus, kid.” He releases a heavy sigh, turning to sit down in the chair across from me.
“Not only did the fight end up involving multiple drivers and crew, but it was recorded and now it’s all over the media.
You know the board doesn't tolerate unsportsmanlike conduct. Initiating the fight on top of the reckless stunt you pulled on the track that could have caused an accident, it’s safe to say they were furious.
I fought the best I could, Emerson. They suspended you until further notice. ”
Fuck.
Anger and fear swirl inside of me, and once again I’m unable to hold it in the way I have for years.
“Dammit, Beau! You can’t just take it all away because of one sudden outburst. It was just a fight,” I yell.
I slam my fist down onto the desk beside me with such force, the open bottle of water on top topples over and spills onto the carpet. Beau’s face heats as he turns abruptly.
“A fight that should have never happened to begin with!” he growls back.
“You're lucky that they didn’t revoke your damn license. I expect more from you, Emerson. You used to be a leader I could count on, the one I could send the rookies to for advice . . .” His voice trails off as he wipes a palm over his face.
“And now I’m not?” I ask, shame slowly dousing the anger that flamed through me just moments ago.
The remorseful look Beau gives me is my answer.
The moment my fist collided with Axel’s face, I knew I would have to face the music for what occurred.
Yeah, I may be a bit of a reckless playboy off the track, but I really do try to maintain focus and professionalism when on it.
That hard work helped earn the respect of my team, and helped me rise to the top of the rankings.
But off the track, this past year has been brutal for me. Grief’s taken its toll, and I find my control fraying a little more each day. When Axel brought up my Mama, the remaining string snapped. Perhaps because, in the darkest parts of my soul, I agree with him.
“Em, I’m worried about you.” Beau speaks softly, drawing me back to his gaze. “Your focus is lacking, and I’m beginning to wonder if your heart is in it like it used to be. Ever since Autumn passed, you’ve been slowly spiraling.”
The sound of her name makes me wince, tearing through the bandages around my heart. Even though it’s been two years since she passed, time hasn’t erased the gaping hole her death has left inside me.
“Eddy told me what Axel said down there, son.” He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Honestly, I think this suspension might be good for you.”
My brow lifts in response.
How could this ever be a good thing? I may have just ended my career.
“Take some time away, kid. Go home. Not to that fancy condo of yours back in Austin. Go home, to California. Visit your Dad, get back to your roots, find your focus again. In the meantime, I’ll keep working on the board to get your suspension lifted.”
“What about my chances of moving up to LMP2?” I swallow deeply, pushing down the rising nerves. I’ve been working toward this promotion for years, and I may have just erased every bit of hard work I’ve done. An uncomfortable silence lingers between us as Beau ponders his response.
“Make some serious changes, find the Emerson that I hired all those years ago, and I’ll give you back your shot, son.” His hand extends outward, awaiting mine. “Do we have a deal?”
“Deal,” I say, as we both rise and shake hands firmly.
Before exiting his hotel room, I glance back at the man who just single-handedly saved my career. “Thank you, Beau. I know you must have taken a lot of heat because of me. I promise to make it up to you.”
“Repay me by finding yourself again, Em.”
With a silent nod, I head back to my room to book a flight back to Oakley Falls.
“Ah, my son finally returns my call.” Preston Lane’s boisterous laugh rumbles against my ear.
“Hey, Dad,” I reply, my tone the opposite of his.
“Saw the race . . . and what happened after.” He clears his throat. “I assume that’s why you’re giving me a call?”
I struggle to find the right words to say. Dad has guided, pushed, and supported me through my entire dream. Now he’s about to find out that his son is unworthy of all that effort. He’s about to know how much of a failure I’ve become.
“I got suspended until further notice.”
“I see,” my father whispers across the line. I hold my breath, waiting for the disappointment in his tone that never comes. “So, what are you going to do in the meantime?”
My palm tugs at the back of my neck while I pace the room. “Yeah, that’s um—why I called. Beau thinks it would be a good idea for me to come home to Oakley Falls until the team board lifts my suspension. Would that be okay?”
The line goes silent and worry floods my thoughts.
After my Mama passed, it’s been hard for me to set foot in our home.
Every part of our land had a piece of her.
Everywhere I looked, there was a permanent reminder that I’d never again hear her soulful laugh or feel the warmth of her embrace.
Beautiful memories that should fill me with joy turned to ghosts that haunted my every step.
Father’s deep voice pulls me from my dark thoughts.
“This door is always open, son. You never have to ask to come home.”
Emotion thickens in my throat—only a whisper manages to pass through. “Thank you.” Silence falls between us once more, both of us struggling to find the words to say.
“Do you need me to pick you up?”
“No, I’ll rent a car.”
“You sure? That’s a lot of driving after such a long flight.” Concern laces through his words.
“You know I like driving.”
His deep chuckle cracks through the wall of tightness in my chest. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? Looking forward to seeing you soon, son.”
“Me, too.”
Perhaps this suspension is what I need to remind myself why I fell in love with racing in the first place. A chance to remind myself of who I am again. Because at this moment, I don’t recognize myself anymore.