Chapter 39
The last Sunday in May
Mack stood on the dais as her name was announced over the loudspeaker and waved to the three hundred thousand fans spread across the grandstands and infield.
Sponsor logos peppered her new fire suit, including an Indiana-based company that converted plastic bags into designer leggings and a giant Engine Starters patch for her angel investors.
Mack held Shaw’s hand and encouraged her to wave to the crowd.
From behind, she heard Laurie, Wes, and Billie cheer loudly for her.
As she stepped off the stage, she saw Leo waiting for his turn.
He’d qualified fourth, an excellent spot to stay out of trouble and vie for the win.
He pushed his Ray-Bans off his face and gave her a smile big enough to show that perfect snaggletooth.
He and Shaw bumped knuckles, and Mack couldn’t help but match his wide grin. “You ready to do this, Rookie?”
“Congrats on the Penske contract,” Mack said.
“You’ll be drinking champagne out of crystal flutes for breakfast.” When she read about Leo’s move to the elite team, she’d been genuinely thrilled for him.
She told herself it was stupid to feel hurt he hadn’t told her himself, that they’d only known each other a few weeks.
Leo’s face fell a little. “It’s a dream team, for sure. But it’s hard to leave JJR. Janet and I have been together a long time. I owe her everything.”
“You know the phone will still work, right? She’ll act annoyed but secretly love having you call to chat.”
“I already gave Janet my replacement recommendation.” When she read about Leo’s move to Penske, she’d wondered about the newly open seat at JJR but hadn’t let her hope extend that far.
Leo flicked his gaze to Shaw, who was preoccupied with the spectacle, and lowered his voice.
“I’ll still be based in Indy. I wanted a change, but .
. . well, hopefully it creates an opportunity for you. ”
Pursuing something with Leo was like the line she’d run in qualifying—dangerous, with a high probability she’d crash into the wall, but worth the payoff if it worked out. Watching him watching her, his face an intoxicating mix of sweet and intense, she knew it was a risk she was willing to take.
“Rookie! Let’s do this!” Jericho Blair’s unmistakable burr echoed around the busy backstage as he and Boomer made their way to Mack and Leo. He whistled at a nearby photographer. “If these people online want to call us the Track Pack, let’s give ’em some pictures. Smile, assholes.”
Mack pulled Shaw into the photo and stood between the friends she’d never expected to have. Two more photographers pushed in for the shot, and then another and another. Mack hoped it made every racing outlet.
“You’ve got this, Rookie. All you have to do is cross the yard of bricks and you won’t have that little R by your name next year,” Boomer said.
Her veins zinged at the possibility of returning here next year. Mere weeks ago, she’d have berated herself for the moment of desire, but she understood now that wishes, even if unrealized, wouldn’t break her. Hope could keep her going.
Mack turned to find Leo hunched over, listening to Shaw.
Shaw bounced on her toes, braided pigtails bouncing.
Billie had outdone herself on race day, with lots of glitter and checkered bows.
“You used to be my favorite driver but now it’s my mom.
You can be my second favorite driver. I want my mom to win! ”
Leo grinned. “I hope I win, but it’s okay if your mom beats me. She’s worked really hard to be here.”
Shaw preened as if Leo had complimented her. “Oh, she’s definitely going to beat you. She can drive different types of cars and with a broken hand.”
Leo threw his head back in laughter, and Mack glanced toward the dais so she wouldn’t keep watching Leo with her daughter. She motioned toward pit lane. “Good luck, Leo. If it’s not me, I hope it’s your win today.”
“Back at you, Rookie.” Leo leaned in. “I’ll see you . . . tonight? To celebrate?”
She couldn’t look away from him, even with the chaos carrying on around them.
He was unlike any man she’d ever known. Leo wasn’t threatened by someone else’s success, or afraid to be honest, and he kept his word.
He was confident but never arrogant, gentle but not soft.
He made her heart want one thing even while her head argued against it.
She went with her gut.
“With Shaw?”
The surprise on his face delighted her, and she grinned as his smile widened to match her own.
“Absolutely with Shaw,” he said, dark eyes sparkling.
His name blasted over the loudspeaker for his driver intro, and Leo took a few steps backward, grinning big enough that his dimple appeared under his beard. “Good luck, Mack. See you right here after the race.”
He’d laughed at her puzzled frown as he jogged up the steps to the podium, and when Mack finally turned, she realized they’d been standing at the entrance to victory lane.
As she walked through the paddock, Mack soaked in the electric energy of the last Sunday in May.
The heartbreaking years she’d spent watching other people race here, wishing it was herself instead, were worth this moment.
Standing in the shadow of Gasoline Alley and the iconic Pagoda, Mack knew she wouldn’t change one moment of her journey.
It wasn’t what she had planned and wasn’t how she would do it if she’d had a full range of choices.
It wasn’t an easy path. But it was her path, and it wasn’t over.
She’d needed those dark days to fully appreciate the lightness of finally being here. To know that whatever happened today, she’d taken a risk and the reward wasn’t just the racing, it was the pride she felt inside.
If she was lucky, she had a lot of life left ahead of her, and she planned to live it instead of surviving it.
After the driver introductions, a parade of thirty-three convertible Corvettes looped the drivers around the track, and Mack and Shaw waved at the massive crowd gathered to watch The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.
As long as she lived, and as many times as she earned the opportunity to participate in this race, Mack would remember watching women and girls stand and scream when she passed the grandstands.
She lifted her eyes to the perfect blue Hoosier sky and asked the universe to let her show those girls a victory.
One day, she’d stand on the podium with the winner’s wreath around her neck and dedicate her win to Shaw and the little girls who cheered her name.
Maybe Leo would be next to her, like he’d said, but she knew she’d be fine if he wasn’t. She controlled her own joy.
Time accelerated into hyperdrive and Mack tried to memorize each second.
She squeezed Shaw’s hand when a priest delivered an ecumenical invocation, stood tall as “Taps” played to honor fallen soldiers, and sang “Back Home Again in Indiana” with Billie, Wes, and Laurie.
Around them, most of the drivers shared last-minute conversations with their engineers, tugged on helmets, or made a final dash for the toilets.
But Mack inhaled and exhaled, trying to imprint this feeling into the very core of her body.
If she never experienced this moment again, if this was truly the only chance she ever had to race Indianapolis, she would be okay.
She was in control of her own life, and if she felt stuck again, she knew now that she could be honest with her dad, and Laurie, and they would listen.
Like a cardinal trapped on a sunporch, she had to find the door and fly through.
Laurie pulled Mack into her arms. “Go show your daughter and all those little girls out there”—she waved up at the grandstands—“that it’s time for a woman to win this damn race.”
Mack bit her tongue to stop tears from clouding her eyes. She squeezed Laurie tight, like they had as children. “Go fast, be safe,” they said in unison.
Wes was waiting for her next. Mack hoped the press of her arms around his shoulders conveyed her love and gratitude. “Go show ’em how a Williams drives. See you soon.”
She leaned down and kissed Shaw, told her how much she loved her, hugged her tight. Her daughter’s sweet smile was the perfect send-off.
The clock ticked down as Mack bumped fists with the crew one last time, listened to Janet’s final instructions, and pulled on her helmet. She slid into the driver’s seat and fastened her belts while doing one final radio check.
“All right, Rookie. Let’s show these boys how it’s done.”
Safe in the quiet confines of the car, Mack began her pre-race ritual.
Ray Harroun. Louis Meyer. Wilbur Shaw. Parnelli Jones.
Jim Clark. She mentally ticked her way through the names of all seventy-six men who won the most famous race in motorsports, but this time she added a woman. And soon, Mackenzie Williams.
“Drivers, start your engines!”
Behind her, the starter engaged and the now-familiar growl filled her mind and body. She checked her clutch and brakes, flexed her hand through the specialized splint, and exhaled as she slowly accelerated forward for the three parade laps before the green flag.
As she pulled alongside the other cars in her row, driving around the track in the traditional formation of eleven rows of three cars across, she glanced up at the hundreds of thousands of fans and wondered who else was out in the crowd, dreaming about racing around the most famous racetrack in the world and showing the boys how to win.
Who out there was brimming with ambition and determined to take on the ol’ boys club of racing.
Maybe it was her own daughter. Maybe it was a teenager, or maybe even a mom like her.
It wasn’t too late for any of them. There was time. There was always enough time for dreams.
“Green green green!” Jimmy cried into her radio.
Mack throttled up and crossed the yard of bricks, full send.