Chapter 6
SIX
REGAN
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere that’s not here?” Dad asks, taking the wrench out of my hand.
I’m still making some final adjustments on the car for the upcoming race. All week, I’ve worked with my crew to make sure the car’s setup is as perfect as possible; practicing pit stops and watching previous race footage to do whatever we can to gain every advantage possible.
“I would, but this is Daytona. I need every advantage I can get,” I say, reaching back for the wrench, but Dad pulls it away from me.
Daytona is a superspeedway with high speeds and an even higher risk of wrecking out of the race entirely if you’re not careful.
Not just because of the high speeds, but this track is big enough for three, sometimes four cars racing side by side.
And if one thing goes wrong in a pack like that, you can say goodbye to a good finish.
It’s Dixon’s bread and butter. for He dominates these types of tracks, and secretly… they intimidate me a little bit.
“We’ve got this, kiddo. It’ll be fine.” He finally hands the wrench back to me. “Call Cindy or another friend. Hang out while you have some time.”
Cindy Mullen is my childhood best friend; we grew up down the street from each other.
It’s always been tough for us to hang out during racing season, and now that Cindy has started taking college classes, she’s busier than ever.
She’s still my best friend, and we both do our best to be there for each other when it counts.
Cindy moved in down the street when I was eight. She was in her driveway drawing with chalk when I was passing her house on my bike. In the strange ways kids make friends, I stopped and walked over to her and asked if I could join. We’ve been basically joined at the hip ever since.
Except for that time in high school when we didn’t talk for three months because we were fighting about a boy.
A boy not even worth fighting about. Turns out, he was stringing both of us along until he ran off with the head cheerleader instead.
But we talked it out after discovering what actually happened, and all was forgotten.
She was and still is my rock. Especially after Mom died. She sat with me for hours and just let me cry. Not saying anything. Just being there. We’ve been there for each of our firsts. First kisses, first boyfriends, first time we each had sex—every milestone, we’ve been there for each other.
“She’s probably out with her boyfriend of the week or something,” I say with a shrug.
“Did you ask her or are you just assuming?” he asks.
How is it that he knows everything? I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. I hate it when he’s right—and that’s most of the time.
“Okay fine, I’m assuming. It’s probably the case, anyway,” I defend.
Dad takes the wrench from me again with a look that he doesn’t plan on giving it back this time.
“Get out of here. We leave in the morning.”
I leave the shop in a huff, still feeling like there is more I can do to prepare. After a shower to get all the grime off me, I FaceTime Cindy and do some catching up. Though seeing each other in person would be better, this is still good.
We arrive in Daytona by late afternoon the following day, and as soon as we are parked in the infield, we hit the ground running. It’s time to get ready for qualifying and practice. There’s no time to think about my nerves regarding this track and what race day may hold for me.
Dixon is able to snag the second position after qualifying, with Greyson Hyo taking the pole position. Not surprising there. I end up qualifying twelfth, which isn’t bad, but not the best starting position.
After qualifying and practice are over, Leslie Wise and I decide to take a trip to the beach for some much needed girl time and a chance to relax. Being around the guys is cool and all, but there is only so much testosterone a girl can take.
Having Leslie around is great. It’s nice to be able to bond over being women in male dominated sports, where we get to race and actually support and hype each other up.
She and I have developed a decent friendship on and off the track.
This is her rookie season in SCORS, and I’ve sort of taken her under my wing.
She’s very talented, and I have a feeling that she will be even better than me one day.
We are loading up my truck with beach chairs, umbrellas, and a cooler when I see Dixon approaching us.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Going somewhere, Brady?” he chirps.
“Don’t you have a grid girl to entertain?” I ask, ignoring his question completely.
“Don’t worry Brady, I’ve already entertained her. I just wanted to be sure you aren’t too upset with your qualifying run today.” His mouth quirks up in a sly grin. “Looks like you’ll need to hire some better engineers at Brady Racing.”
Leslie slides into the passenger seat of my truck, ducking so she doesn’t hit her head with her 5’10” frame. I climb in to try to get away, but Dixon decides to lean on the open window.
“Get off my window, Dixon. We would like to be somewhere you aren’t. Go back to your entertaining.” He steps back with a chuckle, and I fire up the truck and drive away. God, he’s so annoying.
Once we arrive at the beach, we set up our chairs and umbrellas. The sun is only just starting to set, but there’s still plenty of time to lay out in our bikinis.
We sit in comfortable silence and cool down with some water, taking in the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and the other beachgoers around us.
“So, Dean is competitive, huh?” she asks, breaking our silence. I’m not sure where she’s going with this question.
“So am I. What’s your point?” I ask, not turning to face her.
“He just seems to come after you most of the time,” she points out.
That gets me to look at her. Lifting my sunglasses up to the top of my head, she sweeps her long chestnut hair up into a high ponytail.
“We’re competitive. We always have been since he got here. We are both fighting for the same thing for next season. It’s just adding a little extra spark to it.” My words come out a little harsh, but it’s the truth.
“Doesn’t it seem like he overdoes it? I mean—who could hate you?
” she asks, gesturing to me, lifting her own sunglasses up, revealing her brown eyes.
I grab the sunscreen from my bag and apply it to my arms for something to do with my hands.
I don’t want to talk about Dean fucking Dixon the few moments I get to spend away from the track.
I shrug, placing my sunglasses back on my face, and resume soaking in the setting sun once I’m done applying the sunscreen. “He’s just a jerk, Les. And a player. He’s just mad that I’m better than him.”
“Sure about that, Brady?”
Dixon’s voice crawls through my ears like a worm burrowing through the dirt. I fight to not give him the satisfaction of looking up at him.
So much for our peace.
“Get out of here, Dixon. We’re trying to relax. We can't do that with you here,” I say.
“How’d you even find us, anyway?” Leslie asks.
Although he’s answering Leslie’s question, he only looks directly at me. I deliberately don’t meet his gaze. With him looking at me like that, it makes me squirm a little in my beach chair. The fact that he’s already shirtless doesn’t help. I’ve never realized how toned he is.
I hope he doesn’t notice my discomfort, but from the small smirk on his face, that I can see from my peripheral vision—he notices.
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he says, his tone filled with obvious flirtation that I gladly ignore and don’t reciprocate. “And you missed a spot on your back applying your sunscreen. I could always get that for you.”
I roll my eyes at his dumb comment. I can’t believe that he followed us here, just to annoy me. What does a girl have to do to get a moment of peace around here?
“Just pretend he’s not here,” I tell Leslie. She raises her eyebrows at me. “Don’t say anything.” I aggressively point a finger at her.
She raises her hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t say shit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Dixon is setting up a chair, opening a cooler, and pulling out a beer.
Fuck, he’s getting comfortable. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to take sharing a space with him.
It’s bad enough to have to see and race with him every weekend during the season.
We wanted some alone girl time, away from the testosterone filled garage area.
As I’m plotting our escape, someone else starts setting up a chair next to him. Great, he brought a friend. If it was bad before, it’s about to get worse. Much worse. Ian Hicks just sat in the empty chair next to Dixon.
As much as I hate Dixon, Hicks is right after him on my shit list. He’s the type to think his shit doesn’t stink because he comes from a wealthy family. That just because he can buy whatever, or whomever he wants, he can take whatever he wants, too.
He’s not even that good of a driver, for god’s sake. Mommy and Daddy just fund the team. He’s the one who should be getting questions about using his family to get to the top, not me.
But I digress.
Sexism in this sport is still alive and well, unfortunately.
After a few minutes, Hicks decides it’s his turn to ruin our peaceful evening. His light brown hair shines in the sun, perfectly coiffed. Unlike Dixon, whose dark hair hangs closer to his shoulders and is nothing like that rich boy look that Hicks has.
“Ladies, I see you are enjoying your time out of uniform,” Hicks calls. He scans both of our bodies, and it makes my stomach churn. But I refuse to show that his gaze makes me uncomfortable.
“Brady, why don’t we get some ice cream on the boardwalk? My treat,” Hicks says, gesturing toward the boardwalk by tilting his chin up. I don’t know why he would think I’d agree to spend any time alone with him. He must have hit his head when he crashed out of the race in New Hampshire last week.
“As great as that sounds,” I say in the most condescending tone I can muster, “I would rather stick hot pokers in my eyes than go anywhere with you.” The statement makes Leslie chuckle beside me.
“Come on, Brady. Don’t be like that. You won’t give me a chance?” he asks, dropping his voice lower. Hicks is not only known for being a rich asshole, but for hitting on anything that moves and has a vagina.
“Not in your life, Hicks,” I say, sounding firm. I stand and turn to Leslie. “Come on, looks like we won’t be able to relax here.”
We pack up everything we brought, leaving behind the beach and a fuming Hicks. I can feel his glare on my back as we stride away through the sand.
Dean
Brady and Leslie walk away, leaving Ian snarling in the sand. I don’t know why he would even bother approaching Brady like that.
I’ve never seen her at the track with someone other than her dad or friends. Maybe she just doesn’t bring who she’s seeing to the tracks with her. Why wouldn’t she bring someone she was dating? Not that I think about such things. I’m surprised that guys aren’t swarming her at every track we go to.
If she’s their type, I guess.
I wonder what her type is. Someone to help her with applying sunscreen.
Running their hands up and down her body to be sure it’s protected from the sun’s rays.
Not that I’d want that to be me, though that one bead of sweat that dripped between her breasts in that bikini top was tempting me to lick it right off her.
Woah, that’s not a thought I’d imagine having about Regan Brady. Though I did notice how she took me in, too. She liked what she saw. Too bad our rivalry will never make it possible for us to be anything but that. We’ve been fighting for way too long for that to change.
Hicks sits back down in one of the chairs that we set up next to Brady and Leslie to annoy them, and he grabs a beer from the cooler between us.
“Brady didn’t take you up on your offer?” I ask sarcastically.
“What’s her deal? I was polite and everything,” he exclaims, cracking open the beer can.
“Why’re you surprised? Brady doesn’t date.”
He turns to me, brows knitting together in confusion. “And how would you know that? Unless you’ve tried to shoot your shot, too,” he says smugly.
I bark out a laugh. “You haven’t noticed she never has any guys around? And I also don’t date,” I clarify.
“Right. Grid girls only.”
I nod. I don’t have the time to put in the effort to keep a girlfriend, nor do I have the desire.
The racing schedule on its own is brutal.
Because I race for a small team, I need to contribute financially.
On top of that, since being on my own, I’ve had to work another job to be sure I can put back into the team and provide for my own necessities.
It’s a lot at times, but I know when I get this spot in Cup, it’ll all be worth it, and I’ll be able to quit my second job.
“I can hook you up with someone, man,” I say. “Brady isn’t going to fold to you.”
“You sound so confident about that.”
There’s something in his tone that gives me an eerie feeling. Like he’s planning something that could end badly, though I’m not sure for whom.
“Thanks for letting me use your AirTag to find her. I couldn’t resist the urge to show up and annoy her,” I say.
I overheard her asking Leslie to go to the beach and I cooked up this plan, and Hicks is known for losing his wallet, keys, or anything not directly attached to his person; he has them on basically everything.
That’s the only reason he’s here, because he and I don’t really hang out unless we’re in a group setting.
He mainly inserts himself into the group. And with his parents being Richie Rich, he sometimes pays for dinners out or other things, which the guys don’t mind. And neither do I. This is another one of those instances.
“Not a problem. Though stalking is frowned upon.”
“It wasn’t stalking. Just following,” I explain.
Ian ignores me, going back to his beer. I look out at the ocean, taking in the view, listening to the sound the waves make as they crash on the shore. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air. This is the most relaxed that I’ll be all weekend, so I plan to enjoy it while I can.
Tomorrow is race day, and I need to be sure that I’m fully focused on winning. One step closer to beating Regan Brady for the ultimate prize…the Cup series.