Chapter 36 Dean
THIRTY-SIX
DEAN
I’m sweating bullets in my fire suit after opening ceremonies, about to climb into this hot car for a day of racing. I’m strapped in and Steve comes up to put the window net up before I roll down pit road.
“Focus, Dixon. We are getting close to that championship. Stay ahead of Brady as much as you can.”
“We go this,” I say reassuringly, giving him a fist bump.
Sure, stay focused and don’t think about Regan in the way I really want to think about her, or how she could find out about my drunken hookup and ruin everything.
My mind has been nonstop since talking with Regan during qualifying about changing our arrangement to exclusive benefits.
I know we didn’t have that term set into place when we labeled this as benefits, but I know she won’t see the hookup that way.
I don’t think I see it that way, which is why I can’t tell her.
She already seems skittish as is, and telling her will just make her run, just like she did at the gala. Though this time, she may not come back.
With it being so hot today, the track is slick. It’s going to be a wild afternoon of racing with everyone sliding around trying to find the best line with the most grip.
The first thirty laps or so are calm and stay under green flag conditions. I’ve been able to move up a few positions from where I started, but my handling isn’t great and I’m way too loose in the corners to really make any more progress.
The yellow flag waves for a caution, and I’m ready to come down pit road for adjustments.
“Pit this time. Four tires, fuel, and adjustments coming your way,” Steve says through the radio.
“Ten-four. Super loose out here in the second and third corners.”
I come in, get my adjustments, and snag the tenth position. That is, until Steve calms me back through for a pass through penalty down pit road for speeding. Just like in the real world, you get in trouble for speeding on pit road, and the sensors they use now are super sensitive.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I take my penalty and come back out onto the track, already a lap behind the leaders, trying to catch back up to the pack. One by one I start to pick off the leaders as I pass them to hopefully get my lap back. What I’m really hoping for is a caution so I can more easily make that happen.
Regan has been running well, been in the top five most of the day according to my spotter.
Leslie has had the dominant car all day.
She and Greyson have been battling up front for most of this race, switching positions.
Another caution is called for a car spinning into the grass, and the relief I feel is strong.
I get the chance to get my lap back as I get waved around the field and line up at the end of the longest line of leaders after they have made their pit stops.
The race restarts, and Steve comes over the radio again. “Brady is six spots ahead of you, try to track her down.”
“Ten-four,” I acknowledge, digging in and pushing all other thoughts of Regan aside.
On this track, we are Brady and Dixon, not Regan and Dean.
And there is a difference between the two.
My car starts to adjust to the ever changing track as this race progresses, and I’m more easily able to get through traffic.
Just then, a cloud of smoke obstructs my view in front of me.
“Go low, multiple cars spinning up the track,” my spotter calls.
I move down to hopefully get out of the way since I can’t see a fucking thing through all this smoke.
I’m able to make it through, and so does Regan.
Not that I’m wishing for her to crash, especially after I panicked after her crash in Richmond, but having her out of the race would make my day easier.
“Brady made it through,” my spotter confirms. Simultaneously, I breathe a sigh of relief that she made it through, and my jaw tenses knowing I still have to get by her.
There are about fifteen laps left, and pit road is going to be busy. I can’t afford any kind of mistakes this time around, or I’m done for. Everyone takes the opportunity to come down pit road. Only a few people opt out; it looks like it’s Hicks and Drew.
“Fuel and two tires,” Steve calls. “Looks like Brady is doing the same strategy.”
Brady and I restart side by side in fifth and sixth—this may get dicey. The green flag is back in the air with ten laps to go, and everyone is fighting and scrambling for position.
I focus on doing my best to get around Regan, to gain as many points as I can, granted she’s not making it easy. Not that I would expect her to. I’m forced to drop behind her in line or risk falling further into the field.
“White flag, white flag,” Steve says.
I push my car to the edge, dropping beside her again, trying to get every advantage possible.
In the final two turns, I start to pull away.
I push too hard and my car boggles, causing me to slow down so that I don’t crash instead.
Regan easily pulls around me. Checkered flag waves as Hicks claims the win.
Disappointment floods me as I climb out of the car, though I know I fought as hard as I could and that I left everything out there on the track. It still turns out to be a decent points day overall with a fourth place finish.
In a flash, Evan Knight is next to me with his microphone in hand to interview me after I’m out of the car. “Dean, what a race. You and Regan really battled it out there at the end. How do you feel about the race as a whole?”
“We fought hard all day with handling issues and that pit penalty, but we were able to come back and still get a decent finish, even if I wasn’t able to pass Regan at the end.”
“How are you feeling about your championship chances?”
“We are slowly getting closer and hoping to be able to capture the lead before Talladega.”
“Thanks, Dean.” Evan walks away to interview someone else as Regan is finishing her own interview with Katarina.
I catch her eye and there’s a slight glimmer in them. I’m not sure if it’s for our agreement or for the championship…I’m excited to find out.
After my post-race meeting with Steve and the team in the hauler, my head is still spinning at the information that was just dropped in my lap.
Now that Hicks has won this race, he is closer to catching me in the points than we had anticipated, and it’s throwing us off in what our original game plan was.
This is his second win this season, and has been consistent enough to sneak up on us.
We were all so focused on Regan, we didn’t calculate in Ian. This is going to make things harder. Having to focus on beating one person is hard, now I have to focus on two. I know my team at the track and in the shop will step up their game and ensure that we can keep him behind us.
I’m walking past Hicks’ hauler when he comes out, covered in confetti and champagne from victory lane.
“See the standings yet, Dixon?” he snarls. I’ve never had a good feeling about him ever, but since the gala, there has been something about him that really prickles my skin. He’s scheming something.
“I always look at the standings, Hicks. There is nothing to worry about. Still more races to kick your ass at.” I hold his gaze, and he has the fucking nerve to smirk at me. I roll my eyes and turn to leave until what he says next stops me in my tracks.
“Brady got you distracted, Dixon? You two seemed pretty cozy at the gala.”
I’m taken aback by his statement. I know she left after talking to him, he probably said something snarky. How can he tell it’s thrown me off? He can’t know about our arrangement, right?
Right?
“You know nothing about Brady and me,” I roar.
“So, there is something there. So, you’re going to tell her why you were late to qualifying?”
My body tenses, and I remember that he was there. He knows that I went home with someone else. He can guess what happened afterward.
“What do you want, Hicks?” I don’t move, but Hicks makes a few long strides toward me. He may be shorter than me, but damn if I don’t feel small at this moment. I can’t tell Regan what happened, and Hicks knows it and is planning on using this to his advantage.
“I want the championship and the Cup spot. If anyone should get it, it’s me.”
“Guess you’ll have to be sure to have your shit together for the next races. Make sure Mommy and Daddy pay for all the best people and parts to get you there because it’s certainly not your talent.”
His face scrunches up, and I think for a second he might take a swing at me for that low blow. A low blow, but a true one. But he keeps his arm folded in front of his chest.
Instead, he shakes his head with a slimy grin across his face. “You’re going to ensure I get it, Dixon. You are going to hold back and give it to me. Or I’m going to tell Brady everything.”
My eyes widen. He wants me to roll over and just let him gain points and pass me.
Just hand him everything I’ve been working my ass for—in return for his silence.
Rage boils in my chest, until I think about Regan and what her reaction will be to finding this out.
That rage instantly turns to bile in my stomach, threatening to appear.
“I’m not going to just hand you anything. If you can keep up, I may help you. Only if you keep your fucking mouth shut,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s so painful to say, but I need to protect Regan at all costs, and if this is the way to do it—then so be it.