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Slowly but surely, over Mike and Clint’s race and then several more (Mike wins, surprising me), I get to see a different side of this woman. She’s a roller coaster of emotions, from still and almost prayer-like when they line up to excited and yelling when she’s rooting for her guy to win. Or more precisely, her engine.
She’s worked on a large number of these machines.
“If so many people know that you’re doing all this custom work, how does your family not find out?” I ask in her ear at one point of not-deafening noise.
“I trust them. They trust me. They all know my dad, and a lot of them knew Big John too. When Dad pulled his one-eighty and stopped working on their engines, it left this void that needed to be filled. Who better than his daughter, the one who learned at his elbow?” She smiles at the memories, letting me know that despite the secrets, she has positive feelings about her dad.
“The first few I did for the cost of parts only, no labor charges at all. Had to prove myself as more than a tool bitch to these guys. The first time my engine got the win was one of the happiest moments of my life. I started charging that night, and now, I’ve got a sweet side gig with a lineup of work to do. The guys keep it quiet out of respect for my dad, who they loved and miss seeing around here, and for more practical reasons, a.k.a. if my cover gets blown, there’s a real shot that they’ll lose their best customizer and mechanic.” Zero modesty or brag, merely all truth.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her honestly and then plant a smacking kiss on her lips.
I don’t hear her answer because another race takes off and the loud squeal of tires drowns her out. But I see her smile. I feel it in my bones.
As Erica watches a few more races, I watch her. This whole thing is a big share, something she chose to tell me. She could’ve asked me to bail her out, then told me to fuck off. Honestly, I probably would’ve and not given it a second thought.
Okay, that part’s a lie. I would’ve thought about Erica again. At least once or twice, maybe a couple of dozen times. But the secret part I wouldn’t have pressed about.
They say the best way to keep a secret is to tell no one. If you keep your own mouth shut, there’s never any risk of discovery. Erica, though, has a secret an entire group of people knows but have managed to keep quiet. Plus me now, but I won’t let her down.
At one point, Jerry calls over. “Hey, Rix, you wanna show your boy toy what you can do?”
Boy? Toy? He’s obviously talking about me, but I can’t say I’ve been called a boy in a long while, and never a toy.
Erica grins but doesn’t move from my side. “Nah, Foxy needs a full check. Damn Officer Miles had her towed and I won’t race her till I know they didn’t fuck anything up. Can you believe they wouldn’t even let me oversee the hookup?” Her eyes hold fire, like it would be a common thing for a handcuffed prisoner to be in charge of handling the car they were just arrested for speeding in. “I told them if they so much as chipped her rust, I’d know it and make them pay.”
The threat seems pretty damn valid, though I don’t think anyone would pay for rust chipping. But something tells me Erica would make them pay, one way or another.
“Drive mine. She ain’t got a bottle like the newfangled ones you’re doing, but test out that 350 you put in her,” Jerry offers.
Erica’s smile is brighter than the spotlights lining the track. “Wanna see something cool?”
Test, test, test. Oh, she’s prodding and pushing me, testing to see how much it takes for me to tell her no. But this is her show, her expertise, not mine.
“Fuck yes, woman. Show me what you got.” I smile, honestly excited to see. And yes, a little terrified, but mostly excited.
She blinks slowly, eyes locked on me like a lie detector, and I stand there and take it. She needs to know I’m not stopping her, won’t stop her.
“Fuck it, Jerry. Let me grab my gear while you tell Ed.” Erica smacks me on the butt, making my grin grow, before she takes off at a jog toward her car.
I’ve never felt like such a sideline bitch before. But right this moment, I don’t mind it a bit. It’s a give and take. Like at Hank’s when I was teaching Erica some moves, she followed me easily. Now, when this is her thing, I’ll follow her. Hopefully, later, we can fuck each other stupid. See? All things in balance, as they should be.
