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“You didn’t answer your messages.”
“Sorry, didn’t realize I had any. I’ve been busy looking over the specs for the race and the changes the series made for this race.” I pull out my phone and see a few messages from Bud. I put the phone down and turn back to him. “What did you need?”
“I was checking in on the setup. Do we know where we need to start? I’d use Nate’s from last season, but he was a six-foot-three man and, well, we have a petite floozy pretending to be a race car driver,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“Why are you so insistent on tearing her down every chance you get? What’s the worst thing that can happen, she loses? Hunter will cut her next year, and we’ll get another new driver. It’s your job to win races, despite the gender of the driver sitting in the seat.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to, Saint? I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve been alive,” he counters.
“I respect that, Bud. I do. But I don’t agree with your treatment of Haisley just because she’s a woman. You’re not paid to like who drives for you, but you are paid to keep them safe and to put them in the best position possible,” I snap back. I can feel my anger intensifying. My heart is starting to race, and I can feel the muscles in my back tightening up.
“Women don’t belong in this sport, Saint. Best they stay far from a driver’s seat,” he replies.
“I disagree with that.”
“You have something for her? Huh, Saint? Something going on, on the side?” He lets out a laugh, and my fists start clenching at my sides. I stand up and take a deep breath, hoping it will keep me from punching his fat ass.
“No, I don’t. The only thing I have is the basic respect that I’ll have for any of the drivers I work for. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” I push past him in the doorway and head towards the simulation room.
There’s not much more we can do without her specs. Neil’s already placed the engine in. Mac is working on the wrap with the fabrication crew, and I’ve made the adjustments in the steering wheel that she requested.
I head to the sim room hoping to find her in there, and I’m not disappointed. Haisley is sitting inside the sim fighting with some of the components. “Fucking piece of crap,” I hear her mumble as she fidgets with the seat.
“Having a problem?” I ask startling her.
“Where did you appear from?” She huffs as she gives up on the seat.
“Just came in. Had to leave before I punched Bud in the face,” I reply, leaning against the seat. “Have you done any simulation yet? We need to get the car loaded in three days.”
“I’m trying to, but someone moved the damn seat, and now it won’t move back. And the computer is fucked up. UGH!” She lets out an exasperated breath. “Now, you show up…can my day go any worse?”
I hold up my hands. “What did I do wrong? I only asked you a question.”
“Yeah, the same one three other people asked,” she spits back at me.
“Well, they weren’t me, sweetheart, and I need to see how you want the fucking car set up so I can put you in the best position to win,” I protest back, crossing my arms over my chest.
“How thoughtful of you,” she replies with snark, turning her attention back to the computer.
“Listen, Haisley, I’m not the enemy, but if you want to act like I am, then do it. Have fun figuring out all the shit,” I remark, standing up and walking towards the door. “Let me know when you’re done and I’ll pull the specs.” I leave before she can reply.
I head back to my office hoping Bud and his spineless self have vacated the area. For a man who is supposed to be over all of us on the team, be a leader, he fails at almost everything. I can’t even say anything to Hunter because I’m still low on the totem pole so to speak.
I round the corner to my office and see an unfamiliar face standing near my desk. “Who the fuck are you?”
The guy I now recognize as Chad Adam’s crew chief turns and smiles. I immediately want to throw up. “Good afternoon to you as well.”
“Cut the pleasantries. What are you doing in my office?” I step behind my desk and take a quick survey of the items I’d left. Up until now, I never worried about my stuff, especially in my own office. Yet, this guy doesn’t sit well with me.
“Bud said I could come and discuss the specs of the car.” He takes a seat in the chair opposite mine.
I shrug. “Sorry, not much to report, nor would I share that information with you.”
“We’re teammates, you kinda have to.” He smirks again.
I shake my head. “I really don’t have to do anything. And there’s nothing to share yet anyway. I do have a question though…”
“What’s that?” he responds.
