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“Funny way of showing it.”
“Well, it was your words to keep this all on the quiet side, wasn’t it?” he reminds me.
“It was mutual. He’s been a bear since we flew out Thursday night.”
“Let’s discuss this later. Right now, you need to focus on the track and let him know what you need. If you’re not focused, you’re going to get hurt, and he’s not going to be able to handle that. So, focus please, and everything will work out the way it needs to,” he instructs me as I put on my helmet and glance up to the pit box. Bud is up there, but there is no Saint.
“Okay. I’ll focus. Do you know if he’s going to be listening?”
“He always does,” Mac states as he motions for me to get into the car. I climb in, and he fastens my harness. “Go get ‘em.”
I give him a thumbs up and hear Bud on the radio. “Come on, princess, let’s get a move on it.”
I shake my head and pull out onto the course. This is a course that I haven’t had the pleasure of racing before. The exit of pit lane puts us right into turn two, which dumps us on the first long straightaway before turns three, four, five, and six, which is the easiest of the turns before we hit another small straightaway to turns nine through twelve, which resemble a U-shape. It’s not a fun back part of the track at all.
I’m making my way through the U—slower than I wanted and slower than most of the competitors here. Bud is mumbling something on the radio that I ignore as Eric guides me through the last of the turns before the front stretch.
I hit the throttle past the start/finish line and dive into turn two. One of the reasons I love racing is that you have to clear your mind. You have to make sure you’re only focused on the track in front of you and nothing else because the slightest distraction can cost you the race or your life. Racing allows you to escape from the reality of life for even a short time.
I smile and think of Grams, who has supported me through everything in my life. She would want me focused on the track, on proving everyone wrong. So that’s what I do. I focus on the track. I focus on the turns and how the car feels.
“I’m tight in the back turns,” I radio in. “Straightaways are good. I feel like the car has a good balance there. The braking zones are where we need to find some traction.”
“Very well,” I hear Saint over the radio. “Bring it in on the next lap. We need to work fast before qualifying.”
“Roger that,” I reply as I come out of turn thirteen and head for pit road. I press the pit road button and the engine slows to pit road speed. I pull into the box and kill the engine. Mac is there to greet me, and I notice Saint on the pit box.
“Told you he’d be fine,” he whispers to me, and I nod.
“Sure. He sounds peachy,” I blurt out. “I'm going to the hauler. No sense in me heading to the RV since qualifying is in an hour.” I hand him my helmet and walk through pit road to the garage area and the hauler.
The team is pushing the car into the garage bay as I walk past. I’m just about at the hauler when I see Drake looking around. I roll my eyes, not wanting to deal with anymore shit today.
“What do you think you are doing? Isn’t your driver on the fucking track?” I ask him as I cross my arms over my chest.
He smiles that cocky smile of his. “Well, well, well, princess. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“What does that mean?” I question, not moving from my position. “Why are you sniffing around my hauler?”
“I’m entitled to be around here,” he sneers.
“Don’t think you are. So, please leave before I call security and have you removed.”
Drake marches up to me and places his face in front of mine. “You’re playing with fire, missy. I told you that I would get what is due to me, one way or another.”
I slap him across the face before I even have time to think about it. “You are owed nothing. Nothing at all. I’m not sure what you think you are entitled to, but you are nothing more than a cheating dirtbag.” I step around him and head to the hauler. As I move, he grabs my arm and spins me around, slamming me against the exterior door.
“I’m not done with you,” he growls as he pins my hands at my side. “You owe me your life, you little bitch.”
I turn my face away from his at the same time he is ripped away from me, causing me to fall to the ground. I look up and see Saint gripping him by his shirt, his fist cocked and ready to fight. Mac runs toward us as I jump up and pull on Saint’s arm.
“Don’t do it,” I warn him. “He’s not worth you getting suspended or fired,” I plead.
“He’s a dead man. He was hurting you; I’m sure the witnesses will step up,” Saint replies, his eyes never leaving Drake.
Mac finally steps in and pulls Saint off Drake, who stands up and laughs. “You’re fucking dead,” he threatens Saint. “I’m going to have your job.”
“Fucking try,” Saint spits back as Mac tries to calm him down. I look behind us and notice the crowd forming; Bud is standing there watching. Mac pulls Saint away to calm him, and I notice Drake walk past Bud, who gives him a thumbs up.
