AllFreeNovel
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Saint:You’ll see me in about twelve hours.
Me:Only if sexy times are on the docket...
Saint:I haven’t had a chance to have my hands on your body in days. You bet your ass, you’re going to be naked and withering tonight, begging for me to let you come.
Me:You really can’t say things like that as I’m about to entertain children...
Saint:[image of his half naked body]
Me:Now you’re playing dirty, Mr. Matthews.
Saint:[devil face emoji]
Me:I’ll call you after the race.
Saint:Be safe, trust your instincts.
Me:[heart emoji]
I lock my phone and hand it off to Elle. She places it in her bag, and we slip into entertainment mode. Elle snaps pictures; I sign autographs until introductions.
The group is at the car when I return for the national anthem. The kids are standing on either side of me, my crew behind me as we listen to the ode. I’m used to having Saint standing directly behind me, but today it’s Neil. I offer him a quick smile as we are instructed to get in the cars.
I say goodbye to our guests, which leave with Elle. Children aren’t allowed on pit road when the track is hot, so Elle managed to get them VIP seats in the VIP tower.
I grab my helmet from Mac and hop into the car. Mac secures my harness, and I flash him the thumbs up. Eric starts radio checks. Bud offers a monologue without any encouragement.
I slip into work mode. I know this track, and the car felt good during practice. I usually enjoy road courses, but the last time I ran here was in the Xfinity series two years ago. Different cars, different handling.
We take the two caution laps before lining up for the green flag. I have Eric guiding me to the start lengths and open the throttle as soon as I’m able to. The pack jets off, all fighting for position into the first turn. Turns one and three are awkward, whereas turns five through ten are the turns that make or break the cars. Lots of traction issues throughout that area, but the back of the course isn’t so bad and offers a lot of passing chances.
I settle into the rhythm of the car, the turns, and the track. Eric is spotting me, and I let all the worries settle into the back of my mind. The first caution comes out around lap ten, with another rookie crashing into the barriers in turn eight.
“I think we should pit,” I call into the com.
“You’re fine. Strategy is lap fifteen,” Bud calls into my ear.
“I disagree. I’m still losing traction and timing in the corners. I’m coming in,” I tell him as I pull off on to pit road with the leaders. I stop in the pit box, and the boys go to work with a tire change and fuel refill. I hit the reset button and fire the engine as soon as I see the all-clear signal.
“That was stupid move, girl,” Bud barks into the radio.
“I’m the driver, not you,” I snap back. “I wanted tires and look, we gained a few spots.” Two to be exact, placing us in eighth on the restart.
The race goes on and on. Cautions. Green flag runs. Two and a half hours of the same track, fifty-five laps, two hundred miles, and we’re able to pull out a top twenty finish after spinning out on the second to last lap.
I pull the car into the pit stall and unfasten my harness. I jump out and toss my helmet to Mac. The plan was to start yelling and accusing Saint of messing with something, but he’s not here. So, Bud was the next target. “You fucking changed something,” I yell as him as I reach our pit box. “The tires were off. Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I accuse him, throwing false claims his way. The spin out was part of the plan. Just wish we didn’t lose that many spots.
“I did nothing of the sort,” he spits back at me. “Go calm your hormones.” Bud dismisses me in front of the other race teams and in front of the media. BINGO! I start to walk back to the car to grab my helmet, and I am stopped by reporters.
“What happened out there? You were slated in tenth?” some woman asks.
I shrug my shoulders, putting on the act. “I’m not quite sure. We were running fine all race. Then after that last pit stop, the tires just didn’t feel right. We spun out coming out of turn ten. We just couldn’t drive up quick enough,” I tell her.
“What are your plans for Ohio in a couple of weeks?” another reporter asks.
I shrug again. “Plan is just to do the best we can. We have a solid car for that track, so I’m optimistic that we can gain at least a top ten finish.”
Another reporter. “How did the suspension of your car chief affect the weekend?”
