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Saint
Saturday - August 6
“The car passed inspection. Haisley qualified ninth, and the officials agreed to lock the car in a special area with no access to it, even to us, prior to the race,” I reiterate to Neil and Mac.
“Do you really think Bud and Drake had something to do with it?” Neil questions.
“I do. Who else? Drake’s been claiming she owes him, and Bud’s an asshole. If she’s out the season, Hunter must bring in a driver or he forfeits all the money. They both have a motive; I just need to know the exact motive,” I tell him as we finish the appetizers we ordered.
“Any luck on the video from Ohio?” Neil asks Mac.
Mac nods. “Yes, should get it soon.”
I turn to him. “Did your guy say if there was anything on it?”
“He said we’d be surprised at what it caught, so I am figuring that means we’ll have proof to get Bud fired,” Mac answers.
“Good. If it was done and on camera, why didn’t the officials check the camera?” Neil wants to know.
I shrug. “I’m not sure, but Bud and Drake looked confident when they saw who the officials were. I’m sure there is more to this than we realize.”
“What an asshole,” Mac mutters under his breath, nudging me to look at the door.
I turn my view to where he’s pointing and see Drake and Bud enter the bar. I immediately shield our faces with the menus, to be sure that they don’t see us. I pull my phone out and take a few photos, just in case.
“Think those will come in handy?” Mac asks.
“They might, just proves to me that there is more at play then we realize.”
***
Sunday - August 7
“Come on, Haisley, push it. You can do it. You are in third. Keep Johnson in your mirrors,” I coach her on the radio. Eric is doing a great job at spotting her. Bud hasn’t said much, which is fine.
“Saint, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold him off,” she radios back.
“Focus on the track, hit your marks. You have a four second lead on him. We are three laps from the finish; you’ve got this.”
Eric’s voice breaks through. “Haisley, I need you to go low into the corner. Adams spun out and is currently heading up on the corner. To avoid him stay low.”
I can see her speed start to lower, and if I know her, she’s starting to panic. “Haisley, focus on your breathing. Listen to Eric. You’ve got this.”
I watch the monitors, which display her area on the track compared to the other drivers. One of them has the camera angles from the broadcast. The Nashville Street Race is a very different beast than most of the other street courses. The start and finish lines are at different areas, pit road is nowhere near either, and the turns are vicious after the cars cross the bridge, circle back, and return over the bridge again.
“You’ve got this, Haisley. Two laps to go. You are now in second place. You can do this,” I encourage her.
Bud snickers to the side of me, and I shoot him a dirty look. He can go fuck himself because I can’t wait to take his ass for a ride. I look over her gauges, as Eric continues to guide her through the corners.
“Final lap,” I tell her. “Continue what you are doing. You’re doing great.”
Mac and Neil are below me, and the entire team is holding their breaths watching the monitors. We watch as she makes her way effortlessly through the final turns approaching the finish line.
I jump off the pit box and meet Mac and Neil at the bottom. “She fucking did it! She did it!” I yell high-fiving them as the crew hugs each other. “Second place, baby!”
We jump the pit box as we wait for her to bring the car in to us. The media reporters are already waiting to interview her. When she kills the engine and jumps out of the car, I run to her and pick her up, twirling her in a circle.
“Fucking amazing! You did it! Your best finish of the year!”
