Page 26

Cringing, I reached for the spare tear-offs on the counter and attempted to leave without hearing anything else. Unfortunately for me, I dropped them on the floor and Tommy stepped on them. Smiling at me, he shook his head. Fucker wasn’t going to lift his foot for me.
“Get off them,” I snapped, trying to shove him back with one hand.
He didn’t budge. “I can’t. My foot is stuck.”
“The fuck it is.” I scowled. “Move it or I’m going to break it.”
Zac nudged Tommy with his elbow, still concerned about his one-night stand. “He shoved his coconuts up his ass, or actual coconuts? I’m confused.”
Tommy stared at me as he spoke, like he fucking knew this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to hear. “Yeah,hiscoconuts. Right on up there like it was some kind of kangaroo pouch.”
I glanced at Zac, who was now putting the shocks on the dyno. I didn’t know what possessed me to do this, but I asked, “Why are you watching gay porn?”
“You can learn a lot from gay porn.” Lifting his foot from the tear-offs, he crossed his arm over his chest. “I usually just watch chick on chick, but sometimes they come up. You can’t turn it off. It’s a waste of good airtime.”
Speechless, I ripped the tear-offs up and rushed out of the hauler, only to run into Jameson unzipping his racing suit. “What are those fools doing?”
“Talking about gay porn.”
Pulling his arms from the racing suit, he tied it off around his waist. It was only April, but California was unusually hot, and wearing a fire suit today was miserable. I’d thought about stripping too, but after the conversation with Tommy, I wasn’t so sure about it.
Jameson’s brow bunched together, sweat beading on his forehead. “Girl-on-girl porn?”
“Nope. Cock on cock.”
Jameson turned on his heel and practically ran the other way, me following him. He caught me near the cars and smiled. “Did you make a decision?”
“On porn?” I snorted, watching Lane and Jensen making adjustments on my car. “I’d rather not.”
For the past week, I’d been thinking about Jameson’s offer to become partners with him. I couldn’t think of a reason why I didn’t want to. “It’d be an honor to work with you,” I told him, leaning against the hauler. The metal heated my shoulder instantly. Sighing, I stared in the distance to where Arie was standing with her phone in one hand and Hudson on her hip.
“Legally we have some forms to sign. I’ll bring them by later. Alley drew them up already.”
“Sure of my answer?”
He winked. “Hopeful.”
I nodded and Jameson reached out and shook my hand. “This is a whole different world than you’re used to. Don’t hesitate to come to me. It’s a lot more than just racing.”
I knew that, or at least I’d prepared myself for it. But what I hadn’t done, was discuss it with Arie. I assumed she’d be okay with it, given it was her dad’s team, but something stirred inside me as I watched her in the pits that afternoon.
“Don’t keep this from her,” Jameson noted, seeming to know why I was watching Arie so carefully. “I’m not saying you have to ask her permission, but it’s a hell of a lot easier than asking a race wife for forgiveness.”
He certainly had a point. Lane approached me, Caden’s car idling beside us during motor heat. Beside it, Zac and Willie adjusted tire pressure as Caden sat in a trance staring out the rock screen. A low rumble vibrated my chest.
Lane leaned into me. “How’d it handle?”
I set my tear-offs down next to my helmet. On any given night, there were so many different elements that changed the way it drove. “Felt like the right rear was folding under a bit.”
He nodded, watching Jensen spray down the front of my car and the side panels with the Sure Shot sprayer. I hoped he grabbed the one with mineral oil and not brake cleaner. Casten had been using as a flame thrower earlier. “Okay, pressure’s too low. I think we had it at seven pounds.”
The night got into full swing and I didn’t have a chance to talk to Arie again. The top sixteen drivers were inverted in the heat race, which left me with a shit start to the night after snagging quick time and breaking Jameson’s track record that he held for last fifteen years with a 10.88 second lap time.
In the main event, the opening laps were slowed down by two early cautions. One for me where a new driver on the tour got into my left front and sent me into the wall.
Since there was more than halfway in the main, I was able to go to the pits with a two-minute time limit. Lane, Tommy, Willie and the rest of the JAR Racing boys got to work changing my right rear tire. “Lift it up!” I heard Lane yell as they worked to get the tires changed.
“Fifteen seconds!” an official reminded us, waving his hand at Jensen who was screwing on the wheel covers we used to keep the mud from caking up on the wheels.