Page 13

Danger

By the time we roll up into Indiana the next day, I’m more tired than when we woke up this morning. Monterey was right about needing aspirin.

Lucky for me, she drove the entire way, and we head right for the hotel the minute we hit town.

Even though there’s a line of fans hanging around outside the hotel lobby, I find it harder and harder to smile at them.

Monterey has no issues, and smiles, always the fucking beauty queen. She waves to the fans and reporters, and answers questions like a seasoned pro.

Word about the bar fight last night spread faster than wildfire in the brush. I keep my mouth shut, which I’m sure Luther and Monterey appreciate.

By the time we make it to our room, I crash.

And I crash hard.

Somewhere in the middle of the night I feel a hand on my chest and I try not to freak out.

I open one eye and then the other. “Mom,” I whisper, still unable to decipher reality from dream. “Mama, is that you?”

“Danger, it’s me, Monterey.”

Reality comes back to me in a rush, and all my battle scars have returned. “What are you doing?” I ask, brushing the remaining sleep from my foggy mind.

“I had a bad dream.”

Welcome to my existence.

She snuggles in closer to me on the bed, and I wrap an arm around her. “Can I sleep with you?”

I don’t know what to say and the word, “yes,” rushes out quickly. “Stay with me.” Because even though she had a bad dream on this one night...I have them every night.

And if having her in my arms quiets the demons for one night, it’s worth it.

I fall back asleep quickly, and the next morning I feel much better.

It’s weird, but it’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.

Monterey’s still passed out in the bed, and I tiptoe around the room, looking for my things. I have to meet with her father and the team in a few minutes, and I don’t want to wake her.

I’m not looking forward to my meeting with Luther after last night’s debacle, but after getting ready I head out the door of my hotel suite.

I need to face the music.

I need to step up and be a man.

“Sir,” I say, once I’ve spotted him waiting for me. “How are you?” I shake his hand and he motions for me to sit down at the table in the restaurant of the hotel.

“We’ll get some breakfast and then we’ll head out to the track.”

“I could eat.” I smile, but Luther doesn’t smile back. And I know it’s because of the mess I made last night. “Listen,” I begin, trying to get ahead of his anger, “I know I fucked up last night. And I’ve been fucking up all season, but I promise you, I’m on board.”

The waitress interrupts and we order. Once we’re done, Luther stares at me for a moment while he puts sugar and cream in his coffee.

“When I was fifteen, I was taught how to drive by my father. My father was one of the greats in the sport. He could do it all.”

I smile. “Yeah my father didn’t want much to do with me.”

Luther smiles, brushing off my remark like it’s the most insane thing in the world. What man wouldn’t want to raise his own son?

Mine, that’s who.

But, I listen as Luther tells me about how he grew to fame. How his accident took away his ability to ever drive again. How he wanted to have a team, and still be heavily involved in the sport he loved so much.

“What do you love?” he asks me.

“Love?” I laugh a bit nervously, knowing he won’t like the answer of nothing too much. “I don’t really love just one thing. Maybe I like a lot of little things a whole lot.”

“Nonsense. You have to love something in this world, Danger. You have to have that drive, that passion, for something, or else life just isn’t worth fighting for.”

I lean back in my chair, wondering to myself if I’ve ever loved anything in this world enough to fight for. I have a real love for Kav. He saved me from something fierce. If it had not been for him, I’d be dead. No doubt about it. “Racing.” I give him the answer I know he’s looking for, but if I’m telling the truth, I don’t love it enough to fight for it.

Don’t get me wrong. Racing is great. Racing has given me a life. A purpose. As soon as I win this tour and get the money, I don’t know what the future has in store for me. Will I keep racing? Probably.

I still don’t know.

Luther laughs. “Well, if you love racing as much as you say you do,” he butters a piece of toast and then points it at me, “you’d better not be fucking up your chance here.”

I can read between the lines very well. This is his final warning to me. “Yes, sir.” The little charade with his daughter needs to convince the public I’ve changed. I need to want this more than I’ve been wanting it.

And make no mistake. I fucking want this.

* * *

I grew up in a small house. Four walls, a few bedrooms in the back, and a roof that sometimes leaked on the rare occasion it rained.

I had a few friends from school, but they never came over. No, they weren’t allowed. We’d play outside mostly. On our bikes. Tag. Racing with whatever we could find with wheels.

At night, I used to hang in my room, praying sleep would come before my monster of a father would come home.

Drunk, like always. Looking to pick a fight because his own wreck of a life didn’t go the way he’d planned. And those were the good nights.

The bad nights I try not to think about.

Some nights, when it was cool out, my mother would sneak into my room to see if I was awake. Together we’d crawl up to the roof from my bedroom window, and we’d count all the stars in the sky.

“Make a wish on that one right there at the tip of your nose. And it’ll come true,” she’d always tell me.

When I was really young, before I knew about the madness of my life, I’d wish for silly things. A football. A new video game. A new pair of shoes like the other boys at school wore. But, as I grew older my wishes morphed into something more. Something meaningful.

No longer did I wish for things any boy my age would want. No, I’d wish for more. I’d wish for normalcy.

I’d wish for someone to take me away from here.

I’d wish for the attention of a father who’d never shown any toward me in his entire life.

But, none of my wishes ever came true.

When I left that home, I realized it was never really my home at all. No, the track is the only home I have now.

Because when I’m out here it’s like I belong here.

The stands are empty as I walk out onto the asphalt to get a feel for the race happening tomorrow.

“Danger, what’s up,” Crank, my pit crew manager, says, shaking my hand before he returns back to the car I’ll be racing. “I installed a new barge board. Should be better than the last one.”

“Thanks, man.” I run my hand over the red paint of the car. “Anything else I need to know?”

Crank smiles, showcasing his straight white teeth, shaking his head. His brown eyes stare back at me. “Nah, I think you can take her out to get a good feel for her.”

“Remember this is a test run,” Luther says, handing me my helmet. “No need to wear her out so soon.”

It’s weird, but I feel like the one thing I don’t need is a warning. I’m not a kid anymore. I glance across the track and see Monterey walking toward us, her red sundress dancing around her legs with each step.

It draws my eyes to those long, tanned legs. Those legs I’d love to dive between, make a nest there and call that place home. Now that would be the type of home I could get used to.

I push away the thoughts as she draws closer, bending over to give her dad a hug and then turning to me. “Hey,” she breathes out, like she might actually be happy to see me.

“Hey.”

She gives me an awkward hug, only awkward because of all the eyes on us.

My whole pit crew watches as she laughs a tiny laugh before releasing me from her grip.

A small little laugh that just made my dick go from nothing to rock hard in an instant.

“You want to watch your man take her for a spin?” I wink.

“That’s why I’m here.” She pulls out her phone, wrapping her arm around my neck to snap a selfie. “Say cheese.”

“What are you doing?” I ask after she snaps the photo.

“Just a little something for the fans.” She winks and walks into the stands with the rest of everyone.

I hop into the cockpit of the car, letting Crank put on my helmet before installing my steering wheel. He gives my helmet a tap when everything is all clear.

And then I let loose, speeding away from him on the track. I sail around the first corner, sticking to the inside.

There’s nothing more freeing than driving. Nothing more beautiful than taking each turn at just the right moment. A second earlier or a second later could result in death. The fact my life is in my own hands.

This is one area in my life I can control. So I revel in it. I master my own craft as I pick up the speed, weaving just a bit as if other cars are on the track.

“Doing good man. One more lap and then bring her in,” Crank says into my ear through the earpiece.

Right before I slow down to come to a stop, I let the wheel spin just a hair, and spin a complete three-sixty turn, just to show off a bit, before the car comes sliding to a halt.

“Asshole,” Crank says with a laugh into my earpiece as I remove my helmet.