Page 38 of Racing Heat

“Most woman do. Now please go away,” I reply.

She opens and closes her mouth like she can’t quite figure out what to say.

“You can leave now,” I tell her again.

“Fuck off, prick,” she says before shooting me the finger.

August and I burst out laughing, while Danny’s quietly seething. His eyes remain on the table, his shoulders slumped and his genuine smile from earlier gone.

August notices immediately. “I’m so fucking sorry, bro.”

We both know how much he hates being reminded of his father. It’s something I noticed about Danny the first time I met him. He didn’t want to live in his father’s shadow, and that’s not a relationship that’s on good terms. We’ll never see the man at the Blaze stadium cheering on Mac. In fact, he doesn’t even want to meet her, from what I’ve gathered from the few comments Danny has made about his father.

The shots come back, and August immediately adds another round to our tab.

“Come on, man,” I say. “We have a game coming up and I have to get Hendrix ready for it.”

“What’s wrong with Hendrix?” Danny asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. She’s good. But she’s worried about the high kicks Kansas City can shoot. I think she’ll be fine, if she comes out far enough and cuts the angle, but she’s all in her head.”

“That woman scares me a bit,” August adds. “She always looks at him like she wants to level me.”

“She probably does. She does to half the population,” Danny says with a chuckle, spinning the empty shot glass in his fingers. “Don’t you two go way back or something?”

August bobs his head. “Yeah, I’ve known her for a while.”

“Any tips on getting her out of her head?” I ask.

August chokes on air and pats his chest, attempting to get whatever went down the wrong way out. “Why would I have any tips on working with her?”

I shrug. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Why are you being weird?” Danny asks him.

The waitress shows up with more shots, and August is able to avoid the question. I make a mental note to talk with him more about that once he’s good and drunk.

That opportunity never comes, though. August manages to order another round of shots, and I can barely stand with all the alcohol coursing throughout my body right now.

“I need some fucking water,” I tell the boys.

August nods, bobbing his head slightly to the beat. “Do you think we should go dance with those women over there?” He points to a group of scantily clad women who look like they’re all freshly twenty-one.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Danny slurs. “I think I should try to get home to my girlfriend before she fucking disowns me.”

“This might be why she hates it when you go out with me.” August laughs.

I scoff. “I think that’s probably because you usually have bad ideas about dancing with women who are barely legal. She’s worried you’re going to get him into some serious trouble.”

“I’m a good boy,” Danny slurs.

“Sure, you are. Now get your ass home to your woman before things get weird.”

“I already called her,” Danny tells me.

“Good call.”

“She’s coming down here?” August asks. “Does she have any friends who aren’t players who she can bring?” August slurs his words so terribly that I doubt he even has the strength to seduce a woman.