Page 4 of Wrecking Boundaries (SteelTrack Racing #2)
Daytona International Speedway
Daytona Beach is gray. The granite sky, set off by silver clouds, does not reflect my mood.
Call me Race Car Driver Sunshine because rainbows are coming out of my ass today.
I check the time on my phone; like magic, it rings, and I grin at the image that pops up. “Mom! You were supposed to call yesterday.”
Her smile is heard over the phone line. “Well, there you are, honey. I missed seeing you practice on the television. I hoped for a glimpse of your handsome face.” If I were present, she would squeeze my cheek. Years ago, my father claimed I inherited his looks and her disposition. My hair and eye color come from Julia Knowles, so I sometimes wonder what that means. I would ask, except the opportunity ended when I was still in my teens.
“The fun comes tomorrow when I win. You’ll see me then.” I glance around the hauler in case someone entered without me noticing. It’s rare to find it empty during a racing weekend. “How are Jess and Josie?”
We all share the same first letter in our names. I was born seven months after their wedding and named by my father. He carried the tradition forward for the next three kids, and my mother did the same for my youngest sister, Josephine, knowing it was what he would have wanted.
“Out with friends. They’ll be watching with me,” Mom says and hesitates. “Josie had her latest dentist appointment yesterday. She needs braces.”
“That’s not a problem. Can you ask them to send me the bill?" Once, this news would have frightened us.
“It’s already done. I didn’t want you to be surprised, that’s all. You do enough for us,” Mom says. The guilt is back in her voice.
“I barely do anything,” I say back. Sending money home is necessary, but it isn’t the same experience as being there. “Miss you guys.”
“You talked to your boss yet?”
I take another glance. She’s known about my long-term plans from my first Cup race, but this is the first time I was ready to share more. Naturally, she’s rooting for me, like any good parent, partly because she doesn’t understand how complicated this could be. There are decent odds it will stay a dream for years. “Not yet, soon though. This is my contract’s last season, and I want a couple more strong finishes before saying anything. You’ll be the first one I tell, promise.”
“Well, if you need me to come down there and give him a good talking-to, I will,” she says. Spoken just like a mom.
I chuckle because the image is funny. Gray streaks her blond hair. Despite this, she still keeps it long and in loose pigtails. She also tie-dyes most of her clothes. The idea of Julia Knowles marching into Bert Deere’s office to demand he make all her son’s dreams come true is hilarious. Knowing that she was able to help her son would please her.
“Don’t you worry; I’ll tell him how it goes. You and Dad raised me right,” I say.
The line goes silent at his mention. My parents did a great job raising me and sacrificed themselves so much that it cost their five kids a father and her a husband. The problem is, my mother doesn’t see it the way I do. My childhood, such as it was, ended the day my father died, although I didn’t understand what that meant until the funeral was over and the notices of unpaid bills started coming in the mail. To this day, Julia Knowles believes she failed when I needed her most, and I’ve given up trying to convince her otherwise.
“Bert isn’t flying in until tomorrow morning, so I’ll catch him then,” I say to fill the dead space on the line. It doesn’t matter either way since I’m not dumb enough to approach Bert before the season opener. It’s asking for the entire cookie jar before starting anything on the chore list.
“Have you met your new rookie yet? I saw them interviewing him,” she says next, relieved by the change in conversation.
I follow her lead because I feel the same way. “We met. Younger than me by a few years. Friendly, I guess.” We met once at headquarters while preparing for the new season. He was polite, but otherwise, I couldn’t tell you a damned thing. My attention has been elsewhere.
“Well, watch out. Watch your back,” Julia warns. “You’re the big thing, and you’ll want to keep it that way.”
I roll my eyes but keep my voice serious. It’s her job to worry about her only son, right? “We field four drivers, and I’m the best, especially with Aaron’s retirement.”
“You are, and I’m so proud. You were always going to be there.”
We exchange goodbyes, and I hang up. Still alone, I fish through the hauler’s fridge, hoping to find something decent.
My effort is a failure. “Seltzer water. Really?” I make sure to add an extra whine to my voice because it’s watermelon-flavored. Gross.
“That’s supposed to be for me, I think,” says a voice from the hauler’s entrance. “Looks like they put it in the wrong trailer. I can take it off your hands. ”
“Joey, it is yours.” I pass over the unopened can with a slight flourish, and he takes it. “How’s your new season opener going?”
Joey Fisher is our team’s newest driver and the rookie my mother referred to only a moment ago. I realize he resembles me some. His hair is a dirtier brown, and he’s an inch or two shorter, but otherwise, we have the same build and eye color.
If we were in a bad movie plot, this would be the scene where I tell him he reminds me of me at his age. Yeah, screw that. He’s a couple of years younger, at most. Also, I’m more charming and have cultivated a several years-long relationship with Bert. He lacks both.
“It’s…” Joey fades off and sighs. “It’s going. It’s best to ask me that tomorrow.” He shakes his head before turning it into a nod. “You know, I thought this would never happen after years of dirt track and scrambling for a spot in the truck series.”
“I’ve been there,” I say with understanding. “Many of us have.”
He squints. “Oh, I know it. I kept watching others get it and telling myself it would be my turn someday. I practically offered every owner my firstborn at one point. I would have married their daughters. Hell, I came damn close to trying. Would have if it worked.”
We both chuckle. “That might have been a bit much.”
“Yeah, I figured that out. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’ll be sick tomorrow.”
“Do that before you get in the car.” The poor guy is a nervous wreck, and I get it. During my rookie season, I kept thinking about how much my parents gave up to get me so far. If I failed, it wasn’t only me; my entire family would deal with the fallout. We couldn’t afford that. “Don’t wreck, and you’ll do fine. That’s the first rule. ”
He relaxes, and a smile breaks out. “Nah, I’m hoping to take home a win already. Great start to the season.”
Bit of a cocky attitude before you get even a single lap under you, eh?
“I had the same plan,” I say, returning the smile. Rookies should concentrate on developing their skills and proving they have what it takes. Planning to win your first race is an excellent way to fuck up. “I’ll keep another cold one for you when it’s done.” I indicate his still unopened can of seltzer.
“Oh, before I forget, have you seen Bert anywhere? I remember him saying he would be here,” Joey says.
Bert is one-half of BP Racing , or BPR, as we call it. He’s also the louder half, as his silent partner allows him to handle more of the day-to-day management. Bert has lived his entire life in motorsports. I expect he’ll die in it, too.
“He usually doesn’t arrive until morning,” I tell Joey. “Early. You’ll find him traveling through the trucks.”
“So nervous that I’m making things up. Well, thanks for the drink.” Joey nods goodbye and leaves.
“What did he want?” Derek asks only a few seconds later.
Derek Jones is my spotter and plays as significant a role in my success as anything I do. He is also my closest friend.
“He tried sizing me up. Announce his presence. Make like Babe Ruth and point at center field.” I shrug and wave my hand. The kid is eager to prove himself; I get it. He’s also not my problem. My ambitions are much bigger than some fake rivalry with a rookie teammate. “He’s welcome to try. I’m not worried, and I’m done thinking about him.”
“Does this mean we’re picking fights with Boone Rivers for the entire season or going with something new?”
My smile is cocky. My favorite rival is easily irritated, making it all the more enjoyable. “He’s as popular as I am. We’re frenemies.”
“Dude, you’re just enemies, and if you ever use that word in my presence again, I’ll quit.”
I sit in one of the nearby office chairs and spin it around. “Have you seen Bert today?”
Derek plops down beside me and leans forward. “He never gets here on Saturdays. No reason to expect any different now.”
“That’s what I figured,” I say with some relief. The rookie strongly hinted at a private conversation between them, which isn’t a big deal. If you drive long enough, you’ll get private talks with the team owner. The strange thing is, the kid wanted me to know it.
“Are you still interested in that girl of yours?” Derek asks casually, like he wonders what sort of topping I put on my pizza. “I have some news.”
“Sarah?” I verify, and he nods. That’s good; she’s ignored my texts since we stayed in her little cabin in the woods. “You find her trailer?”
“I did you one better.” He leans back and pulls the phone out of his front pocket. “She’s staying in a nearby hotel.”
“Makes sense. She probably doesn’t want to spend time with the lovebirds,” I say. “Would you happen to know which one?”
“Jake, I have the room number.” Derek flips his phone, and a grainy picture appears. “Room 352. Right across the street.”
I forget all about the rookie because my night is about to be a lot more exciting. I pictured an old movie and an early night in my trailer. It looks like I’ll make a surprise appearance at her door instead. I bite my lip and smile.
“She didn’t see you?” Derek is my spotter, and Sarah knows we are close.
“What do you think? ”
“I think I’m buying you dinner next week. Maybe some flowers and a box of chocolates.”
“Dude. Don’t do that either.”
Sarah insisted she wouldn’t be in Daytona for the season opener. If she’s here for this race, I bet she’ll be around for the next one.
A fun evening with the girl who doesn’t know she’s mine yet and a season-opening win?
Not a bad weekend.