Page 9 of Wrecking Boundaries (SteelTrack Racing #2)

Phoenix Raceway

A third-place finish in Vegas last week and the second pole this week. I’m back to shooting rainbows out of my ass.

Metaphorically speaking.

Martin: Goals give you purpose. I’m saving to buy a house—something to renovate and make my own.

Sarah: My brother is like that with cars.

Martin: Cars are functional more than fun. It’s always interesting to hear about your older brother.

A dating site’s alter ego is unethical and cowardly unless it works, and then it’s pure genius and rare creativity.

Sarah: Because you’re the oldest?

Martin: Oldest of several.

Staying honest makes it easier to follow conversation threads. I also want Sarah to respond to the real me as much as possible. My secret identity led me to call her for help, which is a significant first step in her new job career. What is more meaningful than helping me?

“Is Bert around?” I ask Joey, who is leaning against one side of the hauler. The team owner rarely arrives until race day, but Derek mentioned a pit crew member seeing him. “Do you know why he is here?”

Joey sips from his can of seltzer water. I don’t get it. The stuff tastes like a watermelon and a tin can hugged. It’s one of those side hugs where you barely even touch. The brand isn’t even one of our sponsors.

“He’s up there,” Joey indicates the hauler behind him. “He’s talking with the big boss man. It got loud, but not loud enough to understand what he was saying.”

I lean towards the truck but hear only silence. “Bert gets loud. Big personalities can sometimes overflow to the people around them.”

Robert Deere has spent his entire career in motorsports, winning two Cup championships nearly thirty years ago. After that, his career switched from driver to owner, and he’s as much an institution as Tom Rivers, Sarah’s father.

“He bear-hugged me back in Atlanta.” Joey finished sixth, not bad for a rookie’s second race. “You’ve been having a tough season so far, haven’t you?” he asks, the question sounding deliberate. The kid wants to irritate me.

I flash a smile, the one that led Boone Rivers to call me surfer boy. “The season has barely started. There’s a lot of racing, a ton of laps, and more points than you can count. You need to manage it all. I’ll bet your pit chief has taught you a lot.”

You pathetic dick.

“You’re right,” Joey says. His cheeks turn pink. “The points system is tough to understand. Well, I’m sure the season will improve. Like you say, a lot of racing remains.”

Joey tosses his empty can on the ground and leaves.

What the fuck was that? The kid’s confidence has always been over the top, but it hasn’t approached complete asshole territory until now.

I enter the hauler, grateful for the sudden blast of cold air hitting me. Bert notices and beckons me to take the office chair next to him. He usually has a ruddy complexion, but today, he reminds me of a sweating tomato. The stains on his armpits are incredibly obvious.

“Look here, Pierce, this whole thing is damn foolishness.” Bert’s face turns from red to crimson. “Well, give it more thought, and you’ll see I’m right. Foolishness will lead you head first into the deep end of a rocky river. It might be nice and cool, but your head will get smashed in.”

Is that made up? It sounds made up.

Pierce Boylan is the other half of BP Racing . He owns an extensive network of car dealerships, a couple of restaurant chains, part of a tech company, and more. Motorsports is supposed to be his passion project. He shows up every few races to mix with other notable guests and monitor our performance.

Their conversation ends, and Bert slams his phone on the desk. He leans back, resting his head in his hands. It doesn’t help the sweat stains.

“That was heated,” I say. It’s possible he’ll share some gossip.

No such luck. Bert waves his hand. “Strong personalities lead to strong words.”

That is also made up.

“So true,” I lie and smile big. “It’s good to see you out here early. Is there any special reason?”

“Nothing special, Jake. I miss driving sometimes, do you know that? You’ll feel the same when it’s your turn. You need a new purpose once your racing days are done, or you’ll fade away.” Bert’s face creeps back into its usual pink tones the longer he talks. “I became an owner, while some drivers never visit another race track. Don’t do that, Jake. When your time comes, find something, will you?”

“Sure. Absolutely,” I say because I’m unsure of the correct response. His statement is depressing. “You’ll be here a long time, Bert. You’re one of the greats.”

He sighs. “I’m sure you’re right. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing at all. I heard you’re here, and I wanted to personally welcome you to Phoenix, known for its dry heat.”

Bert visibly relaxes. “That it is. We need another fan in here.”

I say goodbye and leave. The visit was a complete bust. This season is the end of my contract. Sarah promised to help with that and my other ambitions. I believe her, but I also know it won’t be easy. There’s no need to panic, but talk about my contract has been strangely quiet.

First, a rookie tried to give me performance anxiety, and now my boss wants to leave me dangling in the wind. Worse, his relief when I demurred was undeniable. We’ve been together my entire career, and he’s always been honest with me. Bert was also a great support when my family needed it, a favor I can never repay.

Am I really that bad?

Fuck no. Rainbows out of my ass.

∞∞∞

“ You need to stock microwave popcorn in this place,” Derek says when I climb into the RV. “What else do you eat during a movie?”

“Literally anything,” I say, taking in him stretched on the RV’s sofa, dirty feet on the table. “Make yourself at home. Can I cook you dinner or rub your feet?”

“If you’re offering. ”

“There’s a can of soup that expired a year ago. Help yourself,” I say, and Derek chuckles. “Pierce Boylan hasn’t been to a race this season. Do you think that’s strange?”

Derek turns down the volume to give me his full attention. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t come to every race, although now that you mention it, he hasn’t been to headquarters either. Why are you asking?”

I relay my brief visit with Bert.

“Bert was a Bloody Mary in a past life,” he says. “His yelling could be nothing, or it could be huge. Should we be worried?”

I’m being ridiculous. I worry so much about future plans that it’s making me see problems that don’t exist. “No, nothing like that. Two bad races are making me paranoid.”

Despite my earlier comment, I make a turkey sandwich for both of us. Some drivers go out the Saturday night before racing or join one of the nearby parties. I’ve done none of that since first meeting Sarah. Usually, I’m in bed before ten.

I quickly answer my phone when it rings. “Hey, Mom. I’m sorry. I meant to call you earlier.”

“Mom said I can’t get a part-time job,” a shrill voice says. “It’s not fair.”

“Hi, Josie,” I say, correcting myself. Derek glances at me and goes back to the movie. “What job?”

“I applied for a job at the mall, and Mom said I can’t do it,” she says.

Josie is my youngest sister, still in her teens, with two years of high school left.

“Did she say why?”

“My grades,” Josie says. She’s determined to express her opinion on the matter. “It’s not fair.”

She almost flunked the previous school year. “You need to concentrate on school. Improve your grades and then get a job. Those are the rules.”

“You had a job. They let you race cars, even when you were flunking.”

I wasn’t that horrible a student. “That was different,” I say, failing to summon a better response. Racing meant money, and we needed that more than we needed me on the honor roll.

“It’s exactly the same. You got to make a ton of money, while my allowance is barely enough to go out with friends.”

I sigh into the phone. Josie was too young to remember those days. I focused on my career because we needed the money. My father died to give all this to me, and the entire family paid the price. “I’ll talk to Mom tomorrow. Maybe there is a compromise. Either way, I’ll double your allowance. Time with friends is important.”

Josie hangs up after muttering a quick thanks.

“Still playing parent, huh?” Derek asks.

I’m the closest to a father they’ll ever have. “Family is important to me.”

Derek doesn’t push, and we return to the movie, but I don’t pay any attention.

I took the second pole, which will put me in the first row tomorrow. It’s fantastic news, and it doesn’t matter. I pick up my phone, planning to bring out my alter ego.

Jake: Are you in your room? I want to see you.

Sarah: Why? This feels suspicious.

Jake: No hidden motive, promise. Can I come over?

Sarah: …

Jake: It was a bad day, and you’re the only person I’m comfortable talking to.

Sarah: Room 322, end of the hall .

Jake: Be there in ten minutes.

“Stay as long as you want,” I say and stand. “Be back in the morning.”

“Hooking up with the little sister again?” Derek barely glances at me. “It’s going to blow up in your face, big time. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

My confident smile makes clear how much I intend to. “I have a plan, and it’s not hooking up. It’s serious.”

“I’m sure it is. Every woman’s idea of the perfect man is a fake guy who communicates via DM.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I shoot back. “My plan is working perfectly.”

“How do you intend to tell her?” Derek asks me.

Telling him about the dating profile was a horrible decision. “I won’t because there’s no reason. It’s low-pressure and gives me insight. I’ll end it in another week or two.”

He doesn’t respond.

∞∞∞

“No funny business,” Sarah says before the door has time to open.

“You look amazing,” I say back.

She’s wearing a tank top and boy shorts, which gives me a magnificent view. Her still-damp hair tells me she was in the shower not that long ago. Another Marilyn Monroe comparison comes to mind, but I hold back, remembering Sarah’s reaction the last time.

“First warning.”

“A sincere compliment isn’t a pass,” I say because it’s true. “ You’re a beautiful woman, and I want you to know that.”

Sarah arches a brow but otherwise doesn’t respond. “Have you eaten?”

“Sandwiches, nothing else.”

“That’s perfect.” Sarah pulls a container out of the room’s mini fridge. “There’s room for tiramisu. There are two slices, one for each of us.”

We sit down on her bed, and I respectfully keep my distance. “This is amazing,” I say after a single bite.

Relief fills me, and it’s not from the food. Her presence is enough to relax me.

“World’s most perfect food.” She glances at me and then stares. Her expression turns serious. “Something happened today.”

“Day started great and then kept getting worse.” Surely, my turning to her is proof of something. I could return to my trailer and watch TV with Derek, but that feels empty. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”