My second, as I liked to call him, was Arrow.
You know the guy whose voice filled my ear when I was racing. The spotter. When I first started learning more about driving racecars (like besides on the street) the idea of anyone in my ear while I drove ticked me off.
I didn’t need some prick standing on the sidelines with a shitty view, telling me how to drive. I was in control of my car, my race. Not him.
I learned it was necessary. Guess even the stubbornest of dogs could be taught new tricks.
Or maybe I just really wanted to win.
My manager and head of my pit crew on race days technically would fill this role. He was a good guy, we got along, and he was invested in my career, so I liked him.
But he wasn’t my brother.
Trust and loyalty wasn’t something I handed out on a silver platter to anyone who smiled. It would take a lot more than working with him for several months and even traveling to tracks, interviews, and work shit to get me to want him as my eyes.
I only trusted Arrow with that.
He might not be the most experienced spotter, but that kid knew how to keep his eyes open for trouble. He learned that the hard way.
He also knew a lot about driving. I’d taught him everything I knew.
For months and months after he first moved into the hangar, that’s all we did. Drove, worked on cars, and drove some more. It was his sanctuary, his savior, and in a lot of ways, his revenge.
Because of that, he learned a lot fast, and he was a natural.
There was no one else I’d rather have on the top of my trailer today.
Currently, I was in third place.
I fucking hated third place. It was the worst place to me, and I wasn’t going to end up placing here again. Third place was lame. It denoted I wasn’t lousy enough to come in at a lower position, but not good enough to come in higher.
Second wasn’t my choice (obviously), but it was a hell of a lot better than third. At least second spoke to talent, to the potential to overtake the top at any given moment.
Basically, third place meant I, as a driver, was mediocre.
Fuck mediocre.
We were driving down the clock, there was only one lap left, and I was riding number two’s bumper like a heat rash in summer. He was gonna have to powder himself for a month after this shit was done because I was not backing down.
Not too far up was the gravel section. I could use it to my advantage. I spent one entire summer a couple years back driving on a gravel section of my turf near a lake no one ever really went to.
I was confident I could take it at an even faster speed than I had even just the lap before. Some of the guys were backing off the gas when we hit the section. I understood why; even I didn’t want to rip up my tires.
It was risky this close to the finish line. If I blew a tire (and they were already getting worn from this race), I wouldn’t be in second. I wouldn’t even be in third.
I glanced up ahead, my foot twitchy on the gas. Sometimes even when I debated a move, when I knew it was dangerous or could even backfire, my gut already knew.
I felt the decision long before I made it. It made my foot happy on the gas.
Clearly, I already knew what I was going to do today. Sometimes you just had to go balls to the wall and do it.
Forrester was holding steady in the top spot. I hated looking at that guy’s taillights. I hated even more knowing he was a damn good driver.
Maybe that’s why coming in second wasn’t as fucking embarrassing as it should be.
I’d never admit it out loud, but I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing Forrester win the first NRR championship. That didn’t mean I was going to hand it to him, though. Hell no. If I got the chance to beat him, I would take it.
“I’m gonna take the gravel at full speed, try and lap this tool on the inside and take up number two,” I said into the piece to Arrow. “How’s my blind spots looking?”
“That’s a pretty ballsy move,” came his reply.
Only it wasn’t my brother’s voice.
It was Josie.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, learning the curve of it even more precisely than ever before. I kept my eyes trained on the road even though they sorely wanted to seek her out.
Just the sound of her voice was like premium octane injected right into my heart. Even though I was starting to run a little low on adrenaline and energy stores, she was like a shot of epinephrine right to my chest.
“You got this, though. He’s getting antsy with you so far up his ass.” She went on like she had no idea what she did to me.
“Josie,” I said, putting the pressure on the guy in front of me. “I like the sound of your voice in my ear when I drive this fast.”
“Had to pry the headset off the Bieb’s head,” she quipped.
I laughed.
“All right, settle in.” Her voice changed, became a little more clipped, more serious. “I’ve been watching him a while. Like I said, he’s antsy. I don’t like the looks of his back passenger tire. He’s gonna have to slow so it doesn’t blow. But you need to be on guard in case it does. He’ll take you out, too, with you so tight against him.”
“Roger,” I said, focusing back in.
She wasn’t a distraction, maybe because I couldn’t see her in spite of knowing she was watching me. Her instructions were clear, concise, and put me in a steady state.
I trusted her.
With my life.
Not dramatic. That’s what this was sometimes, life and death. Right now, if I took a hit at this speed, my time could be over.
“Coming in hot on your blind spot, on the outside,” she warned. “Glide over, smooth, just a couple inches.”
I moved.
“That’s it.” I could hear the grin in her voice. “Way to put him in his place.”
“Gravel coming.”
“He’s gonna swing out a little. He’s gonna have to because of that tire. He can’t drift through gravel, and he can’t take that turn on the inside so sharp.”
I nodded, understanding her thought process.
“Guy behind you is a non-issue,” she said. “Get ready to punch it. I’ll tell you when the tool starts to edge over.”
I grinned even as I sat up a little straighter. If my heart pumped any faster, I’d need meds to bring it back into normal range. Doing this with her, taking this gravel, and trusting her to tell me when to punch it was like foreplay to me.
Hot fucking foreplay.
Her breathing increased. I felt her focus. My front tires met gravel.
“Go, now!” she yelled.
I pushed the gas in so much my back tires made a squealing sound on the pavement just before they transitioned into gravel. The rock spun up, and the sounds of it hitting my car were like the sound of rain on a window at night.
Chaotic but soothing at the same time.
“Inside,” she demanded just as my hands starting pulling the car inward.
“Shit!” she cursed. “He’s not moving over fast enough.”
“I got this,” I said.
“Move over, motherfucker!” she yelled.
I liked her sinful mouth. Especially when she yelled at my competition.
I glided into the inside, farther in than I wanted. My car was going almost at top speed as the gravel curved with the road slightly.
I took a page out of Forrester’s book.
I didn’t curve with it.
My two side tires stayed in the gravel, practically spraying the guy in second place as I pulled up beside him. The two tires on my side hit dirt.
It actually kinda helped with traction.
I manhandled the wheel and forced my car in the place I wanted. The driver beside me backed off just an inch, but an inch was all I needed.
“Pull it up!” Josie yelled. “Take him over.”
My back end fished a little. My stomach jerked.
“You got this, Jace,” Josie whispered in my ear.
I hit the gas.
Fired ahead.
Lapped up my competition and swerved into position behind Forrester’s bright-yellow bumper.
Josie whooped with glee, and I could hear Arrow shouting nearby.
“Fuck yeah!” I roared but tried not to think about it too much. I couldn’t celebrate yet. I still had to maintain for the rest of this lap.
“All right, his tire’s toast. The guy who tried to pass you is coming up on your inside.” Josie warned.
I swerved in a little, holding him back.
I wasn’t giving this shit up. He’d have to shove me off the road.
Which, frankly, wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.
Josie’s thoughts seemed to be in line with mine. “Put some distance between you.”
“On it.” I did. I could practically hear my tires groan.
“These tires are done,” I bitched.
“Just focus,” she said, calm. “I can see them. They’ll hold.”
She was right. They held. They carried me all the way over the finish line, right behind Forrester.
Second place.
Fucking right.
In my ear, Josie and Arrow were yelling and cheering. She laughed at something he said, but I couldn’t make it out.
I grinned, elation making me almost dizzy.
“I’m handing it back over to your commander,” she said, a smile in her voice.
“Hey, Josie,” I said as I slowed.
“Jace?”
“Don’t go too far when this is over. I’m coming for you.”
“I’ll make sure I’m easy to find.”
Slow enough now I was able to glance over toward my pit, dust rose up in the air, creating a veil in the sky. But there she was. Standing on top of my trailer, my brother right beside her.
Dark strands of long hair flowed out behind her like a flag waving in the wind.
Now that was a woman. One who could drive as well as she could ride… (my cock, that is).
Yeah, I would definitely be coming for her tonight.