Disloyalty.
Dishonor.
Fucking turd burglars.
I used to think the pro division was the cream of the crop. The top percentage of drivers. You know why I thought that?
Because that’s what the pro division wants everyone to think.
People only know the information they’re given.
I’ve learned a whole hell of a lot in the past few years; most of it turned everything I thought about the world of racing onto its ass.
When you’re on the outside looking in, things look a whole lot prettier. Once the door is open, though? You find the cobwebs in the corner, the dust under the beds… the trash that didn’t yet make it into the garbage.
This wasn’t the first pro race I’d been to. It was the first time I’d sat in the pit. The first time I’d watched on with fucking rocks in my gut and my heart in my throat.
Brutal.
That’s what this was today.
Only a few laps in, it became clear Joey was a target. It was like every car on that track worked against her. Driving wasn’t a team sport, but today, they all seemed to band together as just that and focus on getting her the hell out of their way.
What the fuck?
Is this what she faced on a daily basis?
I’d rather have my leg hair pulled out one at a time with rusty tweezers than stand here and watch these guys try and run her off the road.
I knew better than anyone driving got heated. It was dangerous. Tension and adrenaline ran high. But this was different. This was vicious.
I paced. Drew and Trent stood by and watched with grim faces. Drew started yelling the first time someone got too close. Josie handled it like a pro and moved on like she didn’t even notice. Hopper yelled the second time it happened, and Trent stood there with anger in his eyes and veins bulging in his neck.
About five laps to go, I noticed a car coming up behind her. I looked up at her spotter, and the fucker wasn’t even watching. He was supposed to be her eyes. Her ears… a partner.
“What the fuck!” I yelled.
Trent glanced at me. “They’re going at her hard today.”
“It always like this?” I bit out.
“I haven’t been to many of her races, but they’ve never been this bad before.” His voice was grim, restrained with anger.
Hopper paced by, staring straight ahead. I grabbed him, pulled him around.
“What the fuck is going on out there?”
“I don’t know,” he spat, looking back.
“Those are your guys out there! They’re attacking one of your own!”
“I’m working on it!” he yelled back. I shoved him aside, and he put his ringing phone to his ear. “Tell him to back the fuck off, Grimes!” he roared as he swung back around.
My eyes stayed glued to Joey’s car as it tore around the track. I wondered if she was okay, how tired she was. How mentally drained she was feeling and how bad these fuckers were messing with her head.
“So help me God, if he doesn’t back off, he’s going to regret it.” Hopper ripped the hat off his head as he yelled into the phone and shoved at the messy dark strands of hair. They were damp with sweat as his eyes were glued to the race.
It wasn’t good enough. Him calling the spotter’s mates and demanding they behave wasn’t enough. I glanced back up at Josie’s spotter. He was saying something to her, shaking his head.
The sound of metal crunching on metal stopped my heart. A loud buzzing sound replaced everything going on around me. My hands shook wildly, and I felt unsteady.
“Josie,” I ground out, glancing around, desperate to make sure she was okay.
It was like I was suddenly blind. I couldn’t find her. All I saw was metal and cars piling on top of one another accompanied by the sound of brakes squealing.
A hand hit the back of my neck, squeezing so hard it brought me back. “There, she’s fine, ahead of it all,” Trent said, steering my head in her direction.
All the oxygen whooshed out of me in a great heave. Suddenly, I felt like a deflated balloon.
“Thank God,” I rasped.
Trent gave my neck a light squeeze and let go.
I sprinted into action. I raced forward and rushed up the ladder taking me to where the spotter was posted up high. The platform wasn’t tiny; there was enough room to move around.
There was a hard, annoyed look on his face. “You’re in trouble, Joey. You need to get some space. He’s drafting, and it looks bad,” he said into the mic.
I saw red. How dare he talk to her like that, like he didn’t even care!
I made a sound, and he spun. His eyes widened when I stalked forward.
“Give me the headset,” I ground out.
His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head.
I laughed. Then I punched him right in the face. He folded like a house of cards. Fucking pussy. His nose was bleeding when I bent and ripped off the headset.
He made a sound, and I shoved his head away. “Shut up,” I told him and put it on.
The relief in her voice when I came on was apparent, and it made me feel sick. She shouldn’t even be in this position to need relief. She should’ve had someone in her ear that wasn’t an asshole.
Goddamn, I was so, so angry. My hands shook with it.
I wanted to ask her if she was okay, if she was upset.
I couldn’t.
We had to do this. Races were run by the clock, driven by focused drivers. Right now, she needed guidance and confidence in her ear. Even if I did think this was a giant clusterfuck, I would do right by Josie.
I knew even more fear when another driver started drafting her left back corner and another boxed her in. I felt helpless, completely out of control. I couldn’t protect her. She had to protect herself.
But if this guy wrecked her… if she got hurt in any way… I’d be this motherfucker’s worst nightmare.
“We got this,” I told her, forcing resolve into my voice.
And we did.
She made it out.
The asshole who bumped her end could drive home in his scrap metal with a did not finish under his belt. Once they hauled it off the track, that is. I rather enjoyed the sight of him standing on the shoulder, staring at the mangled mess he’d been driving.
The amount of relief I felt when Josie pulled into the pit made my knees weak. I leaned on the railings and stared down at her car. I flirted with her because, even though she seemed okay, I knew she was rattled inside.
Too soon, she was ripping back into the race, and my heart rate was still so high I was pretty sure it counted as cardio for a day.
“Let’s win this thing,” I said, getting back into the race. She was trusting me with this, with her eyes, her safety.
I wasn’t going to be like the bastard who had at some point crawled away and down the ladder.
I wasn’t going to be like the limp dicks out on the track, pissed off because she was kicking ass despite what the hell they were doing to her.
How this shit even passed all the pro codes was beyond me.
Fuck that. Fuck them.
She had me now.