Fuel To The Fire (New Adult Contemporary Romance) (14 page)

I’m
crushed! Marco is done! After everything we went through today. I just spent
four plus hours in 98 degree heat, battled dehydration, my own ignorance about
racing, and we lose at the very end by a quarter of a car length to Irwin
Fletcher.

We were
about to win the race. All we had to do was pass the number 78 car. He wasn’t
even a contender. He was in 38
^th
place and we were just lapping him.
He should have moved over and let us by. Marco had the momentum, he had plenty
acceleration left, he would have blown by Fletcher for the win but the guy in
the 78 car tapped his brakes and moved up just enough to cause Marco to have to
slow down to keep from hitting him from behind. Sure Marco ended up passing by
him but he’d had to slow too much so by the time he got around the guy Irwin
Fletcher is uncatchable. Marco still almost caught him though. He redlined the
engine, made a hard charge, and came within a quarter of a car length from
winning. The moment they both cross the finish line Marco’s engine blows. By
the time he came to a halt a plume of smoke and flame had totally engulfed the
front of his car.

Marco
jumps out, runs to pit row and tackles some blond haired guy who had been
driving the number 78 car. Marco gets him down to the asphalt and pounds on
him. His crew actually keep the guys teammates from intervening until Marco had
taken his pound of flesh. Finally, Alanzo calls his guys off and they let the
other pit crew rescue their driver. What a fucked up way to end a season and
end a career! I watch the whole thing from the Spotter’s stand. I don’t have
the heart to go down there for a while. I just sit up there in shock until
Alanzo raises me on the radio.

“Hey
girl, why don’t you come on down from your roost? Marco could use you.”

I stand
up, shaking my head. How could it have ended like this? I was so sure after I
guided Marco into second place that he would take the checkered flag. I kept
having these little visions in my head of our pit crew jumping up and down,
screaming with joy as Marco did burn outs on the way to the winners circle. In
my head we had already won and that’s what makes swallowing this so damn
difficult. We lost and I just can’t accept that.

“Alright
Alanzo, I’m coming down.”

Slowly,
I climb back down to the ground and head over to our pit box. I have no idea
what I’m going to say to Marco. What can you say to a young man who has just
lost his ride? If that sick fuck in the number 78 car hadn’t had intentionally
slowed Marco down we’d be drinking champagne in the winner’s circle. When I
reach our pit box most of our team is still there tending to our car. Marco is
nowhere to be seen. After a minute Alanzo comes up to me.

“He’s in
his trailer Carrie. Thanks to you, he raced like a champion today. Neither of
you have anything to be ashamed of.”

The walk
to Marco’s trailer is only about fifty feet but those are the longest fifty
feet I have ever had to walk. By the time I reach his door my cheeks are wet
with tears. I pause before knocking. I’m here to cheer him up. I wipe my face,
take a deep breath, and knock on his door.

“It’s
open.”

Slowly I
turn the handle and open the door. Marco is sitting on the couch, his racing
suit pulled down around his hips and a glass half full of caramel colored
liquid in his hand. I take a long look at his face. It’s all written there. He
doesn’t even have to say a word.

“Looks
like I have some catching up to do,” I say, pointing to the drink in his hand.

“We
almost did it Carrie. Second place ain’t bad either you know...”

“Isn’t
there a saying about the guy who comes in second though?”

I
shouldn’t have said it but I couldn’t help myself. Seeing him like this is
making me feel both bitter and angry, and sorry for myself. But why should I
feel sorry for myself? I’ll still be a trauma nurse and can get a hospital job
if not on another racing team. Marco on the other hand...

He gulps
his drink down in two swallows. I grab a glass of my own and fill both our
glasses. The first searing drink gives me a coughing fit.

“This
stuff is like lighter fluid,” I announce when I can talk again.

“I’m
glad he’s dead you know...”

“What?
Glad who’s dead? Oh my god, did Harvey die?”

“What?
No, he’s fine. I mean my father. I’m glad he didn’t live to see me fail him.
The Panata racing family is dead because of me.”

“Hey,
just because you may not race anymore doesn’t mean you can’t be involved. A lot
of drivers become spotters I hear.”

“Winning
drivers become spotters. No one will want to take advice and direction from a
losing driver who lost his ride.”

“What
about an owner? You said you had a protégé. Maybe he can drive for you. Create
your own team and let him race for you. I’m sure he’d let you spot for him.”

“Such a
dreamer, Carrie. It takes millions of dollars every year to field even one
driver.”

“Surely
your father left you...resources, right?”

“You’d
think, wouldn’t you? He left it to my mom. We don’t even talk anymore.”

Even in
Marco’s worst moment, even in utter defeat he is desirable. There’s something
about him. I just want to curl up in his arms and make sweet passionate love to
him. I take another sip of the fiery liquid in my glass and set in on the
coffee table. I scoot over to Marco and relieve him of his empty glass. Maybe
he just needs to know he’s loved.

“You’ll
figure out something Marco...”

“If I’m
not a race car driver then who am I? It’s my identity. When I was four, my dad
gave me my first go cart, took me to a dirt track, and turned me loose. I knew
from that moment what I wanted to be in life and I’ve never wanted anything
else. How do I go back from there Carrie? How do I become something else that
I’m not?”

“Marco...”

“I can’t
go to school and earn a degree. I can’t change professions and become a doctor
or lawyer or anything else because that would make me a fraud. If I was a
police officer I would look at myself in the mirror every morning and know that
that is not me. I’m just a race car driver pretending to be a police
officer...or whatever else I was masquerading as.”

“What
are you to me, Marco?”

“What do
you mean?”

“You’re
not just a race car driver to me. Sure, you race cars, but to me that’s just
what you do, not who you are. To me you’re a sensitive, wonderfully caring man
struggling to get out from under his father’s oppressive thumb, struggling to
become his own man apart from Adriano Panata. Marco, you can’t become your own
man as long as you follow exactly in your father’s footsteps. I bet you
anything that when your father was 4 his father gave him a go cart and set him
loose on the track too. I’d be willing to bet that if you tracked your
accomplishments over lifetime and put those next to your fathers own
accomplishments it would look like the same person. Wasn’t he the youngest
driver to race at the NASCAR level in the history of the sport?”

“Sure...”

“Same
with you too right?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t
you both win your very first race in your rookie year? Weren’t you the youngest
driver to ever place first in points also, along with your father or course?”

I can
see a change beginning to come over him as he’s beginning to hear the truth.

“Strike
out on your own. Make your own way in this life. Do that, and one day after you
have become your own man, if you want to still return to racing you can do so
as your own person separate from Adriano’s shadow and people will respect that
and give you the chance you need. Right now, they just see the kid who could
not become his father and has failed. They don’t want a failure and that’s why
you’re losing your ride. Any other driver gets second at Daytona, they’d have
sponsors lining up to put him in their cars.”

For an
answer he just leans in and kisses me. He makes love to me with an urgency born
out of desire rather than a desperate attempt to chase away his demons. This
time I know he’s not using me to keep the past at bay and neither am I.

For the
first time I don’t feel the shadow of a former love as Marco and I make love. I
too have been trapped in the past. It’s no wonder I’ve been confused about my
feelings for Marco. I told Marco to become his own man. Well, I needed to
become my own woman, not just some wounded reflection of past tragedies and
sorrows. Lying in Marco’s arms, I savor the moment but I don’t feel the need to
capture the feelings or take them hostage. There’ll be another time; of that I
am sure.

Marco’s
phone ringing off the hook startles both of us. Marco scrabbles for his phone
and finally comes up with it before it stops ringing.

“What?”
he asks, out of breath. And then, after a long pause, “You’re shitting me!”

Something
is up. Marco’s face has gone from annoyance at being woken up to a mask of
confusion then wonder. He listens for a moment longer before a giant smile
breaks out across his face. He drops his phone, stands up on his bed and just
starts jumping around and whooping it up like a kid. What the hell?

“Marco!
Marco what’s going on?” I have to shout to get his attention. It takes a full
minute to bring him back down to earth.

“Carrie
Zane, will you marry me? Will you be the wife of the lead driver for the new
Team Panata, sponsored by none other than Home Depot and Red Bull?”

“What?”
I don’t know what shocks me more; his marriage proposal or the fact that he
suddenly has one of the biggest sponsors in the sport of NASCAR racing.

Suddenly
Marco drops to his knees and takes my hands in his. When he looks up into my
face his eyes are shining with tears of happiness. All thoughts of racing and
sponsors and NASCAR flee my mind. I just want to be Mrs. Marco Panata. A sudden
wave of pure love and excitement comes crashing over me.

“Yes yes
yes!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I do...I do, I do!” But...what was that
call all about?”

“Fletcher’s
car didn’t pass the post-race inspection. It seems he was busted for having the
front of his car too low to the ground. He cheated. His crew chief has been
suspended and they awarded me with the victory instead.”

I don’t even
care about the specifics of the race at this point. I’m going to be Mrs. Carrie
Panata!

Carrie

The
following race season was a busy year for us personally and for the newly
reformed Team Panata. Marco took on his protégé, the young kid he was helping
out. The kid won in his first ever outing as a full-fledged NASCAR driver.
Marco came in second that day but no one really cared. It was a victory for
Team Panata, and that’s all that really counted.

By
August, Marco was number on in points and Jimmy, his protégé, was second
followed by Ariel Bronwyn in third and then Irwin Fletcher fourth—with a new
crew chief, of course. Harvey is back in his position as spotter but he’s
training a replacement, me. Yup, who knew I’d have a different career with Team
Panata? It’ll be a year or two of course so in the mean time I double as a
trauma nurse for the team, working side by side with my best friend and lead
medic Rachael. So far, our services haven’t been needed.

I had
wanted a June wedding, but with our racing schedule being what it is, I settled
for a December one instead. It was at Daytona though, so it was like June
anyway. Afterwards everybody took a dip in Lake Lloyd, the manmade lake inside
the oval track.

Kids on
the way? Not for a while. We want to focus on our careers. After all, Marco
just got his back so we both want to see just how far he can take it. And with
me by his side, we’ve both got the feeling that this is just the beginning...

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