On the Move (16 page)

Vicky had given him “lessons” twice more, but the woman had him outfoxed. She’d demanded they meet in public places, something he couldn’t exactly say no to since he was certain Mr. Knight would see right through him if Brandon demanded they meet in her hotel room. So she’d shown up at restaurants, always busy ones, yet not so busy that they couldn’t find a secluded spot away from prying eyes. He hadn’t been able to do much more than make suggestive comments.

He watched as, down below, someone pushed a tire car toward the garage. The man’s colorful shirt proclaimed him to be with one of NASCAR’s newest manufacturers, a Japanese company that had created quite a stir when they’d entered the racing league’s ranks. A few of his fellow crew members were lounging near a pit stall. It was an hour before qualifying so most cars had already passed through tech inspection. Cars were lined up out on pit road in preparation for qualifying. The scene below him was different from the one before Indy qualifying. If this had been an Indy race, the cars out in pit road would have been hooked up to million-dollar computers, not a two-thousand-dollar generator whose sole purpose was to keep fans blowing and the oil inside the engine warm. The hauler he stood upon would have been parked a million miles away, too.

“She’s here.”

His phone had chirped and he hadn’t even heard it. Yet another sign that he was seriously distracted.

“Where?” Brandon asked after pushing the answer button.

It was Chad, his crew chief, doing the talking. He’d embroiled him in his affairs, albeit, reluctantly, but it’d turned out to be a good move. Obviously, he’d figured out what was going on, but Brandon didn’t care if Chad knew he was having an affair. Maybe that’d keep the other guys away.

“I think that’s her down by the No. 86 garage,” Chad said.

Brandon changed positions, the hauler rocking beneath him. Sure enough, Vicky came toward them, her lips firmly pressed together, her hair loose and streaming out behind her.

She looked pissed.

“That’s her,” Brandon said. “Thanks, buddy.”

“My pleasure,” Chad said. From down in the garage, his crew chief waved. A few members of his crew turned to follow Chad’s gaze. They waved, too. A week ago, Brandon would never have expected such a gesture, but today he returned those waves.

He went straight down the first level of steps, the ones that allowed him access to a platform that hung off the back of the hauler. It was actually the tailgate of the semi that yawned open like an elevated drawbridge, but it worked well as a metal canopy, too, even if it was a hassle to get up and down the ladder chained to its side.

When his feet hit solid ground, Vicky was just stepping beneath the square patch of shade cast by the platform he’d just been standing on.

“Hi, there,” he said, giving her his best smile.

She gave him a glare in return.

“Where can I put my briefcase?” she asked, holding up the same bag she’d carried that day at the drag race track.

“In there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the “office” area of the race-car transporter, the sliding-glass doors off the back reflecting their images and that of the garages behind them.

“Great,” she said, and behind the lenses of her glasses he caught a brittle I-wish-you’d-drop-dead glare.

This might be a long day.

His supposition seemed confirmed when she just about jerked the sliding-glass door off its track because she pulled on it so hard. And when she slammed it closed, Brandon was certain people five haulers over heard the impact.

“Man,” someone said. “She sure looks mad.”

He turned. A little boy peered up at him and Brandon wondered who the kid was. He sat on one of three director’s chairs someone had placed beneath the shade of the elevated tailgate.

“You know, I think you’re right.”

The boy smiled and Brandon recognized him then. “You’re Benjamin Koch.”

“Cool,” the kid said, his whole face lighting up. “I’ve been recognized by a famous race-car driver.”

Of course he had. The kid was famous at Knight Enterprises Motorsports. They’d all met him through Miracles, a charity organization that fulfilled the wishes of terminally ill children. Benjamin had been battling leukemia at the time, but, thankfully, the kid’s cancer was in remission right now. He looked as healthy as a horse, or so Brandon thought. Well, he still had peach fuzz for brown hair, but he didn’t look nearly as sick as he used to.

“What are you doing here?” Brandon asked. “Not that you’re not welcome,” he quickly added at the crushed look on the boy’s face. “I just know you and Todd are pretty tight.”

“Are you kidding? You have no idea what a zoo it is over there. I got tired of being asked to move. Now that I’m no longer in a wheelchair, people don’t give me any respect. Not that I want to be back in that wheelchair or anything.”

“I bet not,” Brandon said. He knew “over there” referred to the other side of the garage. The teams were lined up in order of last year’s points. That’s the way it would be until the first few races were over. Then the teams would line up based on the current year’s points standing. Since Brandon was new, that meant he was out in the south forty. Todd’s hauler was clear on the other side of the garage, next to all the other NASCAR hotshots.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” he asked, looking for the familiar blond woman.

“Yeah. She knows. But she’s trying to get some rest in Todd’s lounge. She’s pregnant.”

Someone opened the glass doors. Not Vicky. She appeared to be hiding.

“With Todd’s child,” Benjamin added.

“Oh, yeah?” Brandon asked, trying to see inside the hauler. Where’d Vicky go?

“She’s only a couple months along, but she said at her age, it feels more like she’s ten months along. She said it’s all Todd’s fault. Babies born on his side of the family have all been whoppers.”

Finally, the kid’s words sank in. “Wait,” he said, shifting his gaze back to the boy. “You mean, your mom’s pregnant with Todd’s kid?”

“Uh-huh,” Benjamin said with a wide grin.

“Does his wife know?”

“Indi?” Benjamin asked. “Of course she knows. It’s her baby, too.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Brandon said, sitting down. The chair squeaked, the wood frame protesting his weight. “How can your mom be pregnant with Todd and Indi’s child?”

“She’s a surrogate.”

Brandon drew back in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t even know that kind of stuff still went on.”

Some fans stopped near a row of tires that were parked about twenty feet off the back of the hauler. He waved them over, signing an autograph or two with a practiced smile. These days, he was grateful for anyone who wanted his signature.

“My mom says there’s big business in being a surrogate. Some women make up to sixty thousand a year.”

“Really? Wow.”

“But she’s doing it for free.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Yup,” Benjamin said with a proud smile.

“Do they know what it is yet? Oh, wait. Of course not. Too early to tell, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Benjamin said. “But they asked for a boy and I guess there’s a way they can make that happen.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Crazy.”

“And if it
is
a boy,” he said, “they’re going to name it after
me.
” He stabbed himself in his chest with his thumb.

“Wow.”

The sliding-glass door opened again. It was Vicky. Brandon leaned toward Benjamin. “Is she carrying a knife?”

Benjamin shook his head.

“Holding a gun?”

“No.”

“Pitchfork, stun gun or any other implements of torture?”

Benjamin giggled. “Nope.”

“Then I guess I’m okay,” Brandon said. “See ya, kid,” he said, rubbing his palm against the peach fuzz.

“What are you doing?” Vicky asked when he stepped in front of her.

“Showing you around.” Brandon glanced back at the boy. “If you don’t mind me leaving you alone,” he said to Benjamin.

“Of course not,” the child said. “Beats the craziness over at Todd’s hauler.”

Brandon took Vicky’s hand. She jerked away.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a near growl.

“Staking my claim,” he said with a wide smile.

“Staking your claim on what?”

“You,” he said.

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“Come on,” he said, placing a hand against the small of her back. “You need to have a look around if you want to do a good job representing me.”

“Oh, yeah? How so?”

“How the heck are you going to know what I’m talking about if you don’t know what the heck everything is?”

“Give me a break,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“All right. Tell me what a spotter is and you can stand here all day long.”

“It’s someone who helps a driver navigate through race traffic. An eye in the sky, if you will.”

“Lucky guess,” he said, taking her arm. “What’s a track bar?”

“Something that goes on the rear of a car to help give tires traction.”

“Wow,” Benjamin said, overhearing their conversation. “She knows a lot.”

“Yeah, but has she ever
seen
track bars before?”

Vicky didn’t say anything. “Aha. Got you there.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Just humor me,” he said. “I’ve got to qualify in less than an hour so it’s not as if we’ll go far. Just have a look around the garage. Now’s a good time what with most of the cars out on pit road.”

She looked as though she might balk again.

“We’ll just be right over there,” he said, pointing.

She moved away from him, but Brandon was relieved it was toward the garage. “She’s secretly in love with me,” Brandon murmured to Benjamin.

“Sounds like it,” the boy said with a giggle.

Brandon smiled and quickly followed after Vicky. As he did so, he found himself thinking it seemed surreal to be chasing her. Usually when he brought a woman to the garage she was trying to keep
him
entertained, or at least interested. Vicky seemed content to walk in silence, the scowl on her face clearly visible.

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” he said, catching up to her. “Stock cars might not look high-tech, but just as much money goes into designing and engineering one as they spend on open wheel cars. You should see some of the equipment we’ve got in there.”

“I can’t wait.”

She was just trying to get him riled. Brandon understood that. “Chad,” he called to his crew chief once they were inside the garage. “Have you met Vicky VanCleef, my agent?”

“No,” he said, walking forward. “I haven’t, but I think I spotted her recently somewhere.”

“The Employee Appreciation Day,” Vicky provided, quickly offering her hand.

She didn’t jerk away from
his
touch, Brandon noticed.

“She was there,” Brandon said. “She was hoping to arrive early enough to throw some balls, but Todd beat her to it. I think she’s hoping for a second chance, though. You don’t happen to have something she could throw at me, do you?”

“You mean, she doesn’t like you?” Chad asked with a mock look of horror. “Imagine that.”

Brandon noticed a slight smile had come to her face. He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or perturbed that it was Chad who’d put it there.

“You want to give her the dime-store tour?” he said. “I need to get changed into my uniform.” Maybe that would impress her, he thought. God knows, he needed something to give him an edge.

“Sure,” Chad said, motioning Vicky toward the engine compartment. Brandon noticed she didn’t hesitate to follow his crew chief.

“Okay, well, have fun,” Brandon called out.

She didn’t even spare him a glance, just stopped by a toolbox where a TV monitor played.

“Don’t worry,” Chad said. “I’ll take care of her.”

Another member of his crew, one carrying a plate of food, said, “And if he doesn’t look out for her, I’ll do it.”

There were choruses of “Me, too” around the garage. Brandon just shook his head. He’d walk Vicky around once she’d calmed down. Then she’d get to see what it was like to be the girlfriend of a driver. How, even though so many fans professed to hate him, they’d still ask him for his autograph—and hers, too, sometimes. The women would flirt. The men would gawk. And Vicky could stand back and watch.

Stupid of you to want to try and impress her in such an obvious way.

Yeah, well, so what? He didn’t have any other choice. Besides, he really did want her to see what his life was like.

Why?

Well, now
that
thought he refused to examine. At least not right now.

“Where’d Benjamin go?” Brandon asked another one of his crew guys. The engine specialist was sitting in the chair next to where Benjamin had been sitting, a plate of food in his lap.