Speed Demons (11 page)

“To hell with it.” She grabbed her cell phone and pressed the speed dial for Blythe’s number. Three rings went through before a sleepy, but concerned, voice answered.

“Evie? Something wrong?” Blythe cleared her throat. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.” Clinging to the phone with both hands, Evie could hear the slight tone of hysteria in her own voice.

“Of course you should. I’m awake now. Sitting up in bed. Talk to me.” Blythe still sounded husky, but indeed instantly wide-awake. Perhaps a journalist trait.

“I’m having a bit of a rough night. I can’t get the noise to stop.” Not sure how she could possibly be honest with Blythe, she pulled the damp towel closer around her and curled up in the chair.

“What noise?”

“I can hear the other guys. Burning. Crying out and then the flames…the flames.” She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. She nearly always got a headache after the worst of these nightmares. “And then the voices stop. That’s the worst part.”

“Why is that?” Blythe’s voice sounded matter-of-fact, but also impossibly soft.

“That’s when I know it’s too late for them. They’re gone. They burned to death, and I lived.”

“The survivor guilt really does a number on you.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hot tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m so scared this will haunt me forever. I just don’t sleep well. Ever. I can’t complain about it either since the guys that died…” She tried to speak, to explain, but her throat was one big knot.

“It won’t. Just the fact that you called me, that you let someone in, proves that you’re working through this. Just so you know, suffering from survivor guilt and actually being guilty aren’t the same thing. You didn’t cause the crash, you didn’t have anywhere to go without running into another car, and you reacted by the book to the situation. And fast too. I’m sure people have told you this many times.”

“No. Not really. Not in so many words.” It was true. Ben had discussed it with her, and perhaps that had been his message, but nobody had put it like Blythe just had. “Nobody has probably dared since I get so defensive. I shoot them down way before they ever get to the point.”

“Don’t start berating yourself for that too. It’s not hard to tell someone ‘it wasn’t your fault.’ Didn’t you have counseling at the clinic?”

“I hated it. They went way back to my childhood, to my relationship with my parents. To their divorce. Their divorce! I was fucking five years old when they split.”

“Ambitious therapist, but since they knew you were only going to be there a few months, they might have been more successful if they’d been a little less meticulous. Did you even get past your teens before you left?”

Evie chuckled, which stopped her from shaking. “No. I was about at that stage when I started to think about sex.”

“Really?” Blythe snorted. “And which age are we talking about in your case? Early developed or a late bloomer?”

“Early developed physically. Late bloomer before getting the full picture.” Evie knew she was blushing and hid her face, even if she was alone.

“Huh. What does that mean?” Blythe sounded genuinely puzzled.

“I developed early. I’m not very curvy, but the curves I have, I had already at thirteen. I was tall and looked older.”

“And the second part?”

“It took me a while to understand why the other girls were so into boys and swooned over celebrities like boy bands and so on.”

“So when did the penny drop for you?” Blythe seemed more than mildly interested. Was she actually holding her breath?

“Late. I was seventeen before I realized why boys didn’t have a particular appeal for me.” Her heart now pounding for a completely different reason, she waited for Blythe to catch on. This would definitely make her view their dancing together in a whole new light.

“Really.” Blythe’s voice was a whisper. “I was eighteen.”

Was Blythe talking about the same thing she was? Her palms were so sweaty now she nearly dropped the phone, but she had to make sure. “No high-school sweethearts before then?”

“Don’t get me started on high school. So, no. No sweethearts. Just the opposite.”

Confused now, Evie knew they were getting away from what she wanted to know. “And later?”

“At eighteen I fell in love for the first time. She didn’t reciprocate, but for the first time I felt like I had it in me to love someone. Naturally I was crushed to learn she didn’t feel the same.”

She! Evie clasped the phone with both hands. She had thought, hoped, after the dancing, the kiss, and holding hands, but that wasn’t the same as hearing it like this. “I’m sorry about that. I had a girlfriend when I was eighteen. Mal caught us at one point, and, well, you’ve met him. You can imagine what he was like. I wasn’t strong enough to defy him, even if I’d wanted to. My girlfriend reacted badly, since he totally freaked her out. Can’t say I blame her.”

“What happened?”

“Well, when I say Mal caught us, I meant,
caught
us, caught us.”

“Ah. As in making out.”

“Yeah.” Evie cringed at the memory even though it had been twelve years ago. The panicky feeling of scrambling for clothes while her father was tapping his foot outside the barely closed door was so damn humiliating. “How did your folks react?”

“To what?” Blythe sounded puzzled again.

“Coming out?”

“Oh. You mean that. They don’t know.”

“You—you’re still in the closet?” That didn’t seem right. Blythe was perhaps shy and uncomfortable at times, but she was also matter-of-fact and direct.

“No. Not in the closet. Just not in touch with my family. I left home when I was barely eighteen. Haven’t been back since.”

“Oh. I see.” She really didn’t see, but something tickled her memory, something Blythe had said a while back. “Didn’t you say you were from South Carolina and knew the area around Pawleys Island?”

“Yes.” Blythe sighed. “I lived most of my childhood in Myrtle Beach. As far as I know, my family’s still there.”

“And you haven’t been home, I mean visited, there?”

“No.”

“I don’t mean to pry. Really. Just tell me to shut up if I make you feel unsettled. I just figure…well, we’ll be there this week, right there in your old neighborhood. Will this be a problem for you? Your work may suffer, and I’d hate that. We’re depending on each other to succeed.”

“I promise I’ll hold it together.” Blythe now sounded decidedly cooler. “You don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“I just feel it might be a mistake to stay at Pawleys Island, if that’s going to bring back bad memories for you.”

“If you’re that concerned about the finished product, I can certainly stay at a hotel instead of your house. I wouldn’t want to impose.” Blythe sounded stiff now. Evie could picture the light blue eyes being icier than ever before. This wasn’t how she’d meant for Blythe to take her words, not at all.

“I’m not worried about any product. I just don’t want anybody to get hurt.”

“You realize I’ve been to almost every hellhole known to man? Returning to South Carolina will hardly be a bleep on the radar.”

“Something far more personal hurt you there.”

“You want out of the contract?”

“Please, Blythe. Don’t be like that.” Her heart thundering again, she hated the way their conversation was going. “Fuck. I knew it was a mistake to wake you up. I shouldn’t have.” The connection she’d felt only moments ago was gone because she was so damn weak and couldn’t keep herself together.

“Evie.” Blythe sounded tired, but marginally less rigid. “Listen. You were right to call me. You may actually have a point about my being closer to my family adding pressure. However, I won’t let it affect our work. We’ll both succeed. Just wait and see.”

Grateful for Blythe’s attempt to regain the warmth between them, she nodded to herself. Perhaps she was being too sensitive, or even childish. No matter what, she wished she could say something to rekindle the warmth their sharing had created. She didn’t want Blythe to feel bad, so she produced the best casual tone she could.

“Sure we will. Absolutely. You know what? I think I can get back to bed now. Get a few more hours in. Okay?”

“Evie?” There it was again, Blythe’s concerned tone. Evie felt even worse.

“Hope you can sleep some more too. See you Tuesday.”

Evie wasn’t ready to spend time on the road to Pawleys Island with Blythe, but perhaps she’d get her act together by then. “Fine. See you Tuesday morning. Bye.”

She disconnected the phone and pressed it against her forehead. Well, that was one way to get rid of a nightmare. You call the woman you have a business arrangement with, harass her at an ungodly hour, more or less force her to out herself, and then get all weepy and emotional because she has the audacity to not respond the way you want. Really mature.

Evie wasn’t sure why she was weepy and emotional around Blythe. When had she handed over that type of power to her? She left the towel on the chair and crawled naked back into bed. Even after tugging the covers over her, she was cold to the bone. Her father had once lectured her at length after she lost a race at age sixteen, saying she was her own worst enemy. She hadn’t understood or agreed with him then, and she’d be damned if she’d start agreeing with him now.

*

Blythe put her cell phone down and wrapped her arms around her pulled-up knees. What the hell had just happened?

She and Evie had connected, and Blythe had curled up in bed, feeling like they’d actually been in the same room, exchanging secrets. Her being a lesbian was hardly a secret, but she didn’t announce it either. If she had been involved with someone, she could imagine being totally out, despite her being somewhat well-known. She could also see why Evie wasn’t out to the general public, since she was famous in a whole other way. As one of the very few women in racing, anything Evie did attracted attention. If it became common knowledge she was a lesbian, she would have to contend with everything from leering straight guys, to Bible Belt reactionaries, to people wanting her to become a spokesperson, to…just about anything.

Moved by how Evie had dared to reach out to her when she needed someone to listen, Blythe squeezed her legs tight. When had it gone so wrong? Their conversation had been amicable, nice. Warm. Even coming out to Evie had been okay, since both of them had dealt with weird experiences. Evie’s was even worse than her own. After loving Pearl for several years, Blythe was still friends with the woman who once broke her heart. She was also friends with Pearl’s husband of twenty-three years and unofficial godmother to their two children. She sighed. Without Pearl and her family, she wouldn’t have much of a social circle.

She returned to the point in the conversation with Evie when they crashed and burned. Myrtle Beach and Pawleys Island. Evie had sensed that returning to the place where she’d been the ultimate outsider, and a constant disappointment to her parents, would be a problem.

“And I got all defensive and huffy, didn’t I?” She groaned into her knees, pressing her forehead so hard against them that it hurt. Evie had called because she needed someone, and Blythe, being her usual idiotic self, couldn’t step far enough away from her frail ego to show she could be trusted. If they had any problem finishing the book, Blythe would have nobody but herself to blame.

Something else hit her and made her sit ramrod straight. She couldn’t possibly have any long-term impact on Evie. But what if this lack of trust had short-term effects on her? If it made her not pay attention while training…that could be fatal.

Not even stopping to think, she pressed the speed-dial number for Evie. Surely she wasn’t back asleep already?

“Blythe?” Evie’s voice, raw and sort of atonal, sounded anything but sleepy.

“I’m sorry. Whatever just happened? I’m sorry.” She realized she sounded really uncomfortable, but what else was new?

“What?” Her voice came alive again, thank God.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. I just want to say I’m sorry I snapped at you when you were just starting to feel better. I’m not good at this but, with you, I…I want to be.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m so glad you called back.” Evie sniffed, which made Blythe want to smack herself over the head with the cell phone. “Thank you.”

“We’re good?” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yes. Yes, of course we are. You know, I think we both stumbled onto one of those things I refer to as Pandora’s Boxes that we all have. The way I see it, we carry these boxes with us, filled with old hurt, misunderstandings, bad events, and so on. We manage to keep a tight lid on them most of the time. Then I’m thinking, maybe they’re inevitable, these boxes? And since they might be, perhaps we should have those Tupperware boxes instead to keep such things in. You know, the type you squeeze the lid and let air out of every now and then. To keep the pressure off?”

Blythe felt her mouth fall open. “Evie. How did I ever go through life without having you to explain things to me? Nothing anybody else has ever said has made more sense than that. I’m not joking.”

“Yeah? I thought it sounded a bit weird when I said it out loud.” Evie chuckled. “Now I really feel like we’re back on track.”

Blythe was so relieved she wanted to cry. “Me too. Let’s get some more sleep.”

“Yes. See you Tuesday.”

“Good night. Um. Morning.” She disconnected the call and relaxed back into bed, then tucked the cell phone under her pillow with her hand still around it. She felt closer to Evie like this.

Chapter Eleven

The Pawleys Island beach house was nothing like Blythe expected. She had envisioned some modern structure with panoramic windows overlooking the ocean, but this was the direct opposite. Built on tall stilts to accommodate potential flooding during storms, pale blue exterior with white trim and shutters, it looked like all the other houses. No extensive luxury set it apart whatsoever.

“Come on, let me show you.” Evie bounced out of the car and waved impatiently for Blythe to follow her. She opened the door with a code lock and they bounded up the stairs to the first floor.

“Oh, look at that view!” Blythe gazed out the living room window. “I think I said the exact same thing at your place in Plymouth.”