#Swag (GearShark #3) (20 page)

Fuck that.

“Honestly? No. I don’t think it would have mattered if I was a man. I think the fact that I’m a woman is what everyone in the pros hates so much.”

Hopper sighed loudly.

I ignored him.

“Is that why you’re crossing over? Your interview with the magazine seemed to be cut short before you could answer that,” John said, glancing at the camera as if he were telling the viewers.

“It’s definitely part of it.”

“So what I’m hearing is you feel you’re discriminated against as a woman in the sport of racing?”

“I know I am.”

“Care to give us and the viewers at home an example?”

“Well, take this interview for instance.” I pointed out. “The first couple things you asked were about my father and relationship status.”

“I fail to see how that’s discrimination.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Not technically, but I’ve watched you with countless interviews. My fellow male drivers are never asked about who their fathers are or what their relationship status is. You were effectively turning all the attention to the males in my life instead of asking me about being a female driver.”

Hopper was staring daggers at me.
Behave yourself!
his expression said. The cameraman looked amused, and John seemed a little shell-shocked.

He cleared his throat. “So what’s life like as a female racecar driver?”

I smiled brilliantly. “It’s been pretty interesting lately.”

He seemed afraid to ask me to elaborate. Admittedly, I think I was, too. “What do you hope to gain out of your crossover with the NRR?”

Here’s your chance…

“More drive time, more fun, and less rules.” He started to pull the mic away, so I quickly added, “And to spend more time with Drew Forrester, who is likely going to be the first NRR champion.”

“So I guess we know who you’re rooting for today?”

I laughed. “Of course.”

“So one last time…” He paused. “Would you care to comment on your relationship with Lorhaven?”

Unbelievable
.

“I don’t really have a comment,” I said. Then with a smile, I added, “Maybe if he ever asks me out, I will.”

John Lennox turned in front of the camera and smiled into it. “There you have it, folks. An exclusive talk with Joey G., the first driver to give up the pros in favor of an unestablished division of racing.”

I bristled. He made me sound so… fickle. Rage boiled up inside me. Made me sorry about all the things I hadn’t said.

“And…” He continued, his voice cheeky.

Cheeky = something stupid was about to come out of his mouth.

“Sounds like it’s a direct challenge for NRR driver Lorhaven to ask out this little firecracker.”

Little firecracker?

The red light on the camera went off, and I dropped my smile. John turned back around. “Hey, thanks—”

My finger jabbed into his chest, and his words cut off. “Why were you trying to bait me?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” he asked, like he was an idiot.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. Well, thank you for taking the time to interview me.”

John and his gigantic camera-toting friend rushed off. Hopper scowled and started forward. I turned away, toward the race, which was already in progress.

The pit crew was standing at the ready with everything Drew might need front and center. I glanced up, squinting against the blinding summer sun at Trent, who was standing on top of the long tractor-trailer with Drew’s name scrawled across the side, along with my father’s business logo and the logo for the NRR. His shirt was bright yellow, Drew’s name scrawled across his wide back, and there was a black baseball hat pulled over his face. Sunglasses wrapped around his eyes, and a headset rested over his ears with a mic at his lips.

His eyes never once left the track, more specifically, Drew’s position. I watched as Trent’s lips moved, and he smiled fast. Then he turned serious again and went back to the job he took very seriously.

Trent served as Drew’s spotter, his eyes for the entire track, to warn him of blind spots, potential issues, and he also would be able to make sure the crew could burst into action with exactly what Drew needed when he pulled in.

I’d never been to this track before. It wasn’t a pro raceway. It wouldn’t pass all the codes and requirements to make it pro quality. It wasn’t a perfect oval-shaped speedway like I was used to. The pro racing circuit was more about science and precision. We measured how much fuel we put in so as not to weigh the car down to heavily. The tire pressure was always exact, and we planned each pit stop to perfection, because one misstep could cost a lap, a lag, or basically a total loss. The variables in pro racing were more standard in a lot of ways… more controlled. Essentially, the drivers were all on equal footing.

This was not the case with the NRR.

This track was bigger, longer, and had a lot more curves, like a country backroad. No track was exactly the same. While the first race of the season was more standard because it was at my father’s speedway, this one was much more exciting and showed the fans what the NRR was all about.

More variables. More unknowns. That was the NRR.

There was a section of gravel instead of asphalt the drivers had to transition on as they drove, and there was a dirt road that cut right through the center of the course that they had to drive across. The dust from the commotion filled the air and floated down the entire pit row.

In this division, it all came down to who was a better driver. It was more like off-road racing. It came down to which driver could maneuver the best, control his vehicle the best through the curves, the transitions of the road types… It was about more than speed.

I liked it. It added a lot more elements to the race. It added more drama and grit. And to me, it added more heart. It let a driver really show what they were made of. By the sound coming from the stands, it was a huge hit.

I loved the feel of race day. It was like being contaminated with a virus, except it wasn’t a gross sickness; it was more of an epidemic you enjoyed sweeping through your body. The vibrations of the car, the tone of the roaring crowd. The cheers, the announcers, people yelling at every turn.

I didn’t always get a side seat to a race. Most of the time, I was in the driver’s seat where a lot of the sound was muffled by my own car.

But man, I loved both equally the same.

“Discrimination, Joey?” Hopper said, nudging me in the side. Guess I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there forever.

I glanced at him out of the side of my eye. “Like you don’t agree one hundred percent.”

“Look, I know it hasn’t been easy, but that interview could have gone a lot better.”

I made a sound, still watching the race. Drew was in the lead, Jace was in fourth, but I knew just by looking, he’d have third after the next turn.

“Trust me; it could have been a lot worse,” I murmured.

All the things I wanted to say, the words and emotions I sometimes felt were choking me, were all right there. Stuck.

Because I was afraid.

Afraid what would happen if I opened my mouth.

“And what’s this about Lorhaven? That cover, J, it’s been a PR nightmare. Everyone thinks you’re crossing over because of some guy.” He was clearly exasperated trying to manage me and keep my father happy as well.

I laughed.

It isn’t just one guy. It’s a whole lot of them.

“Look.” I ripped my eyes off the track and laid them on Hopper. The bite in my attitude fell to the wayside when I saw the expression in his blue eyes. He wasn’t trying to be a jerk. He was my friend. He was concerned, and he was also my manager. I knew Hopper cared about my career. He was the only one in the pro circles that treated me like I belonged there.

I sighed and looked back out, craning my neck in time to see Jace take third place. A feeling of pride filled me. They sped out of sight, and I started toward a big monitor where I could see the section of the track I couldn’t view from here.

Hopper grabbed my wrist, not roughly, just enough to get my attention. I didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” I said, using his first name, hoping to show him I really meant it, and shifted closer. “I just… He pissed me off in the beginning, trying to goad me. It’s like they all want me to snap or something. So they can say I don’t belong. And then the stuff with Jace…”

“Jace?”

“Lorhaven.” I corrected.

“Was that a joke for the media about him asking you out, or were you serious?”

I rolled my eyes.

He made a sound. “You like him?”

I shrugged. “He’s not as bad as I originally thought.”

Hopper nodded and glanced over toward Jace’s pit crew. His attention seemed to focus on something there and off of me. I started to turn to see if something was wrong, but he looked back. “Is that his brother?”

I glanced around at Arrow, who had a headset already over his blond head. “That’s Justin Bieber.” I joked.

Hopper grinned, but not the kind of smile that usually graced his face. This one was a little… fonder? Charmed? I stared at him, but he didn’t notice; he looked back in Arrow’s direction.

“Yeah, that’s his brother. Arrow.”

“He’s a driver, right?” There was definite curiosity in his tone.

I nodded.

Hopper crossed his arms in front of him, a thoughtful look coming over him. “Is he any good?”

“I haven’t seen him drive, but if he’s anything like Jace, then yeah, probably.”

“He looks young,” he said, almost to himself.

I tilted my head. Was Hopper checking out Jace’s brother?
Like checking him out
? Interesting.

He must have noticed my scrutiny, because he focused on me and cleared his throat. “Next time you’re in front of a reporter, maybe be a little less…”

“Myself?” I finished for him.

He laughed. “More yourself. That wasn’t you back there, Joey. That was the woman you want everyone to think you are.”

Ouch. That hit its mark.

I mumbled a reply, then went off to watch the race.

Maybe I’d been lying to myself all along.

Maybe I wasn’t fighting stereotypes… Maybe I was hiding behind them.

Lorhaven

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.