“So, it’s a girl, eh! Fast cars and faster women, that it?” he asks, stifling a laugh, but I tense up and my hands fisting.
“Alright, easy son,” he says. “They’ll be right there with you, we all will Steve. That’s why it's called a team,” he adds firmly, looking a little bored and disappointed his star’s hung up on something so trivial.
“Like I said, Steve. You win the race, I’ll reward ya. Plain and simple. Shit happens, but don’t let that shit be comin’ from your end. I don’t want no angry daddy gumming up the work because their daughter can’t keep her panties dry… catch?” he asks, a strong edge in his voice.
Suspicion and warning. I growl low but nod my head, reminding myself I need this job to give Penny the life she deserves. Having her along is gonna be tough in so many ways but I couldn’t think of doing it any other way.
I extend my hand to the old man, to the hand that’s feeding me. “Mr. Billings, I’ll do my best.” Is all I can promise, and his firm reply of his stout hand in mine is as good as any gentleman’s agreement.
Before I’m ushered out again, Billings has a word with the manager, who from his last name is a relation, wheezing instructions into his bent ear and with a nod from both, I get the distinct feeling I might just be getting to have my cake and eat it too after all.
I just hope Mike’s doing alright, I haven’t even seen him to talk about the cars yet… and the main race starts in a little over an hour, with the team manager telling me there’s just enough time for a quick briefing, change and what he insists afterwards is a contractual power nap.
And still no sign of Penny or Mike.
“You look like shit, Steve. You been up all night, you hit the mark in qualifying, but we need you fresh. Like Mr. Billings said, you win today, and every day after, you can have anything you want just how you want it… but today, you gotta earn it. You gotta prove yourself some more, okay? Now get some fuckin’ rest… and then win that fuckin’ cup today,” he orders me.
I internally join the dots in the man’s lineage, tracing it back to the owner of the team, who I peg as his grandpa, most likely.
Aside from that, I have to agree with him.
I do need some rest, even just a cat nap if I’m gonna be functional for the race.
But I know it’s useless.
Where are you, Penny?
CHAPTER NINE
Penny
I tell myself to take deep breaths.
Not to panic.
You can do this… you got this… once Steve finds you again, he’ll take care of everything. He won’t just abandon you. Not like this…
Dad’s look is sour, bordering on ‘fuck this shit’ once we’re grilled for being late, but after some more friendly directions from the other team members, some coffee and a more definite set of conditions for our future employment dad perks up. Unfortunately for me, I’m left on the sidelines for now.
And no matter which way I turn or wherever I go, I can’t find Steve for the life of me.
I’ve been around amateur and semi-pro teams since I can remember. Since I could crawl, so I’m not intimidated by the pit scene, the noise or the smell and I know where not to put my nose as well as my feet.
But damn, if this pro team isn’t so unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Dad’s got his work cut out for him, that’s for sure. It’s more like a military or synchronized athletics team. Everyone at their station, everyone waiting for the next command and nobody standing idle or shooting the breeze.
“Wish me luck. Qualifying starts any minute but I’m on the back up cars to start with,” Dad murmurs before pecking my head as he’s led away.
Me?
I’ve got an access all areas pass and a few ’Scuse me, thank you’s from the pit crew but I already miss the one thing that’s really brought me here.
Huffing a sigh through puffed cheeks, and slotting my own team headphones on, I grab another coffee, a Danish and wait.
And wait.
It feels like forever, but there’s finally an unseen buzz of excitement as the qualifying race is about to start.
Getting my bearings from the live video feed and other monitors, I can tell I’m on the wrong side of the team’s pit garage to be anywhere near Steve right now, but I finally get to see him.
My heart’s in my throat before the start, but once he’s away, I feel it glowing in my chest like hot iron.
His driving style is aggressive but determined, and I tell myself he’s thinking about me, that he wants to see me again as badly as I need him right now.
But really?
I dunno, a lot of the crew are amazed, impressed and finally awe-struck by his performance, which lands him first place on the grid for the main race after the qualifying laps.
Not bad at all for the rookie driver.
I’m pushed along in the throng of support crew, cheering their position but I’m only struggling to get close for my own reasons.
For the second time in as many hours, Steve is whisked away, just out of sight and reach, unable to hear me either over the pit crew, shouting congratulations and finally, orders for the car to be readied for the actual race.
From what I gather, overhearing what everyone else is saying, he’s been asked to meet the owner of the team. A rare privilege, with even the owner’s grandson, Benson who manages the team from what I’ve gathered, has his nose slightly out of joint from the attention Steve’s generated.
And it starts to sink in, my biggest fear I’ve had all along, that my dad and I, as much as he’s tried to
