One Track Mind (8 page)

But now she looked at him as if she remembered, too, and didn’t find it ridiculous at all. He didn’t, either. He found it touching and painful. And he also felt as if part of him had been missing since those days. Did she feel the same?

Impossible,
he told himself sternly.

“See?” Clara said, “Just like old times. Same as ever. Know what you want?”

“Hamburger steak, medium,” Kane muttered.

“The patty melt,” Lori said, staring at the menu as if she hadn’t seen it at least five thousand times. “And iced tea, please.”

“Gotcha.” Clara plodded off, and Randy Travis sang on, despite the scratches on the record.

“So,” Kane said wryly, “this place is in some island in the time-space continuum. It really hasn’t changed. But a lot has. What happened to the Bostwick Hotel?”

“Closed three years ago,” Lori said, tracing a line down the condensation on her water glass. “Not enough business. It’s been for sale, but the Bostwicks still own it.”

“The Ming Toy Restaurant? The racing teams said it was the best Chinese food in the state.”

“Moved to Asheville. They cater to the college crowd now.”

“The Military Theater?” he asked. Once they’d been bold enough to meet in the darkest corner of its balcony and had necked all through
Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

“People go to the multiplexes in Asheville or Henderson.”

He took another sip of his drink. “What about the textile mills?”

She shook her head. “Still empty. Uncle June’s stepdaughter owns them. She’d sell them for next to nothing, but nobody seems to want to buy a hundred-year-old textile mill.”

“Those buildings were like fortresses,” he said. “They’ll be standing when everything else falls.”

She smiled pensively. “I suppose they will.”

“What about the old racing crowd?” he asked. “You ever see any of them? Drivers? Teams? Lightning Kinsky? Rolly Munson? Flash Gorton?”

“You know,” she said, meeting his eyes squarely for the first time, “almost all of them came to Daddy’s funeral. And afterwards, we all sat around and talked about the old days. I still hear from a lot of them at Christmas.”

She paused. “They knew, by the grapevine, that Daddy wasn’t quite himself for the last few years he had. But he didn’t get really…you know…in bad shape until nearly the end. I guess the first sign was when he became paranoid. He—imagined things. I tried to reason with him. A lot of people did. He wouldn’t listen.”

“You couldn’t step in? Get power of attorney? A conservatorship?”

“I thought about it. I tried to talk to A.J. about it. He wouldn’t consider it. He said everything would be fine once he got home again. But he didn’t come home. And that did something to Daddy. And then Daddy was gone, too.”

He resisted the urge to put his hand over hers. “He never should have gotten so bitter about NASCAR. They had no grudge against him.”

“He was always sure he was right. Even when he was wrong. NASCAR never had a vendetta against him. But what’s done is done.”

“Sometimes what’s done can be undone,” Kane said. “It’s time for Halesboro and NASCAR to start over.”

But her face told him she didn’t believe him. Above all else, he wanted to change that expression, to see that she had faith in him the way she once did—before…

Back then, more than once she’d told him, “I think you could do anything you put your mind to. Anything.” But the girl who’d said that was gone, and a more wary and realistic woman had taken her place. Did he really still care what she thought? It would be so much more satisfying not to.

“I can’t
promise
anything,” he said.

“I know that,” she replied, but she held her chin up, just as she used to.

They were saved from saying any more by Clara, who plunked down a plate before each of them. “Enjoy,” she said, which was what she always said to everyone.

C
LARA MUST BE
in a nostalgic mood. Or a sadistic one
, Lori thought unhappily. She feigned a hearty appetite, but the jukebox unnerved her and made her feel that although she sat there, thirty-seven years old, she was simultaneously only sixteen.

Now the Pet Shop Boys sang “Always on My Mind.” The sound brought back, all too vividly, when she’d loved Kane. And lost him.

But she had to act as if she didn’t remember that time at all, that it was unimportant and forgotten. Instead she talked shop with him: races and tracks, drivers and teams, owners and sponsors. But the conversation seemed to take place in some ghostly sphere where the present didn’t seem nearly as vivid as the past, and long-dormant emotions came surging back to haunt her.

Lori found herself in an eerie time warp, where Kane was at once a boy of seventeen who was her soul mate, but also a grown man she really didn’t know and couldn’t understand. For years she’d supposed that if she met him again, she’d wonder what she’d ever seen in him, laugh at herself for having once found him attractive.

But he still cast a spell over her that was extremely physical—yet went far beyond the physical. He was mysterious, and he hadn’t lost his air of being a loner, quietly yet fiercely independent.

She hesitated to ask him anything too personal, but there was one question she couldn’t help raising. Raising her eyes to meet his dark gaze, she said, “I never imagined you as an
agent.
An agent’s a kind of salesman. He has to schmooze and compromise. It’s hard to imagine you doing either.”

For a moment, disdain flickered in his gaze, and she knew she’d offended him. But his expression quickly turned cool and neutral. When he spoke, his voice was calm.

“My job’s to take care of my clients. The most important thing I have to do is be trustworthy. You’ve been around sports all your life. You’ve seen what can happen to a talented athlete. Suddenly everybody wants a piece of him.”

She nodded because she
had
seen it. She remembered a young driver called Hawk Roberts, who seemed destined to be both a champion and a star. But he let his father manage his career, and the father was ruled by greed and pride.

His decisions changed Hawk from a rising star to a falling one. Five years later, nobody seemed to know what became of Hawk, where he was or even if he was still alive. “A flash
in the pan,” her father had said. Clyde would mutter, “What a waste. What a shame.”

Kane seemed to know how she felt, and a frown line appeared between his eyebrows. “A gifted kid can make the right moves and stay a contender his whole career. Or he can make the wrong moves and permanently louse up his life. I’ve got a duty not to be a yes-man to somebody like that. And a duty to tell him the truth even when he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Athletes learn fast that the world’s full of people who’d love to use them, get at the money and exploit the fame. A smart athlete won’t trust everybody he meets. Just the opposite. So an agent has to
earn
that trust. By talking straight and playing fair.”

Lori said, “That’s how you got Kent Grosso for a client?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Kent’s at the top right now. He’s getting all kinds of offers. It’d be tempting for him to say yes to everything. But he shouldn’t. His day has only twenty-four hours, his week only seven days. For his own good, he’s got to be selective.”

She lifted her chin. “And you help him do the selecting?”

“I tell him what I think. And I think about what I tell him. If he wanted to, he could devote himself to raking in all the fast bucks that he can. But in the long run, grabbing fast bucks can burn a person out. Kent’s got a family, a new wife, and he wants a future brighter than being some old miser who sold his soul.”

“You make being an agent sound like a noble calling,” she said dubiously.

“It’s a job,” he countered. “It can be done badly. It can be done well. I’ve tried to do it well.”

“And it hasn’t exactly made you poor,” she pointed out.

“Money buys some things. It doesn’t buy everything.”

“It bought you the speedway. Does that make you happy?” she challenged.

“Happy?” He looked her up and down. “Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

“Not ‘we,’” she corrected. “You. Because it’s going to be yours. It won’t be my concern any longer.”

He shook his head and gave her a cryptic smile. “It’ll always be your concern because it’s part of you. You’ve been connected to it your whole life. It’s part of your family, your past, your very identity. And it’ll be ‘we’ because you’ll be working for me. Remember?”

She pushed her plate away. She couldn’t finish her meal; she’d lost her appetite. “I remember. And I’ll use that time to put even more emotional distance between me and what used to be. I don’t intend to wallow in the past. The speedway’s future is in your hands now.”

He, too, pushed away his plate without finishing the last few bites. He crossed his arms and leaned his elbows on the table. When he spoke, his tone was edged with mockery. “And do you hope that I succeed? Or fail?”

She shrugged as casually as she could. “I hope you succeed, of course. For my father’s sake. The speedway meant the world to him.”

He gave her a measuring look. “I’m not walking into this blindly, you know. I’ve done my research. And I’ve got plans.”

“Good.”

“Don’t you want to know those plans?”

She crossed her own arms. “I figure you’ll tell me if you think I should know.”

“I love it when you pretend to be demure,” he said. “But I’ll give you credit. You’ve done a lot of things to keep money coming in. But there’s one thing you left undone. You don’t have enough NASCAR drivers or teams testing at the track. There’s money there. And a certain prestige.”

“We have a couple, Will Branch, Trey Sanford,” she countered.

“Yes, but we need more higher-profile drivers. I’ve talked to Dean Grosso. He likes the idea of the Cargill-Grosso team testing here. It’s a tough track. It challenges cars and challenges drivers. It’s only two hours from Charlotte and since the ban on testing at all NASCAR-sanctioned tracks, teams need other tracks. Halesboro’s an ideal alternative. Dean’s willing to try it.”

This news didn’t merely surprise her, it came close to astonishing her. Dean Grosso, Kent’s father, was at least fifty and had been a top driver, close to legendary. He’d also just become owner of one of the most exciting teams in NASCAR. If he chose to test even a few times at Halesboro, the publicity for the speedway would be sensational.

“Dean Grosso?” she said in disbelief. “He’d have his team test
here?
Including Kent? A NASCAR Sprint Cup Series champion, just like his dad?”

“Including Kent and Roberto Castillo. Dean and his wife, Patsy, said they’d agree to attend a barbecue if we held one at the speedway. Dean and Kent would both be willing to meet fans and sign autographs.”

She struggled to control her rising excitement. “That’d be a moneymaker and a public relations coup to have such famous drivers. How did you arrange this all so fast?”

“I’ve helped the Grossos over the years. They’re willing to help me in return. So are some of the other drivers I represent. Justin Murphy, for one.”

“But you
just
bought the track. You talked this over with them beforehand?”

“It came up. We talked about it. Dean’s excited. He has fond memories of Halesboro. He always finished in the top ten when he raced here. Three times he finished first.”

“And you?” she asked. “Will you keep on being an agent? Or not?”

His expression grew wry. “Got to keep the day job, babe. It’ll take a steady flow of cash to get this place up and running again.”

In spite of her elation over the prospect of testing, she frowned. “You know, this ‘agent’ business is changing things. It could turn NASCAR into something like the NFL or pro basketball or—”

He reached over and gently laid his finger against her lips. “Shh. How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t fight change? It runs through everything like a life force. The town’s changed. The speedway’s changed. You and I have changed.”

He drew back his hand. Her mouth tingled and her cheeks burned, for she knew everyone in the café had probably seen him touch her that way.

“Let’s not get all philosophical,” she managed to return. “Right now I’m coping with an awful lot of change in my life. I’d like something that…abides.”

He gave her an odd look, as if trying to decode her words. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh, it doesn’t mean anything,” she said in frustration. “It’s been a long day, that’s all. I need to go home. To think. And get some rest.”

“Your car’s still working?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

She was too addled to even think of lying. “I…I…Clyde brought me here. Goblins ate my transmission. I’ll walk home. It’s nice out, and I could use some fresh air.”

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“No. Really. It’s not that far. And I
like
to walk.”

“Then I’ll go with you. A gentleman doesn’t let a lady walk in the dark alone…unprotected.”

Lori felt too emotionally drained to argue—and she remembered that he could argue like the very devil if he chose to. Her body was full of restless tingles, and she yearned to move, to outpace her nervousness.

Kane paid, left a tip, opened the door and stayed close to her as they stepped into the evening. Dusk was thickening and the streetlights shone. A gentle mountain breeze blew, cooling away the day’s heat.

Kane automatically set off in the direction of the house where she’d grown up. Did he think she was living there again? Did he really know how the debts had cost her almost everything, her parents’ home and her own, as well?

He’d find out soon enough, she thought. And the little house she rented was not many blocks beyond the big house she’d once taken for granted. Kane didn’t try to take her arm, and she was grateful.

She stole a peek at his shadowy profile. He
did
talk about
change too glibly for her taste. But he was right when he said he’d changed. In their teens, he’d usually looked like a half-wild boy with his shabby clothes, his shaggy hair and tattoos. But even back then, he had a slender elegance to him, the natural grace of a beautiful young animal. He still had it.