Stick Shift (11 page)

Lily wasn't pretentious and seemed to actually like the whole group of guys.

She wasn't intimidated by any of them, and while she had been bothered by his fame and fortune at first, that seemed to have disappeared in the days since. Their age difference was still a big deal to her, though, and he still wasn't sure how to get past that part of her unease. He couldn't care less how old she was or how many years separated them. He only wanted to be with her.

Ronnie led his guys up the steps behind the stage, and Cam pulled up the rear.

Everyone was getting into race mode, smiles easing away into thoughtful seriousness. He really liked that about them. They might play around like a bunch of kids, but they were as tough as nails and always gave 100 percent when it came to their jobs.

His crew was announced and the booing started. He couldn't help but laugh.

He had die-hard fans, but he had die-hard haters too. That was fine. He happened to like it that way. They never let him get too cocky, but he loved making them eat crow every time he won a race.

His name was called. The boos picked up and drowned out the cheers.

Stepping into view, he lifted his arms over his head with his index fingers extended in a gesture of number one. The booing got louder, and his grin got bigger. He loved this. This would spur him on for the rest of the night. He would race every lap as though it were his last, making sure to give the lovers and the haters a show to remember.

“You ready to race?”

Cam looked at Mike, one of his tire changers. The kid had a shit-eating grin on his face that Cam returned full force. “Hell yeah.”

“That girl coming tonight?”

“Yep. She should be at the pit box.”

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“You sure she never played pool before the other night?”

“Nope.”

Billy shrugged. “Well, no matter. I want a rematch next week.”

“You get to tell her, then. I don't want to be in that conversation. She beat you fair and square.”

“Maybe, but I just think it was beginner's luck.”

Cam laughed, wondering if Mike wasn't barking up the wrong tree by challenging the woman who had beat the snot out of him in two games of pool when none of the crew had ever been able to beat him before.

They were in the third pit stall with Marcus Cole and David Greer in front of and behind him respectively. Neither particularly liked him, but neither had a beef with him either. He was used to it. His teammate was in the middle of pit road and was one of the new darlings of the sport. He never had been loved like that, so he didn't know what being so well liked right out of the starting gate was like. He didn't care much anymore either.

He was proving to everyone, including himself, that he was worthy of being there, of being in the top five every week, of being a champion one day. He still had a lot to learn, but he wasn't above that. He enjoyed it actually. He just didn't appreciate being treated as though he didn't know shit by the veterans in the business.

“Hey, Cam.”

Cam looked up when Ronnie called his name and smiled. She was there. Lily was standing behind the wall next to Ronnie. There were people around watching, wondering who she was as he walked up to her, but he didn't care. He'd answer questions later or never; it didn't matter. All that mattered was her.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, leaning in for a kiss. She immediately blushed bright red and tried to turn her head so his lips grazed her cheek. Cam wasn't having any of that. He put his hand on her neck with his thumb under her chin and held her 8
head still, placing a solid, lip-to-lip kiss on her mouth. When he pulled back, he smiled and hugged her. “Don't turn away like that. I'm not embarrassed, and you shouldn't be either. I'm glad you're here.”

“People will talk,” she whispered against his neck but wrapped her arms around him just the same.

It felt good to hold her. “I don't care if they talk. Let them. You're here, and I'm happy.”

“Break it up, boys and girls. We have a race to run.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Cam pulled back and winked at her, then looked over her shoulder at her friend, Alli, if he remembered the name correctly. She was staring at him and Lily as though she'd never seen a public display of affection before. But then, maybe she hadn't seen Lily in one so blatant. “Hey,” he said to her, holding out his hand in greeting. She was wearing the shirt he'd autographed for her, and took his hand.

“Hi.”

A low whistle came from behind him, and he turned to see Grant, his jack man, staring straight at Alli. The woman, in turn, grinned brightly. Damn. Just like that, Grant was going to get lucky after the race. Women didn't turn him down.

Ever.

He leaned over and pecked Lily on the lips again, then turned and walked over to the car, playfully bumping into Grant on the way. “You dog.”

“Woof, woof.”

Cam laughed and climbed in through the window, settling down into his seat.

His safety belts and harnesses were summarily latched before he took his helmet from the hook in the roof of the car and put it on. Ronnie climbed up on the pit box, and Lily followed. Alli stayed on the ground, Grant whispering to her, making her blush and laugh.

“You got me, Cam?”

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Ronnie's voice in his ear brought him back to the task at hand. “Yeah, I got ya.”

“Good. Your girl is here, so let's concentrate on the race now.”

“I know. You got her a headset?” Cam could hardly contain his excitement.

“You act like I've never done this before.”

“You haven't. Not like this. She's important.”

“I know. I'll make sure she's all taken care of.”

Time to get down to it. “I hope these guys around us are on top of things tonight. I don't want anyone getting hurt like down in Atlanta, and I don't want to have to show them we mean business.”

“I'm sure they know, and I'm sure they're just as nervous about being around you as anyone else generally is.”

“You make it sound like I strike fear in them.”

“You? Nah. You're as calm and tame as a pussycat.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Exactly. And hey, let's keep it clean tonight. We don't want the powers that be on us for something as dumb as our language. Watch your pit speed. It's forty-five at this track. Under caution is fifty-five. Don't cross the commitment cone unless you intend to come down pit road. Let's keep the mistakes to a minimum tonight.”

Ronnie delivered the same speech before each and every race. It helped focus everyone, put them in the right frame of mind, and brought them all down to earth.

He turned his head and saw Ronnie hand headsets to both Lily and Allison, instructing them on how to use them to hear him, Ronnie, and his spotter, H.J.

Something about her being there, watching and hearing him, settled him in a way he hadn't felt before. He liked it. Was that the same way the other guys felt when their wives and girlfriends joined them? He'd never had a serious girl at the races.

He'd always known racing was going to be his life, but since meeting Lily, well, she was going to be his life too. She wouldn't ask him to give it up; she wouldn't ask 8
him to put her above it either. He knew the travel and the hectic schedule could be a bitch, but he wanted her with him. He'd been serious when he'd told her he wanted to take her on the road. They wouldn't be leaving until the beginning of June, and he was counting on the next couple of weeks to convince her to give the trip a try.

“Here we go.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and fans, please join me in giving the command for tonight's race.”

A loud cheer went up, including from Lily and Alli. It was probably a good thing they didn't have microphones in their headsets.

“Gentlemen, start your engines.”

The command gave him goose bumps just like every week when the engines around him fired up. He flipped the ignition switch, and his engine roared to life.

Tunnel vision kicked in, and all thought fled save for what he was there to do: race.

It was in his blood. He didn't know how since no one else in his family raced, but it was part of him. The rush of speed, the adrenaline, the high powered horses under the hood, the risk, the drama of being out on a track with forty other drivers going two hundred miles per hour and all fighting for the same thing: their own spot in history and that checkered flag.

Being a professional race car driver was something not very many people in the world ever achieved. Doing it well and surviving for years in the sport were something even fewer people got to do. He'd been in the sport all his life, at the top level for the last few years, and he planned to stay there for at least the next twenty. It was all he had wanted to do. He didn't care about sponsors or owners or money. That had never been it for him. All he wanted to do was get behind the wheel and run. He'd have done it for free and tossed burgers if that's what it took.

Lucky for him though, he had what it took to get paid for doing what he loved.

Yeah, the rest came with it: being the face of a product or company, making public appearances, and endorsing charities or causes or people, sometimes even having to 83

kowtow to others just so he could get behind the wheel of the car. He wished there wasn't so much bureaucracy in racing, but he bit the bullet and, even to a point, understood all the rules that the powers that be threw down.

“Pedal to the metal, Cam. Bring me another flag.”

Cam rolled off pit road behind the cars starting first and second. He hated when qualifying was rained out. He would be starting third behind the leader, Jake Curtis, and they never got off to a good start together. One day they'd have to sit down and talk about it, find out why Jake couldn't seem to find the gas pedal when Cam was behind him.

“Five laps behind the pace car. Then we'll go green.”

“Gotcha.”

“How 'bout me, Cam?”

“Hey, H.J. I got you too, loud and clear.”

“Ten-four. I see we got some old friends as bookends here.”

“Seems like it.”

“Well, let's keep it clean and see if we can't come out on top.”

“That's the plan.”

Cam swerved left, then right, warming up his tires. He hoped they'd worked out the bugs from practice. Tight going into the corner and loose coming out of it didn't make racing much fun. He didn't want to have to fight the car until he could get into the pits. He wanted a smooth ride, clean air, and a victory fuck with Lily back in his bed at home after the race.

“What's the number of the car pitting in front of us?” He pressed the gas pedal and picked up a bit of speed, then backed down. They all gunned their engines a little here and there during caution laps but never went over the mandated speed of fifty-five.

“What number is Marcus?”

“Forty-seven.”

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“Still can't believe he's in a car. Who was the dipshit that gave him a ride?”

The question was a rhetorical one. Marcus Cole couldn't drive without wrecking himself and everyone around him. The man never finished a race, and why anyone would hire him to drive was beyond Cam's comprehension. He was a hothead out to prove something and was going to hurt someone someday in the process.

“ Don't know. Maybe he paid someone. One to go.”

“H.J., keep numbers in my head. Up to two back.”

“Got it.”

Cam lowered his visor, tightened the Velcro straps on his gloves, shifted in his seat, and readjusted his foot on the gas pedal. These small rituals kept his mind in the game, kept him on top of what he needed to do, put him further into “the zone.”

“You got twenty-three in front, eighteen coming up on the outside, sixteen behind you, and twenty behind eighteen.” H.J.'s voice was all business, and Cam appreciated it. His crew, his chief, and his spotter might be full of fun and jokes and teasing away from the track, but when it came to running the races, they were serious as serious could get.

Out of turn three and going into turn four, two lines of cars formed, Cam right behind the leader. No passing was allowed until they crossed the start/finish line, and he hoped to hell that Jake Curtis had his foot on the gas.

“Comin' to the line, Cam. Green, green, green.”

The green flag dropped, and the drivers picked up speed coming to the line.

Chills raced down Lily's spine. It was one of her favorite things in the world: stock car races. She loved the roar of the engines, the adrenaline pumping through her body, the cheering, the screaming, the cars bumping. The whole atmosphere touched a part of her that otherwise was very out of character. She didn't really care 85

for big, raucous crowds on a normal basis, and she didn't go to other sporting events. Rock concerts had never been high on her list of fun—the noises and smells were just not something she got into—but the races… She loved to lose herself at the races, and that she was a fan of Cam's… The looks that fans of other drivers gave her, the sneers, the jabs, the cursing they did when Cam brought home the checkered flag, and the grin she got to give them in return. She wasn't vengeful in her everyday life, but put her in the stands or in front of the television for a race, and she became a whole different person.

She wanted to stand up and scream for him but figured that wouldn't be appreciated, being up on the pit box and all. Instead she bit the inside of her cheek and watched with balled-up fists and tense shoulders.

Alli tapped her on the leg, and Lily turned her head and moved one headphone off her ear. She leaned close in order to hear what Alli wanted to say. The cars were going around so fast that there was hardly any sort of lull as there would have been at Talladega or Daytona. “What?”