Death in the Fast Lane: Original Fic
as promised, here's my original fic, i wrote it back in '99 and it clocks in at 26,964 words. there will be a few parts, of course. hopefully, it will let me break it pretty much as i have in the original document. links will be crossposted in trystan830 as well.
All characters are created by me, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead, trust me, it's all a coincedence... ©1999
An auto racing murder mystery
~~ start your engines ~~
Journal of Josh MacIlheney
former crew chief and driver, Team Zero
I thought it best, at the expense of my sanity, that I keep this journal, and record the strange events that happened that racing season, about 5 years ago.
It was the last year they did the FastWheels Pole Bonus, and the year I came in 25th in the points, my best ever in the major league of stock car racing.
It was also the year Jason Carson, driver of the 62 Ford, won the last FastWheels Pole Bonus offered at the Georgia 500, and his first championship in the four seasons he’d been racing. I say it that way, because back then, Blaine Sherard, the best thing since restrictor plates, dominated his first three years in the FastWheels circuit, the highest level of stock car racing.
I was Blaine’s crew chief for the three and change seasons he drove for owner Jasper Lawton. Blaine drove the 0 car for the FastWheels circuit; I drove the 0 car for Jasper in the minor league, the Pontiac Junior circuit. I probably knew Blaine better than anyone, even though we all knew him to be a jerk.
To be precise, he was a young, bratty driver who thought he could do anything. He loved the fast cars and the women, but he was a good racer despite all that. He was obnoxious, brash, and pitched a fit if he didn’t place in the top five. He always credited himself with the win, never me nor any other of the crew. Not even Jasper.
So why did we stay with him? He was the winningest driver in those three years, and he was where the money was. Jasper and the team paid us good money, and that was why we stayed. He also threw the best victory parties, with all the drink and fixings one could ask for.
He also tended to overdo it after every party, and had to be sobered up before we moved to the next track, where if he won, he repeated the entire process all over again.
So, it really came as no surprise, when a little over a third of the way through that season, Blaine missed his first driver’s meeting ever....
~~ green flag ~~
Charlotte Motor Speedway
May; Friday afternoon
“Did you see that?” one of the crew members commented. “Blaine sure as hell broke that record.”
“Sure did. Blaine is the man.”
The crew of Team Zero was watching Blaine Sherard zip around Charlotte Motor Speedway at a record-breaking speed of 186.541 miles per hour, breaking the old record of 185.759, a couple of years back.
It was now clear that Blaine would start the FastWheels 600 on the pole, with his teammate Darrell Kent right beside him.
Blaine and Darrell had been racing together for the past three seasons for Jasper Lawton. Lawton was a fair man, who believed in giving everyone a fair chance. Lately, Darrell had begun to wonder about that.
The FastWheels 600 was held at Charlotte every Memorial Day weekend. Recently, track and race officials had changed the starting time to one in the afternoon. They seemed to think there would be a better turnout in the afternoon than in the evening. But based on the history of the sport, the stands would be filled no matter what time the race started.
One of those fans was Tim Sherard, Blaine’s father. Tim was at every qualifying and race that Blaine ran at Charlotte, which coincided with Tim’s vacation time. Tim would also be there that weekend to see his son start on the pole.
That year, as every year, there was an incentive bonus. The bonus money was called the FastWheels Pole Bonus, sponsored by Glen Robert’s main racing sponsor, FastWheels. The racing association earmarked six million dollars for this bonus, one million at six different races.
It was a difficult bonus to win. The way it worked was that the winner of the last race of the previous season had to start the Daytona 500 on the pole, and win.
Victoria Layne Roberts, Glen’s daughter, did just that. She was a second year driver that season, and the Daytona 500 win meant a lot to her. In a sport mostly dominated by men, Layne, as she liked to be called, felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
For Layne to get the next bonus, she’d have to be on the pole and win at the next designated race, the Texas 500. Although Layne finished just outside the top five, she was glad to see the win go to another woman driver, Kim Emeric. Kim won the Pontiac Junior Division Championship the year before by only one point.
But Kim’s 51 Soft Squeeze Toilet Paper Ford didn’t do well in practice at Charlotte, and now there was no way to beat the Greased Lightning Chevy of Team Zero.
It was Friday afternoon, and qualifying was just about over. Some of the drivers were in the garage, adjusting their cars, and fine-tuning the engines, and then covering them up overnight. The cars would probably have to be tweaked again the next afternoon, for the final round of practice for the big event Sunday.
Most of the drivers, and some crew members, gathered near Jason Carson’s motor home.
Jason Carson, driver of the 62 Ford, was also the resident stand-up comic, trickster, and magician. Tonight, to alleviate some of the stress on the drivers, he was performing some of his stand-up.
“So when I got pulled over last week, I asked the cop if he knew who I was. He says, ‘Yeah, you’re the guy who finished third in the race, right?’ I said, ‘Yeah, you were there?’ So he writes me out a ticket anyway, for 165 bucks! Then he says, ‘I’ll take it back if ya win a little race. Just you and me, down the highway.’ I’m thinking, a cop who wants to race? He gets back in the car, and I leave him in the dust!”
Everyone laughed.
“When he catches up to me, and rips the ticket into pieces, he tells me I need a restrictor plate in my street car!”
More laughter from the crowd. A voice called out, “I didn’t find that funny.” It was Blaine Sherard.
“That’s ‘cause you can’t take a joke, Blaine.” Jason called back. “And you came in 10th last week. You’ll get over it.”
“Very funny.” Blaine muttered. “And I can too take a joke.” He returned to his own motor home.
“Can you do a magic trick, Jase?” called out a voice, that Jason recognized as Mitchell Luckas, driver of the 69 Pontiac, and Layne Roberts’ teammate.
“Can you do the one where you make Blaine disappear?”
Laughter broke out that could have been heard across the track.
Charlotte Motor Speedway
May; Friday evening
“Hey Karla, isn’t the garage closed now?” Griff Hunter asked the petite redhead in the mechanic’s jumpsuit.
“Yeah, It is. I guess I lost track of time, hiding under the hood like that.”
In truth, the garage was just closing. Karla made it seem like it was late at night, when it was just in time for dinner.
“Uhm, can I take you into town for dinner?” Griff asked. He was somewhat of the shy type years ago, until he found Nate Carson, who owned a racing team. Five years ago, Griff was Carson’s star driver, in the 92 Dragon Fire Beer Ford. Now that Nate’s sons, Jason and Jordan had been racing these past three years, Griff was relegated to the back burner. Jason was Nate’s favorite now.
But the darling of motor sports was that Blaine Sherard guy.
Karla Langston was Griff Hunter’s crew chief. When she wasn’t playing with Griff’s car, she was fine-tuning his Harley that he rode when he wasn’t in the car. In the garage and under the hood, she could talk to him about anything. But this, a date? She worked for him, wasn’t that harassment or something?
“Just a quick bite. I’m famished, and this place is closed.”
A quick bite seemed ok to her. “Ok. Can I change?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you back at the trailer in 10 minutes.”
She left in one direction back to the motor home of the 92 team, and Griff wandered off the other direction, not sure of where he was going. There was something he wanted to talk to Karla about - Blaine Sherard.
Everyone at the track knew Blaine was a ladies’ man. There were even rumors he was sleeping with the wife of one of the drivers.
Karla was recommended by Nate two years ago, and Griff and Karla were quite a team. This season alone, out of 11 races, they had eight top tens, and 2 top fives. And one of those was a win two races ago. And the way Blaine glared at Griff, when Blaine came in third, was enough to turn the painted flames on Griff’s car to ice. The most disturbing thing that Griff wanted to talk to Karla about was the way Blaine was looking at Karla.
In the two years Karla was with the 92 team, Griff had come to care about her, and it didn’t matter if she was a woman, doing what was generally a man’s job. After working with her week after week for two years... Ah, who was he kidding? He was falling in love, if he didn’t already love her.
If he saw Blaine talking to her, Griff’s blood would boil. Several times, he’d seen her laugh at something Blaine said, but it was a “polite” laugh, as if what was said really wasn’t all that funny, and Karla didn’t want to hurt Blaine’s feelings.
Blaine, according to Karla, was the type of guy who was great-looking, and knew it. It made the man all the more arrogant, and always getting his way. Griff thought Blaine was just a big baby.
~*~
Karla loved being on the bike, especially behind Griff. He was muscular, and from what she’d seen around the garage, he could probably lift a car if someone couldn’t find the jack.
He was an all-around great guy, with great looks too. Those piercing green eyes and his long blond hair were enough to make Karla forget everything she was doing whenever she saw Griff.
How unlike Griff Blaine was, she thought. Blaine was good-looking, knew it, and flaunted it. Blaine thought that he was God’s gift to woman, and everyone loved him. If the rumors were right, there was only someone else’s wife. And that was pretty pathetic, Karla thought.
As she rode on Griff’s bike, she thought of the favor she was going to ask of Griff.
~*~
“Just a quick bite” turned out to be dinner at a local Italian restaurant. Everything on the menu looked scrumptious.
After the waitress took their order, Griff and Karla just stared. This was, after all, a first date.
“I need to ask - ” Griff started.
“I have a favor - ” Karla said at the same time.
“You go first,” Griff offered.
“No, you go. But I think I know what it’s about.”
“You do?” When Karla nodded, Griff continued. “I want you to stay away from Blaine.” Griff’s voice was almost deadpan.
“I was going to ask you to help me keep Blaine away from me. Pretend you’re my boyfriend or something.”
“Pretend?” Griff’s eyebrows went up. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard.”
“We can’t really,” she started to explain. “Wouldn’t someone think that’s sexual harassment?”
“Why’s that?”
The meal came, and when the waitress left, they continued.
“You pay me. I work for you.”
“No, Nate pays us both. I go out there and get the money to pay both of us. No,” he said, putting down his fork, reaching across the table, and placing it on her hand. “I don’t think we’ll have to pretend.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Karla said.
They smiled at each other, and proceeded to finish the wonderful dinner.
Charlotte Motor Speedway
May; Friday night
“That upstart drives me crazy!” Mitchell Luckas told his teammate, Layne Roberts, at the motor home of Layne and her father, Glen. Layne drove the 13 FastWheels Pontiac, sponsor of the FastWheels Pole Bonus, so it was only fitting she won the first one this year back at Daytona.
It was now only the twelfth race of the season, and it felt like Daytona was years away. Three years ago, her father was out-raced by that upstart at the Daytona 500, and again, time after time that season. Finally, Glen had enough, and last year, passed the car onto his daughter. And Layne held her own, and finished 10th in the standings, the highest of any rookie that year. Now, Layne sat at the small table, and Mitchell had his feet up on the couch.
“I know what you mean. He’s always after me - I swear it’s like I’m back in high school with all the guys running after me - ‘Vic, will you go out with me?’ And only Father calls me Vic anyway. But Blaine, he thinks we’re still high school age.” She looked over at Mitchell. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You were venting?”
“I’ve been racing since he was in high school. You know, I had three wins in the six years before he showed up?” Mitchell pointed out.
“Yeah, I was your crew chief, too, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I was the hottest driver the year before Blaine shows up. I won the championship that year. What have I won since then? One lousy race each year. And if things don’t change, that last race two weeks ago it is for this year.”
“Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. I’m sure you’ll win again this season.”
“Yeah, right. If Blaine has anything to say about it, he’ll win the rest of them.”
“Maybe he’ll disappear, like someone suggested to Jason.”
Mitchell tossed a sofa pillow at Layne. She caught it, laughed, and then sent it flying back to her teammate.
Maybe Blaine was just a bad dream? she thought.
~*~
Blaine, and his crew chief, Josh MacIlheney, drove into town with Darrell Kent, and his sister Lara. Lara was also her brother’s crew chief. And everyone worked for Lawton.
They stopped at the local Checkered Flag Cafe Bar and Grille.
“Are you sure we wanna eat here?” Blaine said. “This is Taylor’s sponsor.”
He referred to Taylor Ellison, driver of the 96 Checkered Flag Cafe Bar and Grille Chevy, who also drove for Lawton. Taylor was the only woman driver on the Lawton team, and Blaine never quite accepted that.
“So?” asked Darrell. “She’s our teammate. And besides, where else can you get a free meal? They know who we are.”
“Party of four for MacIlheney,” Josh said to the hostess when they arrived.
“MacIlheney? Who the hell knows that name?” Blaine sneered at his crew chief. “You’re supposed to give them my name,” he corrected.
“Whatever,” Josh seemed unperturbed by Blaine’s childishness. Josh was used to it. Whenever Blaine won, it was I won, and my car was running great, and I’m a great driver, and me this and me that. It wasn’t just Blaine who won, it was the whole Team Zero. And at that, Josh chuckled.
“Care to share?” Blaine demanded.
“No,” Josh said softly, determined not to let Blaine push him too far. It was the irony of the number that Josh laughed at. A “zero” was a nothing, and Team Zero was at the top of the points right now.
For three years I stood by while he thanked no one, Josh thought. Why should I let it bother me now? I know what it’s like to drive, and win. I’ve won in Pontiac Juniors a few times. Gary Allen is my guy to credit. He’s one hell of a crew chief, Josh thought. And as long as I credit him, I feel better myself.
“He’s staring at me, Darrell,” Lara whispered to her brother without attracting any attention.
“Who?” Darrell asked, even though he thought he knew.
“Blaine. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. And he’s done it before too. On the track, in the garage...it gives me the creeps.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ve been after him since we started here, remember?”
“Yeah, you were second in the points three years ago, and he won his first points championship as a rookie.”
“He beat me by two lousy points,” Darrell sounded bitter. They had both started the FastWheels circuit the same year. That really bothered Darrell. That a rookie would win the points championship was unheard of until three years ago.
“It was one of your more competitive seasons, Darr,” Lara pointed out.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Darrell conceded.
“Hey! What are you two yapping about? We’re being seated,” Blaine cut in on the brother-sister conversation.
Darrell whispered to Lara as they followed Blaine and Josh to a table near the bar, “We can’t get Jason to deliver on that magic trick he promised, can we?”
Part II: Charlotte Motor Speedway: Quals & Race Day; the Aftermath
-
All characters are created by me, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead, trust me, it's all a coincedence... ©1999
An auto racing murder mystery
~~ start your engines ~~
Journal of Josh MacIlheney
former crew chief and driver, Team Zero
I thought it best, at the expense of my sanity, that I keep this journal, and record the strange events that happened that racing season, about 5 years ago.
It was the last year they did the FastWheels Pole Bonus, and the year I came in 25th in the points, my best ever in the major league of stock car racing.
It was also the year Jason Carson, driver of the 62 Ford, won the last FastWheels Pole Bonus offered at the Georgia 500, and his first championship in the four seasons he’d been racing. I say it that way, because back then, Blaine Sherard, the best thing since restrictor plates, dominated his first three years in the FastWheels circuit, the highest level of stock car racing.
I was Blaine’s crew chief for the three and change seasons he drove for owner Jasper Lawton. Blaine drove the 0 car for the FastWheels circuit; I drove the 0 car for Jasper in the minor league, the Pontiac Junior circuit. I probably knew Blaine better than anyone, even though we all knew him to be a jerk.
To be precise, he was a young, bratty driver who thought he could do anything. He loved the fast cars and the women, but he was a good racer despite all that. He was obnoxious, brash, and pitched a fit if he didn’t place in the top five. He always credited himself with the win, never me nor any other of the crew. Not even Jasper.
So why did we stay with him? He was the winningest driver in those three years, and he was where the money was. Jasper and the team paid us good money, and that was why we stayed. He also threw the best victory parties, with all the drink and fixings one could ask for.
He also tended to overdo it after every party, and had to be sobered up before we moved to the next track, where if he won, he repeated the entire process all over again.
So, it really came as no surprise, when a little over a third of the way through that season, Blaine missed his first driver’s meeting ever....
~~ green flag ~~
Charlotte Motor Speedway
May; Friday afternoon
“Did you see that?” one of the crew members commented. “Blaine sure as hell broke that record.”
“Sure did. Blaine is the man.”
The crew of Team Zero was watching Blaine Sherard zip around Charlotte Motor Speedway at a record-breaking speed of 186.541 miles per hour, breaking the old record of 185.759, a couple of years back.
It was now clear that Blaine would start the FastWheels 600 on the pole, with his teammate Darrell Kent right beside him.
Blaine and Darrell had been racing together for the past three seasons for Jasper Lawton. Lawton was a fair man, who believed in giving everyone a fair chance. Lately, Darrell had begun to wonder about that.
The FastWheels 600 was held at Charlotte every Memorial Day weekend. Recently, track and race officials had changed the starting time to one in the afternoon. They seemed to think there would be a better turnout in the afternoon than in the evening. But based on the history of the sport, the stands would be filled no matter what time the race started.
One of those fans was Tim Sherard, Blaine’s father. Tim was at every qualifying and race that Blaine ran at Charlotte, which coincided with Tim’s vacation time. Tim would also be there that weekend to see his son start on the pole.
That year, as every year, there was an incentive bonus. The bonus money was called the FastWheels Pole Bonus, sponsored by Glen Robert’s main racing sponsor, FastWheels. The racing association earmarked six million dollars for this bonus, one million at six different races.
It was a difficult bonus to win. The way it worked was that the winner of the last race of the previous season had to start the Daytona 500 on the pole, and win.
Victoria Layne Roberts, Glen’s daughter, did just that. She was a second year driver that season, and the Daytona 500 win meant a lot to her. In a sport mostly dominated by men, Layne, as she liked to be called, felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
For Layne to get the next bonus, she’d have to be on the pole and win at the next designated race, the Texas 500. Although Layne finished just outside the top five, she was glad to see the win go to another woman driver, Kim Emeric. Kim won the Pontiac Junior Division Championship the year before by only one point.
But Kim’s 51 Soft Squeeze Toilet Paper Ford didn’t do well in practice at Charlotte, and now there was no way to beat the Greased Lightning Chevy of Team Zero.
It was Friday afternoon, and qualifying was just about over. Some of the drivers were in the garage, adjusting their cars, and fine-tuning the engines, and then covering them up overnight. The cars would probably have to be tweaked again the next afternoon, for the final round of practice for the big event Sunday.
Most of the drivers, and some crew members, gathered near Jason Carson’s motor home.
Jason Carson, driver of the 62 Ford, was also the resident stand-up comic, trickster, and magician. Tonight, to alleviate some of the stress on the drivers, he was performing some of his stand-up.
“So when I got pulled over last week, I asked the cop if he knew who I was. He says, ‘Yeah, you’re the guy who finished third in the race, right?’ I said, ‘Yeah, you were there?’ So he writes me out a ticket anyway, for 165 bucks! Then he says, ‘I’ll take it back if ya win a little race. Just you and me, down the highway.’ I’m thinking, a cop who wants to race? He gets back in the car, and I leave him in the dust!”
Everyone laughed.
“When he catches up to me, and rips the ticket into pieces, he tells me I need a restrictor plate in my street car!”
More laughter from the crowd. A voice called out, “I didn’t find that funny.” It was Blaine Sherard.
“That’s ‘cause you can’t take a joke, Blaine.” Jason called back. “And you came in 10th last week. You’ll get over it.”
“Very funny.” Blaine muttered. “And I can too take a joke.” He returned to his own motor home.
“Can you do a magic trick, Jase?” called out a voice, that Jason recognized as Mitchell Luckas, driver of the 69 Pontiac, and Layne Roberts’ teammate.
“Can you do the one where you make Blaine disappear?”
Laughter broke out that could have been heard across the track.
Charlotte Motor Speedway
May; Friday evening
“Hey Karla, isn’t the garage closed now?” Griff Hunter asked the petite redhead in the mechanic’s jumpsuit.
“Yeah, It is. I guess I lost track of time, hiding under the hood like that.”
In truth, the garage was just closing. Karla made it seem like it was late at night, when it was just in time for dinner.
“Uhm, can I take you into town for dinner?” Griff asked. He was somewhat of the shy type years ago, until he found Nate Carson, who owned a racing team. Five years ago, Griff was Carson’s star driver, in the 92 Dragon Fire Beer Ford. Now that Nate’s sons, Jason and Jordan had been racing these past three years, Griff was relegated to the back burner. Jason was Nate’s favorite now.
But the darling of motor sports was that Blaine Sherard guy.
Karla Langston was Griff Hunter’s crew chief. When she wasn’t playing with Griff’s car, she was fine-tuning his Harley that he rode when he wasn’t in the car. In the garage and under the hood, she could talk to him about anything. But this, a date? She worked for him, wasn’t that harassment or something?
“Just a quick bite. I’m famished, and this place is closed.”
A quick bite seemed ok to her. “Ok. Can I change?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you back at the trailer in 10 minutes.”
She left in one direction back to the motor home of the 92 team, and Griff wandered off the other direction, not sure of where he was going. There was something he wanted to talk to Karla about - Blaine Sherard.
Everyone at the track knew Blaine was a ladies’ man. There were even rumors he was sleeping with the wife of one of the drivers.
Karla was recommended by Nate two years ago, and Griff and Karla were quite a team. This season alone, out of 11 races, they had eight top tens, and 2 top fives. And one of those was a win two races ago. And the way Blaine glared at Griff, when Blaine came in third, was enough to turn the painted flames on Griff’s car to ice. The most disturbing thing that Griff wanted to talk to Karla about was the way Blaine was looking at Karla.
In the two years Karla was with the 92 team, Griff had come to care about her, and it didn’t matter if she was a woman, doing what was generally a man’s job. After working with her week after week for two years... Ah, who was he kidding? He was falling in love, if he didn’t already love her.
If he saw Blaine talking to her, Griff’s blood would boil. Several times, he’d seen her laugh at something Blaine said, but it was a “polite” laugh, as if what was said really wasn’t all that funny, and Karla didn’t want to hurt Blaine’s feelings.
Blaine, according to Karla, was the type of guy who was great-looking, and knew it. It made the man all the more arrogant, and always getting his way. Griff thought Blaine was just a big baby.
~*~
Karla loved being on the bike, especially behind Griff. He was muscular, and from what she’d seen around the garage, he could probably lift a car if someone couldn’t find the jack.
He was an all-around great guy, with great looks too. Those piercing green eyes and his long blond hair were enough to make Karla forget everything she was doing whenever she saw Griff.
How unlike Griff Blaine was, she thought. Blaine was good-looking, knew it, and flaunted it. Blaine thought that he was God’s gift to woman, and everyone loved him. If the rumors were right, there was only someone else’s wife. And that was pretty pathetic, Karla thought.
As she rode on Griff’s bike, she thought of the favor she was going to ask of Griff.
~*~
“Just a quick bite” turned out to be dinner at a local Italian restaurant. Everything on the menu looked scrumptious.
After the waitress took their order, Griff and Karla just stared. This was, after all, a first date.
“I need to ask - ” Griff started.
“I have a favor - ” Karla said at the same time.
“You go first,” Griff offered.
“No, you go. But I think I know what it’s about.”
“You do?” When Karla nodded, Griff continued. “I want you to stay away from Blaine.” Griff’s voice was almost deadpan.
“I was going to ask you to help me keep Blaine away from me. Pretend you’re my boyfriend or something.”
“Pretend?” Griff’s eyebrows went up. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard.”
“We can’t really,” she started to explain. “Wouldn’t someone think that’s sexual harassment?”
“Why’s that?”
The meal came, and when the waitress left, they continued.
“You pay me. I work for you.”
“No, Nate pays us both. I go out there and get the money to pay both of us. No,” he said, putting down his fork, reaching across the table, and placing it on her hand. “I don’t think we’ll have to pretend.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Karla said.
They smiled at each other, and proceeded to finish the wonderful dinner.
Charlotte Motor Speedway
May; Friday night
“That upstart drives me crazy!” Mitchell Luckas told his teammate, Layne Roberts, at the motor home of Layne and her father, Glen. Layne drove the 13 FastWheels Pontiac, sponsor of the FastWheels Pole Bonus, so it was only fitting she won the first one this year back at Daytona.
It was now only the twelfth race of the season, and it felt like Daytona was years away. Three years ago, her father was out-raced by that upstart at the Daytona 500, and again, time after time that season. Finally, Glen had enough, and last year, passed the car onto his daughter. And Layne held her own, and finished 10th in the standings, the highest of any rookie that year. Now, Layne sat at the small table, and Mitchell had his feet up on the couch.
“I know what you mean. He’s always after me - I swear it’s like I’m back in high school with all the guys running after me - ‘Vic, will you go out with me?’ And only Father calls me Vic anyway. But Blaine, he thinks we’re still high school age.” She looked over at Mitchell. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You were venting?”
“I’ve been racing since he was in high school. You know, I had three wins in the six years before he showed up?” Mitchell pointed out.
“Yeah, I was your crew chief, too, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I was the hottest driver the year before Blaine shows up. I won the championship that year. What have I won since then? One lousy race each year. And if things don’t change, that last race two weeks ago it is for this year.”
“Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. I’m sure you’ll win again this season.”
“Yeah, right. If Blaine has anything to say about it, he’ll win the rest of them.”
“Maybe he’ll disappear, like someone suggested to Jason.”
Mitchell tossed a sofa pillow at Layne. She caught it, laughed, and then sent it flying back to her teammate.
Maybe Blaine was just a bad dream? she thought.
~*~
Blaine, and his crew chief, Josh MacIlheney, drove into town with Darrell Kent, and his sister Lara. Lara was also her brother’s crew chief. And everyone worked for Lawton.
They stopped at the local Checkered Flag Cafe Bar and Grille.
“Are you sure we wanna eat here?” Blaine said. “This is Taylor’s sponsor.”
He referred to Taylor Ellison, driver of the 96 Checkered Flag Cafe Bar and Grille Chevy, who also drove for Lawton. Taylor was the only woman driver on the Lawton team, and Blaine never quite accepted that.
“So?” asked Darrell. “She’s our teammate. And besides, where else can you get a free meal? They know who we are.”
“Party of four for MacIlheney,” Josh said to the hostess when they arrived.
“MacIlheney? Who the hell knows that name?” Blaine sneered at his crew chief. “You’re supposed to give them my name,” he corrected.
“Whatever,” Josh seemed unperturbed by Blaine’s childishness. Josh was used to it. Whenever Blaine won, it was I won, and my car was running great, and I’m a great driver, and me this and me that. It wasn’t just Blaine who won, it was the whole Team Zero. And at that, Josh chuckled.
“Care to share?” Blaine demanded.
“No,” Josh said softly, determined not to let Blaine push him too far. It was the irony of the number that Josh laughed at. A “zero” was a nothing, and Team Zero was at the top of the points right now.
For three years I stood by while he thanked no one, Josh thought. Why should I let it bother me now? I know what it’s like to drive, and win. I’ve won in Pontiac Juniors a few times. Gary Allen is my guy to credit. He’s one hell of a crew chief, Josh thought. And as long as I credit him, I feel better myself.
“He’s staring at me, Darrell,” Lara whispered to her brother without attracting any attention.
“Who?” Darrell asked, even though he thought he knew.
“Blaine. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. And he’s done it before too. On the track, in the garage...it gives me the creeps.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ve been after him since we started here, remember?”
“Yeah, you were second in the points three years ago, and he won his first points championship as a rookie.”
“He beat me by two lousy points,” Darrell sounded bitter. They had both started the FastWheels circuit the same year. That really bothered Darrell. That a rookie would win the points championship was unheard of until three years ago.
“It was one of your more competitive seasons, Darr,” Lara pointed out.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Darrell conceded.
“Hey! What are you two yapping about? We’re being seated,” Blaine cut in on the brother-sister conversation.
Darrell whispered to Lara as they followed Blaine and Josh to a table near the bar, “We can’t get Jason to deliver on that magic trick he promised, can we?”
Part II: Charlotte Motor Speedway: Quals & Race Day; the Aftermath
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