Open Wheel

by Shey Stahl

  GIVEN THE NIGHT before, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it to Sarver without some coffee and sleep. I stopped off at a diner in town near the shop and had some breakfast, my thoughts and feelings all over the fucking place.

  So I fucked Arie last night—only hours ago—over and over, like I was seventeen again. I remembered in detail all five times. Only, it didn’t feel like I fucked her. After ten years, it was so much more than that. It was a feeling in my chest knowing she was my destiny.

  I was never going to convince her otherwise, but she belonged with me. Or could I convince her?

  Oh, I could, but would it be worth it?

  Could my heart handle it if she didn’t love me too? My heart had already been through enough. Like a tensed and overworked muscle, it would shake if it could just from holding on so tight, for so long.

  As I sat there at the coffee shop, hood up over my head, the sun shining down on me, the heat scorching my skin the way her breath did, I replayed it in my head.

  “Oh God, faster, Rager. Fuck me harder.”

  The memory sent a lurch of pain to my chest and a stir to my groin. How I would ever stop now was beyond my realm of understanding. It would never be enough.

  Shifting in the wooden chair, I willed the thoughts away, desperate to get her out of my head.

  My phone buzzed, catching my attention. Leaning forward, I looked at it briefly, noticing it was from Arie.

  I’m sorry.

  She was sorry? For what? Breaking my heart yet again? Fucking me and then telling me to leave? Or that she was still married? Was she going back to him?

  Again, words she said to me surfaced in my thoughts, kept my mind on her, only her. Words she said in the early parts of the morning as the sun leaked through the windows and warmed our bare skin.

  “I need you.” Her breath hit me, warmth I never knew existed bathing me.

  “Baby, you're killing me. I can’t. I have nothing left.”

  “You have me.”

  But did I have her? It didn’t feel that way. It felt like she was hiding me.

  Kind of like me on the day she married Easton.

  October 2023

  All I had to do was say something. It was that simple.

  Only it wasn’t. She wasn’t. We weren’t simple by any term. I had sat back for too long, missed my chance, twice. And now I could do something.

  Half-lit, I walked in, intending to say something. Anything. Maybe if she saw my stare, it’d be just that. Enough to let her know she was making a mistake.

  Dressed in a white dress, long hair flowing over her delicate shoulders, she looked breathtaking. Beyond words beautiful. But all this, all done up, wasn’t her. Arie Riley was a summer girl, flip-flops with dirty feet and messy hair wind-blown from the roar of a 410. She was a ripped navy blue tank top and worn stone washed shorts with a hole in the back right pocket. She was a too wild, too sexy, too much of anything for her own good. She was lazy-lidded eyes, dancing around a fire, slow-slipping tequila, and swaying to Zac Brown.

  Watching her with him, I hated his hand on the small of her back. I hated the way he was looking at my girl and the gentle touch he was providing. She didn’t want that. She wanted the roughness only I held being raised on this rush, my roughed-up version of love, my full throttle ways she always dreamed.

  Looking at her now, I knew this wasn’t the end of moonlight promises.

  She may have that ring on her finger, but it didn’t change anything. Someday I would be the one putting a ring on that finger, and it would stay there forever.

  I knew it. I knew it when I saw them dancing and her eyes found mine, a slow glance that lingered. Where was my midnight moonlight promise under a sticky night?

  Lane stood next to me at the bar, beer in hand; his shoulder bumped mine. “Couldn’t do it?”

  My chest tightened at his words, pain and confusion haunted me. Like a nightmare I’d never wake up from. I fucking let my girl marry another man, and I did nothing to stop it.

  “What was I gonna say? I’m the better guy?” I gave Lane that look, the one that told him I wasn’t. “We both know that’s not true.”

  “Cause you are the better guy.” Lane blew it off. “No one will love her like you do.”

  Lane thought, no, he believed I was a good person. If only he knew the truth. I wasn’t anything more than a racer, dirt-driven and single-minded. Arie deserved better than that.

  Arie was there, hand in hand, at a wedding table with him now. He wasn’t good enough for her. I didn’t care how good of a driver he was, or man, no one was good enough for that girl. Look at him, blissfully unaware of anything else around them. What he didn’t see was me.

  He would someday. She may have vowed him forever, but she couldn’t live up to that. Not when her heart belonged to me. We both knew it.

  Arie looked at me then, bathed in the light of twinkle lights. Everything she’d never said to me, words she wouldn’t say, was said in the way our stare locked. She knew. Yeah, fucking knew what she’d done. Regret pained her face, a slow blink, and then she darted her eyes back to him. This changed nothing. It couldn’t.

  Right then, I wanted to walk over there. Drop to my knees, beg her to see, beg her to believe. I didn’t give a damn who saw. I would’ve, if I thought she’d give me the chance I deserved.

  Half a bottle of whiskey later, I could hardly stand, so I leaned against the wall.

  “Hey, bud.” Jameson placed his hand on my back. “You look a little pale. You all right?”

  I couldn’t answer him. I wasn’t sure I could even speak, because if I opened my mouth, I might have puked right then.

  Sway helped me out. “Jameson…let him be. I think he’s had too much.”

  Too much was right. Looking at Sway, I knew she understood what was going on. Silently I begged her not to say anything to Jameson. The last thing I needed was for him to know I was hung up on his daughter.

  MY BIGGEST MISTAKE of the afternoon was stopping by the before heading back to Sarver. I wanted to get my racing suit so I could wash it. Every time I left it at the shop to get washed, it always ended up either shrunk or I was handed back the wrong suit. I did it myself to save me the headache.

  Once in the parking lot, I noticed Easton’s car, the very last person I wanted to see that morning. I sat in the parking lot next to his Mercedes, window rolled down and fresh, cool air blowing on my face, questioning if maybe I should get my suit later.

  Is it worth the fight? Is she?

  I didn’t want another confrontation today, but then again, I wasn’t fucking scared of him.

  Amongst the sleek cars ready to be loaded for Jackson, Jameson stood over a machine press. He turned when he saw me. “Hey, bud, thought you went home?”

  “Nah, stayed in town last night and had a drink with Axel.”

  “Oh yeah?” Turning back to the machine, he shut it down and crossed his arms over his chest. “That was nice of you.”

  Oh, and I fucked your daughter last night. And this morning. Actually, we never stopped.

  Shoving my hands in the pockets of my cargo shorts, I shrugged, a small raise of my shoulders. “I guess.”

  Closing my eyes, I had to fight the scenes playing out in my head of Arie last night and my real reason for staying.

  The sound of feet against pavement made me turn, and I wished I hadn’t.

  Every time I saw Easton, I wanted to knock his teeth out; it was my natural reaction to him. Couldn’t even tell you why. He could be a nice guy. Sure, could be was irrelevant if you asked me.

  Stepping away, I walked around the corner to where I left my bag the other night when I was in a hurry to go eat with the boys when we returned from Kansas.

  When I returned to the shop, Easton looked over Jameson’s shoulder, directly at me, lifting his sunglasses off his face. “Have you seen Arie around?”

  Fucker didn’t even have the decency to remove them when he was talking to Jameson.

  Easton wante
d my attention and you know, part of me didn’t even want to give him that. I wanted him to think I was indifferent to this, and him. I would pretend to be uninterested and the asshole I was projected to be. Everyone thought I was one, why not play the part, right?

  And then, because he mentioned her, he knew he had my attention.

  I wasn’t indifferent.

  I was in misery.

  He was asking about her, when really, there were so many more questions he had for me.

  Did you fuck my wife? That was one of them.

  Why does she love you and not me? Okay, maybe that wasn’t one of them, but surely it’d crossed his mind before.

  I don’t know what he was thinking right then, but I knew exactly what I was thinking. But I said none of that. “Does it look like it’s my day to watch your wife, Easton?”

  Jameson looked at me when he heard the hostility in my voice, his head tilted slightly, brows drawn together. Our eyes met for a moment before mine swept back to Easton.

  His face remained expressionless, but I knew I made him uncomfortable. “Excuse me?”

  “Having trouble keeping up with your wife…champ?”

  I really wanted to say chump instead of champ, but the motherfucker probably wouldn’t have noticed.

  There was way more fucking meaning behind that then a guy like Easton could understand.

  Easton inhaled a long, slow breath, and then exhaled it just as slowly, his jaw clenching.

  Easton took a step forward, his control remained, but I could tell what I said had pissed him off. It was meant to.

  Ask me if I’ve fucked her... Ask me.

  “If anyone knows where she is, it’s probably you, don’t you think, Rager? After all, you’ve been chasing her around for what…ten years? Says a lot about you as a person, don’t you think?” And then he winked.

  Did he fucking wink at me? Pussy.

  You could feel the change in the conversation at his words.

  The problem was, he had the satisfaction of knowing there was some truth to his statement. More truth than I wanted to admit.

  Jameson’s self-assured eyes moved from Easton to me, waiting on my reaction to that. My eyes swept over Easton, gauging his reaction.

  I sniffed with a laugh, my eyes dropping to the JAR Racing logo in the middle of the shop behind Easton. “Do you honestly think I give a goddamn what you think of me, Easton?” My eyes slowly rose from the logo to him, waiting.

  “Is this funny to you?” Easton asked, offended.

  I looked right past Jameson and at Easton. “I’m sorry, yeah, I think it’s a little funny.” I shrugged, appearing calm. “I think it’s funny that you don’t get it.”

  Jameson shook his head, reaching for my shoulder to push me back a couple inches. “Rager…maybe this isn’t the right time.”

  “Really? No, I think it’s the perfect time.” I turned to Easton, my voice a mixture of resentment and anger. “What is it that really bothers you about me?”

  Go ahead, tell me it’s because she loves me. Do it. I dare you to say the words out loud, you piece of shit.

  “You should care what I think about you.” He snorted, an act of his annoyance for me, pushing away from me. I wasn’t going to hit him.

  “Yeah?” My body tensed, waiting for his words, adrenaline giving my heart a kick. “Why’s that?”

  Easton glared, passion in his stare for what he knew wasn’t his any longer. “Because I’m married to the one person you can’t have, and that drives you crazy.”

  Closing my eyes, I contemplated what he said. I thought about it to the extent that I knew just how badly it did drive me crazy. “Drives me crazy?” Breathing in and out, I tried to calm myself down, though it did nothing at all. “Of course it drives me crazy. But I still don’t care what you think of me.”

  Jameson put his hand on my chest, backing me up. “Come on, man, calm down.”

  I can’t when it comes to her. Can’t you see?

  Easton’s jaw moved back and forth, contemplating. He saw some truth behind my words. I didn’t care what he thought. I cared what she thought.

  “I never had a fucking chance,” he mumbled, his shoulder bumping mine as he walked by, pausing a foot from me as his voice lowered to a whisper. “Don’t you see, I may have married her, but I never had a goddamn chance in hell at keeping her.”

  He hesitated for another moment, waiting to see if I’d say anymore, and then walked away.

  There was truth behind his words, too, because he may have slipped the ring on first, but despite that, I was determined to remove it.

  “What was that about?” Jameson asked, looking for an answer.

  I shrugged, smiling. “Nothin’.”

  Some people would tell me I was crazy for holding onto Arie the way I had all these years. Or even say she was crazy. The thing was, sure, she had a wild heart that wasn’t easy to take, or tame, but she wasn’t crazy, and neither was I. Arie would never be confined to a word like that. She was a feeling only she gave. She was a contrived heart destined to love me. A flame. A spark. Tender touches drying tormented tears of weakness and willing to burn alive for what she felt was right.

  My problem was, it changed nothing.

  I knew one thing, I should have never started this with her until that ring was permanently removed. I shouldn’t have started because of one simple fact.

  I couldn’t stop.

  Wing Angle - The wing angle is important for it to work efficiently. As the wing angle is increased, so is the downforce, however this also increases the aerodynamic drag. Too much drag will reduce the car’s speed down long straights, this is not as much of a concern on smaller or slick race tracks. Too much wing angle can also cause what is known as wing stall, this is where the extreme angle of the wing can cause the air to separate on the wing surface, creating turbulence. This turbulence will reduce the amount of downforce and increase drag. A top wing angle of around 22-24 degrees is a good starting point when trying to find the optimum angle.

  ALL I THOUGHT about was that night with Rager. It pulsed in my brain, flooded my every thought. It controlled my movements and took my words from my breath. It did that because for the first time, I had all of him, experienced what it could be, and then nothing.

  Over.

  But it wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.

  Regardless of me kicking him out after the best sex of my life and not talking to him for two days, it was still all I thought about.

  When we arrived in Grand Forks, North Dakota, I went straight to work. Trying to get entry forms ready and sometimes manning the merchandise hauler, I didn’t have a lot of time to hang out in the pits much, but I wasn’t unaware of his presence around me.

  In fact, it was all I could focus on.

  And then I ran into him. Like actually ran into him as I was coming around the corner from the concession stands and he was coming out of the bathrooms.

  “Hey,” I finally said, my hands on his chest to catch myself.

  He was looking at me with a hardened face and vacant eyes. “Hey,” he mumbled, lips barely moving as he grasped my hands on his chest, removing them as he backed up, and then let them fall to my sides.

  “Arie?” Jerry came around the corner to find us, hot dog loaded with onions and mustard in hand.

  Awesome. I have to smell your breath in the announcer’s booth for the next hour.

  “Yeah?” I turned to Jerry, stepping back from Rager.

  “What’s the order for the third heat?”

  Pulling my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, I looked down at the line-up, and then handed it to Jerry. In those five seconds it took me to do that, Rager disappeared, his head bent forward, shoulders hunched as he walked across the dusty pits of River Cities Speedway to his hauler.

  “I think that’s wrong.” Jerry pointed to my phone mid-bite as onions fell from his mouth. “Sweet qualified third. You have him in the second heat. He should be fourth in the third heat.”

/>   I knew that. I had no idea how it was calculated that way, but I fixed it and, lucky me, needed to go tell Rager. Being the coward I was right then, I told Lane.

  “Rager’s in the third heat.” I showed him my phone so he could see the line-up.

  Lane nodded, his eyes squinting, giving way to the late afternoon sun blinding him. “All right…I’ll tell him.”

  Saying nothing more to me, he walked over to Rager, who was now standing beside my dad, his arms crossed over his chest listening intently to the way Dad was describing the track’s conditions. “You’re in the next heat.”

  Rager turned, acknowledging Lane with a nod, then his attention drew back to my dad. Only he caught a glimpse of me, his stare returning, eyes lifting to mine. My heart gave a kick when he couldn’t turn back to my dad, like the sight of me standing there captivated him.

  He tried to listen to my dad.

  He tried.

  But neither one of us could try that hard.

  Oh God, that look. The scowl, the concentration in his blue eyes…

  I remembered exactly where I saw it that night, in the way he watched me moving underneath his body, overwhelmed with everything he provided for me.

  And then his stare was gone and the cold engulfed me when the heat vanished.

  ANY NIGHT AT a dirt track had a way of flying by like the cars on the track. Before I knew it, the heats were finished, the dash inversion had been decided, and I was sneaking back to the merchandise hauler to check on Hayden who’d been helping me out.

  With the sprint car haulers lined up along the back fence, there was a clear path for me to walk between the pits and the merchandise haulers without nearly being hit by the cars coming off the track.

  That was when I spotted Rager again, helmet in hand, going I had no idea where. The setting sun shined around him. The heat of the day was sticking to my skin and clothes. Pulling at my tank top, I tried to create a light breeze as I approached him.

  When I thought he’d walk right by me, he didn’t; instead he reached out for my hand, pulling me between the haulers.