by Eden Connor
“Too cheap to spring for the five bucks? Or got here with no cash?” I grinned.
Mom huffed. “Every lot’s full. We’re way, way down by those old exhibit halls near the old fairground gate.” She drilled a finger into my side. “Rick and Doris get me VIP parking, you know. Hannah-Built needs to step it up a notch.”
The apology shone in her eyes. My heart soared, but I snorted. “Give me a break. I just started this job. Do y’all know how Colt’s doing?”
Mom straightened, but Francine answered. “Oh, I watched on television till it was time to leave. He’s pretty much run in third place all night. His pit times are outstanding. The whole Ridenhour crew is killing themselves for him.”
“Really? Dale must be over the moon. He was yelling at the TV when I left the hospital.”
Mom’s smile never faltered. “Is he awake?”
“He’s awake. From what I could see, the man doesn’t even have a headache.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m so glad.”
If Francine thought Mom’s reaction odd, she kept her thoughts to herself.
Below, Barnes revved the engine of his brother’s Porsche. The gleaming 911 was a thoroughly predictable shade of red. The pit official sauntered down the lane, barely visible through the smoke coming off the rear tires.
“How’d you do on your times?” Mom asked, scooting forward on the bench. She dove into her purse, coming up with Dale’s cell phone. “Got your text. It unlocks with your birthdate.”
I tried to quell the squishy glow of happiness that tidbit of information gave me, unsure how much of her chipper attitude was faked. She had to be hurting. I felt a touch of shame that the day had centered on Dale so much. She’d been a trooper, though, hiding the hurt look in her eyes after the graduation ceremony with a smile when Dr. Jamison had come over to greet us—and gushed about her meeting with Dale.
Then, I realized, Mom had been faking things for a while now.
“Kolby showed his ass about the schedule, so he’s going first.” I rolled my eyes. “Guess that ninth-place finish in the All-Star race made him pissy. So insecure.”
Mom straightened her shoulders. “Late start, early start, right lane, left lane, space shuttle. It matters not, right?” She spread her hands. She’s taken off her wedding rings.
“Right.” Okay, she was trying to be here for me, and at the same time, move on. After watching Dale’s eyes when he realized I wasn’t Jill, how could I blame her?
She shoved her hand underneath her thigh, but met my eyes. Regret shimmered in the familiar green depths. Impulsively, I leaned down to hug her.
While she clung to me, I looked past her, at the man working his way down the crowded aisle. Who the fuck wore a business suit to a drag race?
I gaped in astonishment when I lifted my eyes to the man’s face. George England clutched a cardboard box of popcorn and a Coke. When he reached the row where I stood, he waited for the big man in the aisle seat to get to his feet. While I stared, the president of NASCAR worked his way down the rail to the empty seat on Francine’s right.
“Good crowd,” George observed. Francine helpfully lowered the raised seat, since the man’s hands were full. “How you doin’, Frannie?”
I blinked. He knew her? I’d never heard a soul call Francine ‘Frannie’.
“Missin’ Ernie.” She sighed. “He’d be all fired up over this.”
“Colt crossed the line in third place,” George announced. “Jamie in first. Hell of a race. I hate Dale missed it.” England rocked forward. “Here we go.” The president of NASCAR dug his fingers into the popcorn and crammed some into his mouth.
Well, fuck you, too. Am I invisible?
I’d planned to wait.... But, karma called. “Oh, Francine. By the way. I found something interesting in the back of—”
“Shelby! Excuse us, please.”
Digging a hand into the back pocket of my jeans, I waved at Harry and Phillip, secretly delighted that England’s arrogant ass had to get to his feet again, so my friends could reach their seats beside Mom.
Harry gripped my shoulders. “Colt came in third! He and that Rowdy asshole traded paint so often, Colt’s red car is now orange, thanks to all the yellow paint.”
“Rubbin’s racin’.” George lifted his drink to his lips, but not in time to hide his smirk. “That’s how its done.”
Oh, you want a rub? Let me help you with that.
I pressed against the rail so Harry and Phillip could sit down. “As I was saying, I gave Marley that stuff you sent, right? But the ugly frame fell out of the box. When it exploded, I found this hidden in the back.”
I produced the folded stock certificates and contract with a flourish. It took every bit of my self-control to hug Phillip and Harry, rather than stare, as Francine unfolded the paper that had cost George England two shares of his exclusive stock.
Francine discarded the certificates in her lap, in favor of scanning the legal document. But George peered at the pages in her hand. Two hours past sundown, it was still eighty-five degrees and humid as hell, so I couldn’t be sure, but I thought an extra layer of sweat gleamed on his cheeks.
England lifted his eyes to mine. Standing tall, I did my damndest to imitate Dale’s cocky attitude, right down to the twenty-one-gun salute from my chewing gum.
George raised his voice as Kolby shrieked off the line. “It ain’t public knowledge yet, but it’ll be all over tomorrow’s papers. Some damn fool at Volkswagen decided to install software to fool the emissions tests on their diesel units. The government’s fines in this country alone are gonna run to the billions. A damn shame and a real loss for us. The first thing they’ll do is cut out anything that ain’t essential, to satisfy their investors. That goes for Audi too. Seems like that software mighta sneaked into a few of their SUVs.”
Not essential? Like racing? Joining NASCAR?
“Isn’t.” Francine snapped, but her eyes were on the contract. “Anything that isn’t essential.” Her head came up and she wrenched sideways in her seat, knees knocking into George’s thigh. She snapped the page under his nose. “What the hell did you talk Ernie into, George?”
I blinked.
“Now, don’t you worry none, Frannie. I got your money.” He patted her thigh. “Just didn’t want to bother you with business so soon after Ernie died.”
Her thigh. I stared at his hand on her leg, waiting for her to coldcock him. Physically or verbally, I didn’t care which.
“That’s a fine eight point four second initial run from Kolby Barnes, folks.” Lee’s voice echoed through the stadium, over the hoots and applause. “He’s drivin’ a Porsche 911 tonight. I’ll be tellin’ you a bit more about the fine automobiles on hand here as we go along.”
“Oh, the last thing in this world I want is your money, Georgie.” Francine drew her spine straight. “I might be ‘just a schoolteacher’ in your mind, but my reading comprehension is off the charts.” She flicked the contract.
With her free hand, she scooped the stock certificates off her lap and waved them under his nose. “You missed your deadline to redeem. These are mine now. I wouldn’t sell these back to you for four times what you owe me. Like the song says, honey. A change is gonna come.”
England’s Adam’s apple moved above his pristine shirt collar.
Mom turned to gape. Harry’s eyes rounded, but Phillip darted a glance at me, grinning.
I love her, the lawyer mouthed. Adopted. Done.
Farncine’s indignant vow turned England’s face the color of the Porsche cruising around the oval. Barnes made a slow circuit, waving like he’d won the Charlotte 600, but what the fuck was going on? Francine didn’t want a twelve-million-dollar loan repaid? What change?
The thing that had attracted Ernie to her had been the way she’d demanded the bank return two dollars they’d drafted out of her account by mistake. How large could her retirement fund be?
Wait. They’ll only go up in value. If Ernie had twelve million
to loan, there’s more where that came from.
“How damn dare you make Ernie a party to defrauding Lisa?” Francine thumped the edge of the contract. “That’s what this was, right? Hiding assets? Hedging your bets, in case the judge awarded her half your stock?”
At the term ‘defraud’, Phillip gave me a look from under raised brows, but all I could do was shrug. Anyone who wasn’t blind could read the bold corporate name—North American Stock Car Racing, Inc.—on the pair of stock certificates laying in her lap.
Harry got his shit together faster than I did. He whispered in Mom’s ear. She stood. Harry elbowed Phillip, then made a circle in the air with his index finger. Mom and the attorney exchanged seats.
Harry turned to me, flapping his hands like he’d just loaded my tray with drinks. “We got this. Go get your head together. I’m not ridin’ this hard seat, just to watch you lose.”
I huffed. “See if I get you a Colt Hannah advertising stand up next year. Don’t even ask.”
“Fine.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanted a Shelby Hannah one, anyhow.” He dropped one eyelid.
“Brothers. What a pain in the ass.” I turned and skipped down the steps, waving to the fans as I jogged toward the tunnel. “Give him hell, Francine,” I whispered.
The cool tunnel brought me back to reality. If George was telling the truth—and why lie, if the news is due to break in hours?—an engineering partnership with Audi was off the table.
Now what?
Chapter Forty-Six
The security guard stepped aside so I could enter the tiny lounge. Caroline swung her legs off the coffee table.
“Colt was on fire.” Excitement blazed in her eyes. “His car, his pit times. He put that Ford through the smallest opening.” She held up a thumb and forefinger, set less than an inch apart and giggled. “His head’s gonna be bigger than his dick, you know.”
Maybe we all had to find the hope that trumped every fear.
I flopped onto the couch. “Serious question.”
“’Kay.” She turned the television off and propped her arm on the back of the couch.
“That day we met? When we were both late to school? Why were you late?”
Her brows pulled together. Her eyes lost focus for a moment. “I was supposed to ride the damn bus that day, but the power went out, I think. Alarm didn’t have no battery backup. Jesse took the piece of shit I was drivin’, so he could trade it in on the Challenger. I had to wait for Brandon to get home from workin’ third shift over at UPS so he could give me a ride.”
“Yeah. Me, too. But, I keep wondering. Why’d everyone who lived between me and you get to school on time?”
The loudspeaker came right through the walls. “That’s a seven point nine second run, folks.”
She frowned. “Rusty was late that day, too. But, he was late a lot. If his old man woke up with a hangover, he’d beat the fuck out of his mom, unless Russ was there to step in and take her whippin’. Finally killed her last year, after Rusty went off to college.”
Colt’s voice rang across the years, so clear, I almost looked around to see where he was hiding. Hey. Yes, you. Move along, son. You ain’t man enough to handle any of that.
No? Just man enough to take a beating for his mother?
I didn’t recall much from my short tenure at Central Cabarrus High, but how could I forget the shy boy who’d followed us everywhere, because of his crush on Caroline?
Everyone, everywhere, is in pain.
My mind did that weird jumping thing, showing me the cemetery across from Caroline’s house. I almost felt the chill of a December wind rushing down my back.
The real story’s always behind the lies.
“Hey.” Caroline swiped my cheek. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Emotional day.” I shifted to get rid of the ache in my lower back from the cheap springs in the couch.
She swept my hair off my cheek. “You... that thing the president read that you wrote? Oh, my God, it gave me chills.” She tugged my hair and giggled. “Girl, I could not believe it. I figured you’d forget you ever knew me once you got into that place. But right there, in the middle of all your rich girl friends, you made me proud to be a redneck.”
“Yeah? I’m proud to be what we are, too.” Overwhelmed by something I couldn’t define, I took her hand, sliding my fingers through hers. “Anyway, I was thinking that maybe it wasn’t a power outage. Maybe it was something bigger. Maybe we were supposed to find each other that morning.”
Squeezing her hand, I worked up enough spit to add, “That’s why I want you to take me to that clinic you found tomorrow.”
If this endless, raging debate in my soul was about innocent lives, was anyone more innocent than Caroline? I could do anything, except risk us. I had no idea whether the baby was Jonny’s or Robert’s. Waiting around to find out meant there’d be no going back if it turned out to be Jonny’s child. If I burned in hell for my decision, then I’d burn. But if had this baby, then history might repeat itself—Jill’s history. I could live with anything but knowing I might deliver the fatal rock that killed my best friend’s soul.
“You took the test?” she whispered.
“Wednesday night. That’s what you guys walked in on. I didn’t work up the courage to look at it till I went by the house tonight to change clothes.”
The door flew open. The loudspeaker sounded like it was inside the room. “That’s Porsche’s gettin’ warmed up now. Seven flat, folks.”
I jerked my head up to see Marley. Well, I saw her boots. Her face was hidden behind a huge bouquet of purple roses. A Nomex suit draped over her arm. She eased the massive vase onto the small table by the door.
“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” I grinned. “But, they’re lovely.”
She rolled her eyes. “Been in Jesse’s beer cooler since yesterday. They’re from Caine.”
Bundling the suit, she fired it into my lap. “What’s your best time?”
“Seven point seven.” Caroline answered before I could. “She ain’t run yet tonight. That time’s from back in March. Her runs start at eleven.”
“Ugh.” I lifted the heavy suit, the same one Caine had borrowed from Marley back in December. “It’s too damn hot for this. Caine disconnected the air conditioning in the Audi.”
Marley jammed her fists on her hips. “And thank God he did, if you’re even thinkin’ about usin’ it. Seven tenths of a second off the pace? Jesus. Caine should’ve made you practice more and fuck less this week.”
I let go of Caroline’s hand so I could shake out the suit. “Smart ass. Weren’t you paying attention? Late start, early start, makes no difference.”
Marley’s scowl broke into a grin. She grinned at Caroline. “Arrogant little thang, ain’t she?”
“It ain’t arrogance if you can back that shit up.” Caroline fanned her nails for inspection, then buffed the scarlet enamel on her shirt. “Want to tell us your best quarter-mile time, sis? ’Cause I sure as hell don’t see your name on that wall.” She gestured to the side of the lounge opposite the kitchenette.
“Pass. Dale Hannah ain’t my daddy. Who the fuck has a seven-second car?”
I tossed the suit over my arm and gestured to the red leather encasing Marley’s thighs. “Wait’ll Colt buys me a pair of those boots. You ain’t seen arrogance yet.”
Caroline crossed her boots on the shabby, magazine-strewn coffee table. “I forgot to warn you. Shelby’s independent as hell, right up until she jacks your best fashion choices.”
I slung my feet on the table, touching the toe of my new red boots to the side of her aged, scuffed ones, then winked at Marley. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“Didn’t you hear the helicopter? I flew over with George.” Marley brushed a speck of imaginary dust off her shoulder. “And those two guys Rick had in his box tonight.”
A ride in the president of NASCAR’s personal helicopter? Phillip was definitely my bitch now.
“
Can’t hear much but the music and the Porsche. That engine makes some noise.” Caroline giggled and slapped the back of her hand across my arm. “She’s been signin’ autographs and kissin’ babies. Next week, I expect her to run for county council.”
“Speaking of England, listen to this.” I filled them in on Francine’s reaction to the contract and stock certificates. I held back the bad news about Audi, however. I couldn’t afford to dwell on that.
“And, Dale’s awake.” Marley threw her head back and laughed. “He gave Caine fits all through the race. Caine finally handed his phone off to me.” She sobered. “They gotta hang out and do some interviews, but I heard Jamie tell one reporter they might have to finish up over here in the parking lot. The helo went back to pick up Jamie, Jonny, Colt, and Caine. They’ll be here, Shelby. The whole crew’s on the way.”
Jamie won the Charlotte 600—and he’s coming to watch me race? Heat raced over my skin, leaving me sweating despite the tiny wall unit churning out ozone-tinged air.
Marley glanced at her watch. “Time to suit up.”
Just thinking about putting on the heavy suit made me thirsty. Shoving off the couch, I crossed to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. To my delight, bottled water lined the top shelf of the fridge. I seized one.
“Hey, there’s blood on your jeans,” Marley said.
“It’s not my blood.” I glanced over my shoulder while I wrenched off the bottle top. Dammit why couldn’t I have those big-ass eyes? The jeans I’d worn the day me and Mom fought were the only pair I could still zip and button. Despite laundering them multiple times, the stains were set.
Marley went white underneath her tan.
Caroline yanked her feet off the table. Magazines cascaded to the floor. “Oh, God. Shelby. You’ve miscarried.”
With her words, a hard cramp drew me double. The bottle of water slipped from my hand. I panted through the pain.
“Marley! Go get the rescue squad guy. Hurry!” Caroline barked.
“No!” When I could straighten, I took a deep breath. We didn’t have Audi. We had to have the ‘Cuda. So we could sell it for the money to start Hannah-Built.
