Fast Time

by Shey Stahl

  All of that was basically ruined when I was almost there and my brother came into the room. I waited, trying to not let Lily know Casten had returned to the room and was whispering outside the bathroom door.

  “Whatcha doin’, bro?”

  I should have known that bastard wouldn’t have stayed down there.

  Lily was too far gone by that point to hear anything Casten was saying, her head thrown back against the pillow, moaning into the phone for me.

  Now do I finish? I was there, I was certainly ready to, but I couldn’t with Casten outside the door.

  “Tell her how align boring works…” he whispered. “But hurry…I have to pee.”

  “Pee outside, asshole,” I whispered back, my tone seething.

  Lily heard that, her eyes popping open in surprise. “Your brother came back, didn’t he?”

  Sighing, my head fell back against the wall behind me. “Yes.”

  Lily apparently thought that was funny and started giggling, pulling the blanket up over her.

  “What are you doing?” I laughed, watching her face warm with color. “He can’t see you?”

  “Oh, but what if I can?” Casten asked in a very mysterious sounding voice.

  “I gotta go, hon.” I clicked off the screen before she said goodbye, pulled up my boxers and opened the door reaching for Casten. “You little fucker.”

  Casten was quick and sprung back away from me and to the other side of the bed. “You are not very good at dirty talking. Take some lessons from me at least.”

  I lunged for him, got a good grip on him and then shoved him out the door. No way I was dealing with him this late at night when I didn’t get to finish either.

  He’d been ruining my sex life since he was a smart-mouthed kid and it seemed he still was, even at twenty-one.

  CASTEN ENDED UP SLEEPING inside the hauler that night after I punched him in the stomach for whispering through the door, curled up with Tommy and Willie. Couldn’t say it was the first time we had opened the doors and had seen them sleeping in there, because it wasn’t.

  Standing around the parking lot that morning, coffee in hand, we stared at the sprint car.

  “How late were you guys out here?”

  “I’m not even sure,” Rager said, his voice thick from not enough sleep. We heard footsteps behind us, the clicking of flip flops as they smacked against her heels and turned to see my sister walking toward us. “A while.”

  Rager immediately pulled his hood over his head when Arie came closer, wearing a summer dress that was fairly modest, thankfully. No one wanted to deal with Rager being a jerk this morning.

  After a slow moving morning, we made it back to the track for the final night there. We were forty-nine races into a ninety-four race season and I had only won ten feature events. Rager had fifteen and was leading the points because of his fifteen additional third-place finishes.

  My dad had eleven feature wins.

  I had to think of a way to rack up some more wins or there was no way I was going to be in competition for the championship come late October.

  Walking to the drivers meeting that afternoon, Lane and Rager were ahead of me and Tommy. Lane was asking Rager for feedback. They’ve been working together for the past five years and simple things like hand gestures worked for them as to how the car was handling. I’m sure he was telling him what he needed, but from back here, it just appeared to be hand signals.

  I looked at Tommy. “How come we don’t talk like that?”

  I was teasing him but he glared, his sunburned forehead scrunched together. “I thought we had something special.”

  Rolling my eyes, I shoved him backwards into Willie.

  When we got to the Outlaws hauler, the sun beat down on us outside the black tent, providing reprieve from the heat for about ten people. It was well into the nineties and I was sure it wasn’t going to let up any time soon.

  Listening to what the official was saying, I watched Dad standing beside Spencer, his arms crossed over his chest, barely paying attention. More than likely, he wasn’t hearing anything they said, his mind was on the race.

  My dad was the kind of race car driver who didn’t sleep. He was the one staying up the night before the race, thinking of any tiny detail that would give him the edge over someone else.

  Tommy once told me to race like my dad. I watched him race every time he was in the car and I wasn’t, mentally taking notes as to how he ran.

  But still, I never quite felt like I had what he had.

  “I feel like no matter what I do, he’s one step ahead of me out there,” I said to Tommy when we were back in the hauler and he was showing me notes he had on track set-ups.

  Tommy laughed, tipping his head the direction of my dad, who was now just outside his hauler signing autographs for fans who’d gathered around him. “It’s the way he’s always been. He’s like the Hulk and you’re like Capitan America. You’re too nice and he just doesn’t give a fuck. Be like that.”

  But how did he get like that? Had he always been that kind of racer?

  It wasn’t by accident. He had more experience than all of us.

  There was a term in racing called the Delaware Start. It was where the lead driver got to pick the line he wanted on the start and had the front to himself. With no other cars beside him, there was no option of choosing what line he wanted, because he had the option for both, up until that green flag.

  I felt like I was that driver, right before the start, still trying to decide what line I was going to take.

  Tommy left, needing to make some final adjustments to my car. I liked my car more neutral, where right now, it was way too loose.

  I stepped outside the hauler and into the pits, dust kicking up when the water truck laid down a layer of water over the dry pits.

  Rager’s hauler was parked next to mine. He stood, talking with Lane. A fan approached him, a young woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, maybe, and asked for his autograph. He turned around, and then smiled. “Come see me after the race. I’m a little busy right now.”

  He was polite about it and I hoped she did come back because he wasn’t trying to be rude. We just only had so much time, and it looked like he and Lane were trying to figure something out on the car.

  The woman backed up, smiling. “Okay, I will. Sorry.”

  Rager sighed, reaching inside his hauler for the box of shirts in there while Lane chuckled. Feeling bad I supposed, Rager took the few steps toward her when she started to walk away. “I’m sorry. Here.” He handed her the shirt and then took the picture she had in her hand away to sign. “I really wasn’t trying to be rude.”

  And then he turned and walked away, making that girl’s day by a simple gesture.

  Rager didn’t talk a whole lot. We were pretty similar in that way and I’d always respected him for the level head he managed to keep. Most of the time. His first few seasons in the World of Outlaws weren’t so pretty. He was hot headed and trying to prove himself. But hanging out with my dad, or driving for him, didn’t lend itself to that type of attitude—probably because that was my dad back in the day, too, and he knew how to handle it. You couldn’t go around starting fights in this series. Nowadays, if you got in a fight in the pits, most tracks would tell you not to come back. There were a handful of tracks on the tour that even Willie couldn’t attend.

  I was talking with Tommy, again, just before the pill draw for the inversion, when Mom showed up with Jack. She’d kept him for the day and let him stay at the hotel a little longer so he could play in the pool for the afternoon.

  His eyes were bright when he approached me with a running hug. “Rager said I get to do the pill draw tonight!”

  The pill draw was a process where the top qualifying drivers drew a pill with a number out it. That number designated what number the inversion would be for the night. It was either a zero, four, six or an eight.

  “That’s great, buddy,” I said as we jumped on the four-wheeler to head to the
infield.

  Down trackside, Rager had Jack beside him, being the first to be interviewed.

  “Who’s this?” the announcer asked, smiling down at my son.

  Rager placed his hand on Jack’s head. “This is my little buddy tonight. He’s the pit boss.”

  Jack couldn’t keep still. He bounced all over the place, probably just excited to be on the track.

  “What’s your name?” The announcer pushed the microphone in his face.

  “Jack Riley,” he replied, as if saying that name was an honor to him and talking like he’d given hundreds of interviews in his life. “I’m a race car driver, too.”

  “I’ve heard that. You race quarter midgets, right?”

  “Yep.” Jack nodded. “I’m gonna race these soon, too.”

  “Is that so?”

  Rager laughed beside him, ruffling Jack’s hair. “It’s the roar that gets ‘em.”

  I couldn’t help but feel proud of my son right then, and also, relate to him in so many ways. Everything he did reminded me of myself at that age.

  I remembered, just like any kid who’d grown up around racing, the first time I saw my dad race. I couldn’t keep my eyes away. I was something like three or four and the memory was a vivid one for me. Dad was at Knoxville Raceway where he took home the win for Knoxville Nationals.

  It was my front row seat to history. I was amazed at what he could do in a sprint car then go out and do the same in NASCAR. It was unheard of.

  I asked him what his secret was, many times.

  His words to me?

  “Don’t give up. Greatness doesn’t come easy.”

  Dad always had that line figured out. If this was a Delaware Start, he had it figured out.

  WHEN WE RETURNED to the pits, we prepared for the dash. Jack had drawn a zero which meant there’d be no inversion tonight and Rager would keep his pole position in the dash.

  As we hustled around the pits to get the cars to the staging lane, Lane’s brow scrunched watching Willie rap a Salt N Pepa song.

  Lane looked concerned now. “Is he really rapping Salt N Pepa right now?”

  “He licked a goddamn urinal,” Casten said, speaking up for the first time tonight. It was strange to see my brother so focused lately, but he really wanted a feature win, and the hunger was evident tonight. I could definitely relate to that feeling. “Don’t expect so much out of the guy.”

  Rager nodded, his helmet in hand ready to get in the car. “Very good point.”

  Casten motioned for Willie to hurry up with what he was doing on the car. “Come on, shake a tit.”

  Laughter flowed around us, but quickly faded once we were in the cars.

  Rager won the dash, again, and I ended up getting fourth, which meant I would start fourth in the main. Casten managed to pull off a second place finish though. It surprised me, and made me happy. He was getting closer to that win.

  I remembered my first Outlaw win, too. It was something I’d never forget. I hoped tonight was his night, just as much as I wanted another win.

  When we were out of the cars, Dave handed me a plate of food. “Here…eat.”

  Soon the guys all huddled around, filling plates and grabbing food while we had time.

  Now I remembered why we kept a guy like Dave around. He cooked for us most nights, so we weren’t stuck eating track food every night. And good stuff, too. It wasn’t like hamburgers or hot dogs. It was shit like smoked ribs or tri-tip.

  I gave Jack, who was sitting on the rear tires of my car kicking the clay out of the tread, a plate of two ribs and a few chips, along with a bottle of water. He looked at the meat, and then back at me. “Can I just have a hot dog?”

  “Oh, God, this is so good.” My sister moaned, taking a bite of her steak and chewing it with a slow savoring motion.

  Casten chuckled, his own steak on a plate with potato salad next to it. “Easy there, sis. There are children present.”

  Jack smiled, wondering what my brother was about to say next. I was sure he enjoyed my brother for the simple fact that he heard things I would never say. At least not with my kids around.

  For the longest time, Arie never ate meat. Apparently, that’d changed.

  With a heavy sigh, Rager walked away from the group, and went to eat inside his hauler with Lane.

  Rager was more focused at the track than most drivers, even my dad at times. Nothing seemed to rattle him until my sister was around. Then it seemed he couldn’t keep his attention where it was needed, or he got angry.

  Tommy rolled his eyes as he cut into his steak. “Who thought it would be a good idea that you travel with us sometimes, Arie? I mean, I love you, but you make Rager moody.” And then he looked angry. “And he drank the bottle of crown the other night that I was saving for a special occasion.”

  Willie groaned beside him. “I know what you mean. He punched me in the stomach earlier today. In. The. Stomach.”

  “Why?” I asked, barely able to stop laughing at the two of them.

  “Because I told him to stop staring at her ass.” Willie stared at me like I should have seen the significance behind it.

  “Stop provoking him,” Arie said, then stood and walked away from all of us.

  Arie didn’t travel with us a lot, but the more she did, the harder it was on Rager.

  I’d often tried to understand what it was that held Rager captive, and I understood Arie was it for him. Sure he slept around—he had needs—but it was rare to actually ever see him with a girl.

  Awards banquets, he took his mom.

  He never dated, and if he was with someone just for a need, we didn’t see it unless we knew that’s what he was doing. He was extremely discreet.

  Because of this, the guys gave him a hard time.

  Right before the main, Dad came by to eat, his racing suit pulled down around his waist. As he was dishing a plate of food, Willie stared at him.

  “Why are you all red?” Willie asked, staring at my dad’s skin, which was bright pink, like he’d been itching.

  Dad groaned. “That fucking hotel water is awful. It wouldn’t get the soap off.”

  “So you rubbed your skin raw?” Amused, Casten scratched his jaw and tossed his plate in the garbage can. “That wasn’t smart.”

  “I hate that feeling of dried soap on my skin. Makes me insane.”

  “I see that.” Willie laughed, poking at Dad’s skin as he stood beside him. “Does it hurt?”

  He shoved Willie. “Shut up and change my gears.”

  IT WAS A ROUGH NIGHT of racing once we got into the main.

  That was racing. We never knew what the next night was going to bring. Where my car was good in the opening laps, by the end, the car was jumping sideways in the corners and was all over the place.

  Casten threw an impressive slider on Dad, but couldn’t make the position stick and settled on second place, much like me last night. Everyone thought Casten didn’t have the talent to win. They would speculate often that he was just out here with Daddy’s money. He had talent. He even had sponsors. He hadn’t won an Outlaw race yet, but he’d gotten second a few times now and received the nickname “Top Ten,” because most of the time, he was in the top ten. Never failed.

  None of us stuck around after the race and made plans to crash at Rager’s house while my parents headed back to Mooresville. They offered to take Jack with them, but I knew he wouldn’t want that. He wanted to be with the boys as much as he could.

  Rager’s parents lived about ten miles from the track in a house on about thirty acres land. Once you were out there, it was easy to see why Rager enjoyed being out here and still lived with them. It was private and you didn’t feel like you were right in the middle of the city.

  I’d met Rager’s parents on a variety of occasions. They were amazing supporters of him. Kind of like my parents.

  “Oh sweet boy!” Rager’s mom hugged him closely when we were all inside the house and then looked behind him to see my sister. “And Arie, honey! You�
�re here!”

  When you looked at Jackie, you could see immediately where Rager’s shocking blue eyes came from.

  After kissing his mom’s forehead, Rager shifted away, creating distance when Arie stepped forward to hug his mother. “Where’s Dad?”

  Jackie motioned upstairs with a wave of her hand. “He’s sleeping.”

  “Is it okay if we crash here tonight?” Tommy asked, looking around the house then sitting down at the table.

  “You’re all welcome here.” Jackie smiled, looking at Lane and Casten, and then Arie standing next to me.

  Rager buried his hands in the pockets of his shorts staring down at his feet. “They’ve got plenty of room.”

  Everything between Arie and Rager was awkward, today especially. Which made me think something happened last night outside of the hauler. I loved Easton. He was a great brother in-law, but I’d say it again. My sister married the wrong guy. I know she did. I was there at Arie’s wedding. I saw what it did to Rager to watch that and not say anything. He wanted her to be happy, even if it made him miserable.

  As we sat around, Rager’s mom made us all food and gushed over how adorable Jack was now, despite it being around 11 p.m. He was fairly taken by her, too, and followed her all around the house with a big grin.

  “Jackie,” he said, looking at her collection of root beer in the fridge before picking the bottle he wanted. “Did you know that if you shorten your name, we would have the same name?”

  “I did. How cool is that?”

  Jack nodded. “I think it’s pretty cool.”

  I let him finish his root beer then took him upstairs to brush his teeth. Right before I put him to bed, I made him call Lily to say goodnight. She’d kill me if she didn’t get to talk to him every night before bed.

  “Hi, Mommy.” His face brightened when he heard Lily’s voice, pushing his hair from his eyes. “I’m at Rager’s house. I got beer, too!”

  “Root beer!” I yelled, hoping she heard me. The last thing she would want is to hear I’d let our son have beer.

  I told Lily I’d call her back in the morning since it was so late, but she sounded a little sad. It had been three days since she’d last seen Jack and I could tell she missed him.