Fast Time

by Shey Stahl

  Rager snorted. “Yeah, it comes in dime bags.”

  Though most of us wouldn’t admit it, or wanted to believe it, Cole still hadn’t gotten over his drug problem. While he claimed it was recreational, it was more than that.

  We sat there talking and it felt good to have these guys with me. Lane was telling us about Willie’s latest mishap when he lit a sparkler in the truck with Tommy then dropped it on his lap.

  Rager shook his head, his eyes wrinkling with laughter. “I’m amazed he’s still alive.”

  WEEKS AFTER THAT NIGHT with Olivia, I still hadn’t talked to her—until Summer Nationals in Williams Grove. We were at Williams Grove Speedway three times a year and Summer Nationals was the track nearly everyone from JAR Racing made the trip to. Probably because it wasn’t too far and most grew up around that track.

  Olivia, too. She was from Pittsburgh, so this was her old stomping grounds.

  Not long after time trials, she found me in the pits. I wasn’t in the greatest mood and was yelling at Tommy over the set-up of the car. She tapped on my shoulder and I whirled around to face her, thinking it was Willie. “What?” I laughed at Olivia’s expression. Smiling, our eyes met. “Sorry. I’m grouchy.”

  “All the Riley boys are.” Her voice faded with each word.

  “Listen…I’m sorry.” I hugged her and then pulled back, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t want to lead her on when nothing would ever come of this.

  Olivia smiled. “Axel…you don’t have to do that thing where you think you’re going to hurt my feelings so you hold back. I know that night didn’t mean anything. It’s fine. No need to explain. And I appreciate that you stopped it before you did something you would regret. I’m a lot of things, but I never wanted to be your mistake.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do, or say, so I said nothing. It seemed worse not to make her feel better about it, but really, what would I say?

  So I nodded. And she walked away leaving it at that.

  Tommy bumped my shoulder watching Olivia walk away. “Boy, are you getting yourself in deep?”

  I shoved him backwards, not hard, but enough he stumbled around. Giving him a sour look, I kicked my tire. “Go fix this hunk of junk.”

  To my left, right beside my hauler, Gray was sitting on my dad’s lap in his sprint car, pointing at the steering wheel. “What’s dat?”

  “Steering wheel,” Dad answered, kissing her temple.

  She then pointed to the rock screen. “What’s dat?”

  “Rock screen.”

  She continued to point to everything inside the car, which wasn’t a lot. Sprint cars are fairly simple. Watching them, reminded me that this time last year, Jack was with me, here.

  Adam, a bull-shoulder man with a few extra pounds in his mid-section, approached me. “Mind if I get an interview with you?” Since my son’s death, I hadn’t given a formal interview to anyone. I didn’t know why that changed in Williams Grove. Maybe because of the track and this time last year.

  Looking at Alley, she wasn’t comfortable with it, but left it up to me.

  I gave a nod inside the hauler. “I got a few minutes.”

  I was a little uneasy about doing an interview after the accident. I didn’t want them saying anything that wasn’t true.

  We sat around the table in the front where we usually had team meetings. Adam removed a recorder from his black bag sitting beside him on the table.

  He wasted no time going into the questions. “Do you hold any hard feelings toward Stevie?”

  “No. None. It was an accident.”

  “What are your thoughts on kids in the pits?”

  “I don’t have any thoughts on it. The problem isn’t kids in the pits. I grew up in there. My kids are, too.”

  “But your kid was killed in the pits at Cottage Grove.”

  “Yes, he was killed at a track, but it was an accident. Could have happened in the grandstands and has before. You can’t control everything.” Leaning back, I twisted and knocked on the window once, letting Alley know I was done with this.

  “You seem rather calm about burying your seven-year-old son.”

  I was livid by that point. How dare this asshole come in here and bring this shit up. I stared at him wanting to take his smug face and slam it against the table in front of him. I wanted to make him feel that gut wrenching pain I’d felt ever since the passing of my son, and then see if he could get those words out.

  The door opened and Alley entered the hauler. She could tell by one look it was over.

  Standing between me and Adam, for good reason, she nodded to the door. “That’s enough. If you have questions about racing, ask them, if not, interview is over.”

  “I have a few.” He glanced at his notes, undeterred by anything. Typical fucking reporter just looking for the story no matter what the cost. “Now your father has won numerous Outlaw championships and Cup titles, is it hard living in his shadow?”

  Was this a fucking joke? Had someone put him up to him up to this?

  “Listen,”—I sat back down—“I’m not my dad. Just like my son wasn’t living in my shadow. We make our own way. Maybe I’ll never win a championship like him. Yeah, I’d love to, but the face that I’m racing in this series is enough for now. I’m doing what I love and getting paid to do it. Some never get a chance to do this.”

  Adam nodded, as if he was expecting that answer from me. I knew he wanted to ask more but with Alley there, he was holding back now.

  “So what, you’re always trying to be the hero, huh?”

  Hero? What the fuck was he talking about?

  My dad once told me the adrenaline knotting in your stomach was your body’s way of saying, don’t fuck up. If you do, it could kill you. In our sport, that was true.

  “I’m not a hero. I never said I was. I’m a race car driver. I push speed and race on the edge where most people never dare to go. That’s not being a hero. That’s pushing your fears to the brink of your sanity.”

  Over the years, my dad had his fair share of bad press moments. Most racers had. If it wasn’t fans on Twitter and Facebook telling us what we were doing wrong, it was reporters, like this guy, trying to get me to say something he could use against me. I’d never understand that mentality.

  Dad came inside the hauler and stared at the reporter, then me. “Interview?”

  “Yeah,” I looked at Adam, “but he was just leaving.”

  Dad nodded and opened the door, wider, taking a step out. “They’re calling you to the staging lane.”

  Adam must have known it really was his time to leave, or he felt uncomfortable in the presence of my dad. He made his way out and didn’t even look back at me. He didn’t dare ask the legend for an interview. In fact, no one did unless he offered one up.

  I walked out with Dad, standing in front of my car with my helmet in hand. Tommy was kneeling down by my left rear tire checking its pressure.

  “You okay?”

  Setting my helmet on the roll bars, I pulled the top half of my racing suit back over my shoulders. “I’m fine.”

  Was I?

  No. I couldn’t say I was because Adam’s words agitated me. He made me feel like I should have been over this by now. Like my grief didn’t matter. It wasn’t like a race. There wouldn’t be a checkered flag where I would eventually feel relief. In this race, it was one lap at a time.

  I needed to heal in my own ways.

  And that was racing. It was a place where I didn’t feel anything but adrenaline.

  Nothing.

  It was just me and speed. Four corners and two straight-stretches.

  It was a quick banked clay oval that held my attention from ten seconds or twenty-five laps at a time.

  A fast time.

  A lap where nothing mattered but the speed in which your body said you just might be on the edge of disaster.

  There were times on a track when I gave it my all. Everything I had went into that one lap, every single ounce
of myself and what my car could take.

  And then I set fast time, giving me the confidence I needed to go on.

  I needed racing. I couldn’t live without that in my life.

  AFTER THE RACE IN Williams Grove, we had to be in West Lebannon the next day. We decided to stay in Mechanicsburg for the night and head to New York first thing in the morning. I ended up winning the weekend and wanted to celebrate a little.

  Arie was about to head home because she was flying out to see Easton in the morning, but we made her stay. Convinced her it’d be fun if we all went out. I think she knew it was a bad idea, but she had her brothers pressuring her to stay.

  “I’m not drinking though.” She said as we entered the bar.

  “Why?” Willie looked back at us opening the door to the bar. Arie, Casten and I followed him in. Ahead of us Tommy, Lane and Rager walked inside.

  “I’m pregnant.” She said, her voice hushed, her eyes on Rager and then the ground.

  “Congrats.” I hugged her to my side.

  Casten smiled widely at her. “I can’t wait to see how fat you get.”

  With a growl, Arie shoved him into the table we all sat down around in the bar. “Shut up!”

  When the table was occupied ordering, I leaned into Arie’s shoulder and nodded to Rager. “Does he know?”

  She closed her eyes, reliving a moment of what seemed like pain, her eyes teary eyed, struggling with an unseen emotion. “Yeah.”

  Tommy sat down on the other side of Arie, his arm around her, not hearing what we’d just said. “Did you tell Rager?”

  Rager’s head snapped to us, his eyes shifting around the table. “Tell me what?”

  No one said anything to him.

  He was moody today. And now I knew why. “Well, someone better fucking tell me.”

  Willie caved under Rager’s scrutinizing glare and downed a beer that was set in front of him by Casten. When he finished it, he blurted it out. “Arie’s pregnant.”

  Rager’s expression darkened with an unreadable emotion before he turned away from us and stared at the televisions on the wall, pretending to be interested in them. “She told me.”

  “You’re taking it well.” Willie teased.

  Casten gestured to Rager’s cut up fist cupped around a beer. “Sure he is.”

  Rager was drunk within twenty minutes, just like every other night Arie was around. I finally understood that a little more. The need to forget.

  Tommy looked at me, and then Rager who’d just taken a shot. “What do you think will come first, him needing a new liver or him actually stealing her away?”

  “New liver.” I set my beer on the table, smiling at Rager.

  “She chose him.” Rager mumbled at us and then made his way to the dance floor with some blonde he’d been watching. Arie watched the two of them in what seemed like regret. I wasn’t sure, but I’d never seen her so sad over seeing him with another girl. She’d seen it before, but this time it was different.

  As I watched the girl Rager had in his arms, it made me think of Lily and Shane. The thought sent a jolt of heat through my body as the image of my wife pulling up her panties plagued my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get that image out of it.

  Would it always be that way?

  It’d been three months now, but I still couldn’t rid myself of that memory. I was beginning to think, just like the memories of the day Jack died, I would always see this.

  Axel

  Flat Spot - When a wheel locks under braking, the car skids and leaves a flat spot on the section of the tire that was touching the ground at the time.

  AUGUST PASSED IN a blur, and then we approached August eighteenth, Jack’s birthday. He would have been eight. Lily let me have the boys that day, or I guess she did because it fell on a day where I was scheduled to have them. Part of me wished she would have joined us when I sent her a text message telling her what we were doing for Jack. I got no response. But then again, I still hadn’t signed those divorce papers. Maybe that was why.

  We had a simple celebration for Jack at my parents’ house where we sat in the backyard with the boys and the rest of my family. The days leading up to his birthday weren’t easy for me. I found myself moody and irrational when it came to dealing with anything. I argued with everyone, and then it hit me what day it was. Again, it was like smacking a brick wall. I lay in bed that morning with Jonah and Jacen watching cartoons and none of us said anything. I think they knew, too.

  My sister had red balloons made with his racing number and the words “God speed, little man” on them.

  Jonah held onto the balloon tightly, staring up at the red latex. “Can I write him a note?”

  I pulled a Sharpie out of my pocket. “Anything you want.”

  “Tell him I’m sorry I stole his yellow dumb truck. I put it back.” He seemed sad, a confession he had to get off his chest. And then he looked at me, stared at me actually before asking, “When I turn seven, am I going to Heaven?”

  “No…” I hugged him close. “I’m keeping you here with me.”

  Taking his balloon in his hand, Jonah shrugged. “Okay, I guess I can stay for a while.”

  I had to laugh as he ran off toward Jacen, the both of them smiling as they got ready to send messages to their older brother.

  All of us wrote a message on the balloons and then released them all at the same time. Seeing fifty-some red balloons floating in the sky made me smile. And though I had my boys by my side that day, it wasn’t easy, because the one person I wanted comfort from, wouldn’t talk to me.

  The longer I was away from Lily, the more I missed her. The hatred for the situation faded and I was left with my thoughts. Every day I woke up, I wanted to call her and tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to beg her to come home, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Just because she turned to him didn’t mean it was over for me. The fact that it was for her, hurt. The anger I still held for that day wasn’t gone completely, but it was fading.

  She was gone.

  Maybe even happy without me there.

  There was a difference between a broken race car and a bent one. You could limp one back to the pits and add some bear bond. The other, you were towed away.

  I wasn’t sure which one I was anymore.

  I was on the dock with my dad, my thoughts consuming me as Mom lit sparklers with the boys by the edge of the water. Music played softly in the background from speakers Casten had set up.

  Dad stood, probably feeling like I needed to be alone when I shook my head as the song “Dirt” by Florida Georgia Line came on. “Stay?”

  He smiled, shifting his stance and then took a seat next to me without saying anything more. The song continued and I saw the meaning behind it, like it was played for a reason in that moment with my father.

  He could tell I was struggling with the day, and the fact that I missed my wife and Jack. I wanted both of them back and it felt like I was mourning the loss of the two of them. Only Lily was still alive, and I didn’t know how to handle that. It was wrong and I didn’t want to miss her. I shouldn’t. She slept with my best friend. But we had also been together our entire lives. That I couldn’t ignore.

  JUST BEFORE WE WERE going to the West Coast and into the final two months of the season, we had an autograph session schedule at the shop.

  Though Dad hated doing autograph sessions, Alley and Emma told him that once a year he’d be opening up JAR Racing for an autograph session with all his drivers. Really, that meant dad was doing two. One with JAR Racing and then another up the road with Riley-Harris Racing, his Cup team with Tate.

  Dad was grouchy that morning, as was Rager, giving everyone short responses and grumbled breaths.

  “I just don’t see why we have to do this?” Dad groaned, dragging his feet as we entered the shop. “They get autographs at the track.”

  Emma shoved him forward as we all walked to the shop where the tables were setup with the cars lined up behind them. “Stop your bit
ching.”

  It wasn’t all that bad. Well, it wasn’t any worse than that damn interview I did a few weeks earlier. At least this time nobody asked me about my son. A few offered their condolences, but not many said much of anything. Just wanted pictures and autographs.

  A little boy about ten walked into the shop with a helmet in hand and met my stare. “Can you sign this for me?”

  I gave him a nod, unable to actually speak when I looked at him.

  He reminded me of Jack in a lot of ways. Bright sky blue eyes but with dusty brown hair. As I stared at him, the pain hit.

  Jack would never be ten.

  As I sat at the table signing autographs, I realized in some ways nothing had changed, but yet, everything had.

  Our lives, this team, it was all different over one night.

  I wanted what we had and that made me angry.

  We live. And then when die. At some point I wondered which one I was doing. It certainly didn’t feel like I was one or the other.

  Nothing in life was guaranteed. I know that more than most. I could promise forever but then forever was taken away.

  Then what?

  Why?

  No one knew. I certainly didn’t.

  What I did know was that the only moment we have was the very second we were in.

  That was it.

  Devastating realization, huh?

  It is for everyone once they realize that.

  And finally, I’d realized that. I have seen a life soar out of control, become so far gone I didn’t think it was never going to return. But I have also seen it come back again.

  We finished around four and were loading the haulers to head to the West Coast when we heard Willie cackling over a picture on his phone. With him, it could have been anything.

  Craning my neck forward, I tried to see what all the laughter was about. “Why is Willie laughing so much?”

  Casten shrugged, his mouth quirking with amusement. “Why are you surprised?”

  “I’m not.” I relaxed back in my seat. “Just wondering what he’s up to.”