Checkered Past

by Abby Gaines

  It was, Brianna felt, an impressive performance. She said little during the meeting, interjecting a question occasionally. By the time the meeting ended at one o’clock, she was filled with appreciation for the complexities of getting a race car on the track for a season of NASCAR Sprint Cup Series racing.

  “Let’s grab a sandwich downstairs,” Chad told her after his office emptied out.

  The small cafeteria was crowded, so Chad suggested they take their bagged lunches outside—although it was chilly, the sun shone brightly and the sky was clear.

  They sat on the front steps of the building. Brianna unwrapped her egg-salad sandwich.

  “Looks good,” she said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  As she bit into the sandwich, she turned to look at Chad and found his eyes on her. Their gazes connected. And stayed that way.

  The building behind them receded, and Brianna felt pelted by sensory impressions: Chad’s strong fingers, tanned against the white sandwich sack; Chad’s elbows propped casually on his knees, a position of relaxed strength; the rustle of paper as she put down her sandwich; the distant slam of a car door in the parking lot and the call of a bird overhead. Being here, a place she’d imagined so many times, felt unreal.

  Chad cleared his throat. “Any questions about what you saw this morning?”

  “Just one,” she said. “What’s so complicated that you couldn’t share this with your wife?”

  Chad pulled out his steak sandwich and crumpled the paper bag. The sensual atmosphere evaporated; his voice was clipped. “Today was a walk in the park compared with a typical day during the season. It’s not until we’re racing every weekend that the pressure hits.”

  He took a quick bite of his sandwich. As he chewed, he seemed to relax a little, maybe to think about her question.

  “The job is harder when my brothers are around,” he admitted. “When it’s just Dave and Rod and the other crew chiefs, there’s none of that emotional claptrap, no one taking things personally.”

  Brianna feigned shock. “You mean Dave Harmon isn’t in touch with his emotions?”

  A smile curved Chad’s lips and moved on up to his eyes. “Surprised, huh?”

  “Of course,” she said fairly, “I shouldn’t judge by appearances. He may be an incredibly sensitive guy.”

  Chad pursed his lips. “I think,” he said, “in Dave’s case it’s safe to judge by appearances.”

  Brianna chuckled.

  His expression sobered. “I know I hurt you two years ago when I said I didn’t want to work with you. But I stand by that. I wouldn’t want to burden someone else with my own pressure.”

  “Or,” she said, “you could share those pressures with someone, so that you don’t go home each night ready to tear your hair out.”

  He was shaking his head before she finished her sentence. “This business can be hard,” he said. “Marriage is just as hard. Heck, breaking up after a three-day marriage was more difficult than I’d ever have dreamed it could be. Business plus marriage…no way. Not for me.”

  ON WEDNESDAY Brianna got to meet Steve Parr, Matheson Racing’s sponsor liaison. While Chad took responsibility for finding new sponsors, once the deal was signed, Steve worked with them day to day.

  Steve and Chad met Wednesdays to discuss the week’s sponsor-related activities—it was Chad’s way of keeping track of potential dissatisfaction among sponsors, and also helped balance out the drivers’ time. While they had contractual commitments to their sponsors, there was still some give-and-take about what specific events the driver would attend.

  Chad asked Steve to brief Brianna about the kinds of activities that he believed delivered the best return on a sponsor’s investment.

  “I’m keen to hear that,” Brianna admitted. Her final recommendation would come down to where the dollars would be best spent. For Brian Hudson, everything had a measure.

  Acceptable, or not good enough.

  Halfway through Steve’s discourse, Trent came in without knocking.

  “Dad alert,” he said. “Julie-Anne just called—he’ll be here in five.”

  Chad groaned. Brianna could sympathize; she’d feel exactly the same to be told her father was five minutes away.

  “Did Julie-Anne say what he wants?” Chad asked.

  Trent shook his head. “She said he’s fretting about the sponsor search.”

  Both men glanced at Brianna.

  “Do you want me to leave?” she asked.

  “That might be best,” Chad said.

  At the same time Trent said, “No way.”

  Chad scowled at his brother. “I don’t want Dad hassling Brianna.”

  That wasn’t the reason she expected. Brianna scanned his face, wondering if his concern was genuine, or if he just didn’t want his wife and his family in the same place at the same time.

  “Brianna looks as if she can take care of herself.” Trent winked at her. She smiled back—no one could ignore his easy charm.

  Chad’s scowl deepened.

  Trent continued, “You know Dad will feel happier if he can see progress. And if he’s happier, he’s healthier.”

  “How ill is he, exactly?” Brianna asked Chad. “I thought you said the surgery was successful.”

  “A quadruple bypass has a minimum three-month recovery period,” Chad said. “Which means Dad’s not supposed to be working…but I can’t stop him from worrying about this place.”

  Chad’s brow furrowed; she wanted to touch that furrow, smooth it away.

  “Let me guess,” she said. She switched to a gruff tone. “He’s worked too hard to build his empire, so he’s not about to let a little heart attack slow him down.”

  Chad blinked. “Pretty much his exact words.”

  “And his doctors don’t know anything.”

  “Morons, all of them.” He smiled.

  “People just don’t understand that if your dad doesn’t keep on top of everything at work, the place will fall apart.”

  “It’s a wonder we haven’t declared bankruptcy,” Chad said solemnly.

  “And the fact that you’re worried about him?”

  He spread his hands. “Just me being girly.”

  “I knew it.”

  Chad said, “No offense to girls.”

  “None taken,” Brianna said. Electricity arced between them.

  Trent waved. “Uh, you two? There are other people in the room, and Dad’s about to be one of them.”

  Right on cue, they heard Brady’s gravelly voice in the reception below. Steve Parr excused himself on the grounds he needed to get back to work, and a minute later, Brady walked in. He looked surprised, then pleased to see Brianna. He shook her hand first, then Chad’s, then Trent’s.

  “Where’s that daughter-in-law of mine?” he demanded.

  Brianna froze. Chad did, too. Then Trent said, “Your daughter-in-law-to-be is spending a couple of days with her mom figuring out the wedding arrangements.”

  “Dad’s talking about Kelly, Trent’s fiancée,” Chad told Brianna, his voice too loud.

  “How exciting!” Briana said, her voice too bright. “When’s the wedding?”

  Chad glanced at the calendar on the wall. “The thirty-first.”

  “That’s less than three weeks away,” Brianna said.

  “Can’t come soon enough for me.” Trent sat down, she guessed to encourage his dad to take the weight off his feet, too. “Speaking of weddings…Dad, have you and Julie-Anne set a date yet?”

  Brady’s mouth tightened. “We’ll get to it. I’d like to have you and Kelly out of the way first.” He sat down heavily in the leather chair opposite Chad’s desk. “I’m not here to talk about weddings—I get enough of that with Julie-Anne. Next thing you’ll be asking me about dresses.”

  For a guy who’d recently got engaged, Brady didn’t sound too thrilled with the concept of weddings.

  “I agree, Dad,” Chad said. “There’s no need for you and Julie-Anne to rush into this wedding.”
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  Like we did, said the look he gave Brianna.

  “I didn’t say I don’t want to rush,” Brady snapped. “I love Julie-Anne.”

  Brianna gave Chad a look of her own. One that said, Your dad’s better at this than you are.

  “If we could have a decent NASCAR conversation for once,” Brady said, “you can tell me how Zack’s sponsorship is shaping up. Does the fact that Brianna’s here mean good news?”

  “No,” Chad said.

  “Chad suggested I spend a week here seeing how the team works,” Brianna elaborated.

  Brady nodded his approval. “Matheson Racing is all about family. Apart from our superior drivers, that’s our big advantage over FastMax.”

  “FastMax is a family team, too,” Chad pointed out.

  “Stepfather, stepson. It’s not the same.” Brady dismissed the Clark-family dynamic with a snort. He obviously didn’t consider their link to the Grossos worthy of mention. “You and your brothers are part of a dynasty, part of what NASCAR’s all about.”

  Chad rolled his eyes.

  “So far, NASCAR seems to be mainly about meetings,” Brianna joked to Brady. “I’ve seen more of the meeting rooms here than I have of the cars.”

  The older man’s face lit up. “Then it’s a good thing I came by. Have you taken a look around the workshop?”

  “Briefly,” she said.

  Brady harrumphed. “That’s where the blood is on the floor—not literally,” he assured her, “but that’s where the race starts. Why has Chad got you cooped up here with him?”

  “Dad, Brianna’s trying to understand the business side of the team.”

  Chad’s protest was ignored.

  “I imagine all you’ve heard about me from my boys is that I had a heart attack and I’m marrying my secretary,” Brady said.

  Brianna made a sound of demurral, but she felt telltale color in her cheeks.

  Brady threw his “boys” a fulminating look. “Or should I say, I’m marrying my secretary again.”

  “Uh, I hadn’t heard the again part,” she said.

  “You mean Chad hasn’t got on to that yet?” Brady marveled. “He hasn’t told you his and Zack’s mom was my secretary when we met?”

  Trent had a different mother from Brady’s other sons? What else hadn’t he told her? She shot a querying glance at Chad. He shrugged as if to say it wasn’t relevant.

  “I didn’t know,” Brianna said. “But then, why would Chad share something so personal with me?”

  Chad’s hands twitched at his sides.

  Brady got a speculative look in his eyes.

  “I mean, we only just met,” she said hastily.

  “Takes about twenty years to get to know my son,” Brady said cheerfully. “But it’s worth it.”

  And Brianna had thought she knew him after three days!

  “Thanks, Dad,” Chad said, startled.

  “Or you can choose to spend time with people who are un-complicated and fun to be around,” Trent said. He spread his hands. “Not naming any names.”

  Brianna grinned. “You mean, shallow people?”

  Trent roared with laughter. “Remind me not to introduce you to Kelly—she’d like you way too much.”

  Brady chuckled. “So, you prefer the strong, silent type, do you, Brianna?” He darted a glance at Chad, obviously enjoying his discomfort.

  Yikes, how had this got to be about her romantic preferences?

  “I prefer people—” she stressed the word “—who love what they do and love to talk about it…rather than about themselves.”

  “Ouch!” Trent said to Chad. “I think she just nailed both of us.”

  “You, for sure,” Chad said. Trent snorted.

  Brady said, “Then I’m the man—the person—for you. It’s nice to meet someone who speaks frankly, without tiptoeing around me in case I drop dead at their feet.” He glared at his sons. “These boys spend more time worrying about me than doing their jobs.”

  “How girly,” Brianna said.

  A smothered sound came from Chad.

  Brady looked alarmed at the thought of a threat to his sons’ masculinity that didn’t come from him. Then he chuckled again. “I like this girl,” he announced. He took Brianna’s arm. “Come with me. Look at this team through the eyes of someone who’s lived on both sides of the steering wheel. When you decide to sponsor a Matheson car, you buy into something that’s much bigger than that car, that driver. You’re buying into a NASCAR tradition that started before you were born and I hope will go on long after I die.”

  He led her out of the office, talking nonstop.

  “CAN YOU BELIEVE that?” Chad said, outraged, after his father had dragged Brianna off on his grand tour. “Dad jabbering away like he’s known her forever?”

  “What’s going on between you and Brianna?” Trent asked.

  “Nothing’s going on.” Chad focused on his computer screen, moved the mouse around meaninglessly.

  “She’s very pretty,” Trent said.

  Chad’s head jerked up. “So is your fiancée.”

  “I’m not saying I’m attracted to her, you goofball.” Trent clutched his hair. “Was I this bad when I thought you were flirting with Kelly last year?”

  “Way worse.” Chad leaned back in his chair, and the leather creaked. He grinned, remembering. “It was fun seeing you all bent out of shape over a woman.”

  “Yeah, well, much as I’d like to return the compliment, it’s not fun thinking about you falling for Brianna,” Trent said. “Your life is way too complicated to add that into the mix.”

  Chad clasped his hands behind his head. “Two things, little brother. One, you’re the shallow guy in this family, remember—don’t try and go deep. Two, I have no intention of falling for Brianna.”

  “Good,” Trent said, more serious than Chad had seen him outside of a race car.

  They spent the better part of the next hour talking about Trent’s planned sponsor appearances. Chad told himself to enjoy the respite from Brianna’s presence—it was exhausting the way she set all his nerve endings on alert. Instead, he found himself remembering the conversation they’d had before Dad arrived, how she’d understood Chad’s frustration with his father’s attitude toward his heart attack.

  Then she’d got along so easily with Brady—and with Trent.

  Of course she did. I wouldn’t have married a woman who didn’t like my family.

  Brianna’s empathy with them was a good thing, he reminded himself. She was big on making a personal connection—whether Matheson Racing got the sponsorship or not might come down to where she connected best. So Chad should be pleased, not resentful…or worse, feeling left out.

  When they came back, it appeared his wife and his father were the best of friends. Even Trent, everybody’s best buddy, looked surprised at their rapid rapport—Brady could be charming in his own rough way when he exerted himself, but he didn’t usually bother. Chad wondered how his father would have reacted if he’d called home a couple of years ago and announced he was getting married. Or that he’d just got married.

  Brady shook Brianna’s hand as he prepared to leave. “Great to get to know you better, Brianna. I hope you’ll come to our practice in Kentucky.”

  Chad hadn’t invited her. Or his father. “Dad, you’re not supposed to be traveling yet.”

  Brady’s good humor fell away; his face darkened. “I feel as fit as a driver—a real driver, from before they put power steering in the cars.”

  “What does Julie-Anne say about you going to Kentucky?” Chad asked.

  His father scowled. “Just because I’m marrying the woman doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decisions. If I say I’m coming to the practice, then that’s what’ll happen.”

  Was something wrong between Brady and his fiancée? Chad could only hope at least one of them was starting to see how foolish their hasty engagement was.

  Julie-Anne was like Brianna. She’d concluded early on that Brady wasn’t the sharin
g, loving kind of guy she wanted, so she’d ended their relationship. When Brady had his heart attack, he decided Julie-Anne meant more to him than his longtime independence, and, as Chad saw it, he’d been trying to be someone he wasn’t ever since. With limited success.

  Dad wasn’t cut out to be married to a woman like Julie-Anne any more than Chad was cut out to be married to Brianna.

  BRADY SLOWED his pace the moment he was out of sight of his interfering oldest son. He knew damned well he wasn’t back to full strength yet. He didn’t need Chad or anyone else making such a fuss.

  As he traversed the few hundred yards between the team headquarters and the offices of Matheson Performance Industries, located in the same business park, Brady concentrated on getting some even breaths and ignored the fluttering in his chest. The fluttering had been happening on and off since the heart attack, but it didn’t mean he was about to have another coronary. His doctor said it was due to panic.

  Panic! Brady Matheson, former NASCAR Sprint Cup Series champion and stalwart of the sport, responsible for some of the fastest engines in history, was having panic attacks. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Brady patted his jacket pocket, found the reassuring outline of a bottle of pills. Damned drugs. He’d been as strong as a horse all his life—he’d smoked cigarettes back when that was what everyone did, and he’d drunk his share of beer. Now he ate low-fat food and couldn’t get through the day without swallowing half a pharmacy.

  He told himself to be grateful he was still alive, not to complain because the team didn’t need him in Kentucky.

  The happiest moments of his life hadn’t taken place on a race track or in the pits. His happiest moments had been the birth of each of his sons; quiet evenings with his adored second wife, Rosie; the day Julie-Anne had agreed to marry him, right after he’d acted like a jerk who didn’t deserve her.

  Grace moments, Julie-Anne called them, and she was right.

  Brady gripped the iron railing as he walked up the steps into the MPI building. Since his heart attack, Julie-Anne had carried much of the burden at the company, with Brady providing input from the sidelines. An influx of capital from a new investor meant they had projects they needed to kick off. They couldn’t wait for his health to return.