“Yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Dixie, but can you chill a little on camera? I don’t want to look too pussified,” I grinned.
“Oh, honey. You ain’t no pussy, and I think everyone knows that,” she'd said, kind of matter-of-fact, and I'd wondered if she'd been trying to flirt with me.
When I got to the Redemption Road house, the other guys had already arrived. They cheered for me as I walked up the steps with a couple of boxes and Colton ran to my car to get the last of my stuff for me. He was a nice kid, a little younger than me, and he’d served time for grand theft auto, or so I’d heard.
“Thanks, Colton.” The film crew followed me into my suite to grab my reaction. The room was stunning and the bed was shiny black with a yellow and black comforter emblazoned with the number 27—my name was under it. I set the boxes down on the floor and stared at the bed. Wow! This is really fucking happening! I felt tears wet my eyes, but I brushed them away. I let the film crew follow me around and film me while I put my stuff away, then I asked them for some space, which we were allowed to do occasionally. Mike grinned at me, patted me on the back and said, “Sure, good stuff. Thanks, Fitz.” I shut the door behind him and lay on the bed. I let the tears fall quietly as I stared up at the clean ceiling above me. This was so incredible. How did I ever deserve it? I don’t think I’d ever been so emotional in my life. This was it. This was real. I had to send Mollie a text.
Hello beautiful!
I waited to see if she'd respond. Nothing. I’d waited about fifteen minutes, but didn’t want to linger too long. I didn’t want the other guys to get the idea that I was some sort of pussy. I checked my phone one more time. Damn it! She was probably still at work, so I washed my face and went to the man cave to hang out with the guys. Naturally, they were watching the latest NASCAR race.
“I’m so going there, dude.” Colton whooped. It was really hard having these cameras follow me around all day, but I’d get used to it. Today was only the first day, after all.
“Oh, yeah, almost forgot. Your mail is on the kitchen table, dude,” Colton said.
“Mail? No one even knows I’m here. Who’d be mailing me?”
The guys grinned and Colton said, “You’ll see.”
I walked into the dining room, surprised to see a stack of letters and cards piled up on the table, all with my name on them. Colton walked in. “You’ve got a few fans, but don’t think you’re special. My stack was way bigger.” I laughed and picked one up. I could smell the perfume on some of them. There must have been at least a hundred letters from fans, and Redemption Road hadn’t even really started until today. They must have been doing some heavy promotion for me to have all this fan mail. Colton told me that the mail had been delivered to the studio and Sylvia had forwarded it to us. “She said if we didn’t want to deal with it, we should ask our attorneys to manage it for us. I think that’s what I’m gonna do, ‘cause I ain’t writin’ letters. Maybe an email to my next baby mama, but not snail mail.”
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll probably hand this duty over to my guy, Jernigan—if he’ll do it. This is just weird.” I sat down at the table and flipped through the rest of the letters. I opened one and it was from a seventeen-year-old girl asking me to marry her. I chuckled. I’d have to tell Jernigan to write her back and tell her to stay in school. The next one was a card. I checked the postmark and this one had come all the way from California. A picture fell out and it was of the girl, I assumed. “Wow! They send nudie pics too?” I laughed.
“You got naked lady pics?” Wyatt jumped up from the couch and walked toward me.
“Sit down, dude. This is my mail!” I had to laugh. I slid the picture back into the card and made a mental note to tell Jernigan some of the mail was X-rated.
“Well, what did it say?” he whined. Poor guy. I hoped he’d gotten some mail as well, but he hadn’t said anything about it.
“Nothin’.” I flipped through more letters and opened some of them at random. I was aware of the camera crew filming me, so I looked up and smiled—I really had to get used to being watched all the time. Most were from women, or teenage girls who'd seen me on television. A few had pictures in them, but most were pictures I didn’t want to see. I picked up a bright yellow envelope and examined it, then looked at the camera and said, “Okay, this one has hearts and cars drawn on it. I’ll read this one out loud.” I ran my finger under the seal to open it. The little girl had even drawn a 27 on the back of it.
“Dear Jackson. You don’t know me, but I'm sure that I’m your father, Jeffrey Carter—Stop the video! Get that camera off me!” I yelled at the camera crew, but they kept filming, so I just sat there and read the rest of the letter silently.
I hope you and Nellie are well. I’d given up hope of ever finding you, but when I saw you on TV, I knew it was you, instantly. I know this must come as a shock to you, but I’d like to get together with you and talk. It’s been a long time, son.
Your father,
Jeffrey Carter
I sat and stared at the letter, hardly able to believe what I'd just read. Son? What the fuck did this douche bag think I was? Some kind of idiot who'd fall for this 'Son' crap? And why would it have hearts and cars on it? Dude was obviously a fucking jerk, that’s what he was. The camera crew was still filming, but I didn’t bother hiding my frustration—I didn’t have anything to hide. I wasn’t the motherfucker who’d abandoned his kid and left him with his drunk-ass mom in a living hell.
I got up and went outside, taking the letter with me. I checked around and made sure there were no cameras before I slid my phone out of my pocket and called Mr. Jernigan. I told him about the mail and the strange letter I’d received. He said the letter he had at his office was also from a Jeffrey Carter, and he’d swing by and pick up all the mail later that day. I hung up, read the letter about a dozen more times, and wondered what the hand-drawn hearts were all about. This is whack. Some sick fuck is trying to fuck with me.
Colton came outside to find me. “Man, are you okay? Talk about coming out of the woodwork. You think it’s legit, Fitz?”
We walked back into the house, held the letter up to the cameraman and said, “I don’t know who or what this is, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” God, I needed a cigarette. And Mollie. I needed to talk to her. She'd understand, and right now I wasn’t sure I could handle being at the house without her. I’d have to do something, find a way. “I’m out.” I said as I started toward my room.
Mike and the other camera guy just stared at me. I was at a loss for words, so I forced a smile. Maybe it was true and this dickweed was my father. He did know Nellie’s name, but I wondered if he'd Google'd me and found it that way. I wasn’t even sure if she was mentioned on the Redemption Road website, but if he was really my sperm donor, I sure as fuck had a lot of questions that needed some answers.
Chapter Three — Mollie
“Be honest with me, Mollie. Would you wear this?” Natalie held up her sketch. It was a dress with a sling-cut hem, bell sleeves and boots. I crinkled my nose and smiled at her. Natalie rolled her eyes, crumpled the drawing up and tossed it onto the floor.
“Natalie! Don’t do that! You know I'm not a fashion expert like you!” I retrieved the paper wad and handed it back to her. “And for the record, I like the dress, just not the bell sleeves—maybe three-quarter sleeves with a sling cut, like the hem?”
“Oh, my God, that actually makes sense.” She flopped back on her big, blue sofa and pretended to faint. “It’s official. I need a man. My brain isn’t working properly—all I can think about are hot, hard bodies. Does Dylan know anyone he can hook me up with?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew Natalie was having a dry spell romantically, but I'd thought it was by choice—she'd been so busy working on her new clothing line.
“I can’t do that. I broke it off with him. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.”
“You what?” she asked.
“You heard me. I’
m with Jack now.” I hadn’t told her about the night at the hotel and I hadn’t really seen her until this morning, so I squinched up my face and braced myself for the fallout.
“Jack? Good God, Mollie. Are you insane?” Then she looked at me through slitted eyes. “I can’t believe you’re fucking Jack Fitzgerald. After everything that’s happened?”
“Nat, relax. Okay? Jack and I are together now and as a matter of fact, I have a lunch date with him today. He’s going to do an interview on some sports channel, then we’ll stay at Callahan’s to watch the game—all on camera, I might add. Oh, God! Is that the time? I'd better get dressed. Come, help! I might be on TV!” I rushed out of the room to find some clean jeans and a cute top to wear with it. Jack had said to be casual, and I wanted to look nicer than casual, but not overdo it.
“So, what happened? Was it because his mom died? Tell me!”
“No, Nat! It’s because I love him,” I yelled on my way out of the living room.
Natalie yelled back at me. “Don’t make me say, 'I told you so', okay? And wear those dark jeans and that white top I made you last week—with your 'fuck me' black stilettos. You’ll look amazing, and no one else will have a blouse like that.”
I looked at Nat and laughed. “Trying to get me to pimp your clothes on national TV?”
“Hell, yeah, girl! Why not? Everyone’s going to have to know where you got it and you can just send them to my site—or Neiman’s in a few months. They bought the design!”
“Niemen’s? Right on, Nat! That’s so cool!”
I drove to Callahan’s Sports Bar and saw the local news van camped outside. I had a hard time finding a place to park and wondered if I should have taken a cab or had Jack pick me up, but they weren’t letting the Redemption drivers out much right now. Apparently, they didn’t want them going out and doing anything illegal or anything that might cause a problem for Stockton's reputation. If it weren’t for the golden opportunity he'd been given, I don’t think Jack would have agreed to it. He’d already told me that he didn’t need a babysitter.
I finally found a place to park and freshened up my lip gloss in the rearview mirror. That’s when I noticed Dylan’s brand new Dodge Ram parked behind me in the lot. Oh, God! I don’t want to see him! He’d bought the big, blue truck last weekend—the day I'd dumped him—and that was an awful day. I mean, Dylan was a nice guy—until he wasn’t. He’d had a few choice words to say about Jack and I'd never even mentioned his name in my breakup speech. I took a deep breath and braced myself for what I was about to walk into.
I fought my way through the small crowd to get to Jack. He was in a group of men with racing jackets on and they were smiling, talking to the crowd and signing autographs. He wore a shiny black racing suit, emblazoned with at least a dozen sponsors logos. He smiled when he saw me, and I smiled back. He had an amazing smile. “Hey, Mollie. Great to see you. Come over here and meet the team.”
I smiled, and put my hand up in a small wave. “Hi, guys!” Jack immediately wrapped his arm around me as if to let everyone know I was taken and not to even look. And to be honest, I was glad he did. He was so handsome. He towered over me, even in my heels, and he’d let his hair start growing out again. I smiled up at him and he kissed my forehead. Cameras went off; clicking here and there and I got a big knot in my stomach when I realized this would all be on national TV.
I whispered to him, “Jack?”
He looked at me with his big, green eyes and a smile plastered across his face. “Yeah?”
“Are we on TV?”
He squeezed me tighter and answered, “Yes, baby girl, we are.”
I froze. I hoped my lip gloss was on straight and the expensive, white shirt Natalie had made for me wasn’t the slightest bit see-through on camera. I’d never felt self-conscious on a normal day, but this was national TV! My heart pounded and I prayed I wouldn’t sweat. I’d hate to be on TV with sweat beads on my upper lip—or my armpits, for that matter.
Then a man, all decked out in racing gear, climbed up on the little makeshift stage and started talking. I was so glad the cameras were finally on him, and not us.
Jack bent down and kissed me. “Are you okay? I told you cameras can make a person nervous.”
“I know, I just didn’t realize how nervous,” I said, with my eyes wide. “Have you seen—?”
“—yeah, I saw him. He won’t be a problem. Security is tight and I don’t think the little weasel is that stupid.” I wondered how Jack knew I was asking about Dylan, but I didn’t want him to think I cared—because I didn’t. This was Jack's day and I was just happy to be here with him.
“So did you already do your—”
“Jackson Fitzgerald! Congratulations on being named one of the new drivers for Redemption Road! Come on up here and tell us a little about what brought you here and why you’re a good candidate for this program.”
Jack turned to me. “Come on,” he said, and gently pulled my arm.
“No!” My eyes must have grown as big as saucers when I noticed everyone was looking at me. “Okay,” I whispered, and followed Jack up to the small stage. He stood in front of the man and I could see his eyes, just as bright and playful as ever. The crowd cheered for him and I tried to move behind him, but his arm was tight around my waist and he wasn’t about to let go.
He thanked the crowd and started talking. “Like a lot of guys from the Village—that’s a large community in my city made up of under-privileged families—there aren’t many ways you can excel at something—or get out of that life and be good at something. Something other than selling drugs or become a criminal and to be honest, I’ve done both.” Some of the crowd booed, but Jack put up his hand to quiet them down.
“Wait! I’ve paid my dues, done my time and that’s all behind me now.” Cheers came from the crowd. Louder cheers and whistles. I was so proud to be standing next to him. I even felt like I stood a little taller, even though he still towered over me. “I’d almost given up on having a good life until a friend—a very sweet friend—encouraged me to try again. You see, I was one of those guys who got into trouble—a lot of trouble…” He laughed, and the interviewer laughed with him, “but, I had one thing that I loved more than anything else, and that was racing. I’d gotten into a bad accident—I nearly died, or I did die and came back, I don’t know. I heard different things and my friend was there to take care of me. After that, I knew I wanted something better than what I had. I decided to do things differently—even though living right is hard, man it is hard! But thanks to that special person—” his arm got tighter around me and he turned and smiled at me, “—I made it, or should I say we made it—together.”
Jack bent down and kissed me, he wasn’t holding anything back and when his soft lips hit mine, the whole world was gone. No cameras, no crowd, it was just me and him on that stage for the whole world to see. I wrapped my arms around him and the crowd cheered.
The interviewer leaned forward and said, “Jack, uhm…Mr. Fitzgerald—” When we broke apart, Jack had a sheepish grin on his face and I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “Sorry, I got carried away. Sorry to all the little kids who had to see that, but I’m in love with this beautiful lady and that can make me do crazy things.”
“Yes, yes,” the interviewer laughed, “we can see that. So what are your plans for the future?”
“I’m gonna win this!” he yelled, and fist-pumped the air. The crowd went wild and Jack looked at them again and said, “You little guys, be good and stay in school!”
As we walked off the stage into Callahan’s, I was on top of the world. Jack was so loved by these fans, and he was so proud. I was proud. I heard the announcer call another one of the drivers to the stage, and I was secretly happy that Jack and I could have a minute to ourselves at last. We sat down at one of the tables farthest from the TV, and far from the front. “You did great!”
Jack let out a long breath, “I didn’t know it was gonna be like this. I mean, there are a lot of people outsi
de—and they kept on coming.”
“I know. That’s amazing. How are you? Okay? Scared?”
“Me? Scared?” he scoffed. “Mollie, my love, danger is my bitch. I’m not afraid of anything.” That made me laugh out loud, but I knew he was lying. I took his word for it, anyway. For now. “You hungry?”
“Yep, I’m starving. Hmm…this looks good. With a beer, of course.” I smiled at him. Naturally, Jack ordered chicken wings, and I went with loaded nachos.
“You know, you can get anything you want—it’s all on The Road. They feed me like I’m a poor, starving orphan or something.” He looked at me, painfully. “Wow. That was a bad choice of words.”
I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. “I’m so sorry. Have you heard anything else about that man who claims to be your fath—?”
The server plopped our food down in front of us. “Here you go! Need anything else?” I didn’t answer, but Jack said, “Nope. I think we have everything we need right here. Thanks.”
“Wow, this looks good,” I said. I popped a nacho chip in my mouth, then there was a commotion at the front of the bar. The game had begun.
“Fitz! I’m gonna fuck you up!” We both looked toward the door and saw Dylan, red-faced and raging toward us. Jack stood up, but security already had Dylan restrained. “This isn’t over, you fucking douche bag! Fucking whore!” he yelled, as security pushed him out the door.
“Sit down, Jack.”
“No fuckin way! He’s not—”
“Please! Just sit down.”
Jack reluctantly sat back down. “That motherfucker is not gonna get away with this. I don’t care about this shit.” He slammed his hand on the table, and almost spilled our beers. “No one, and I mean no one, calls my lady a whore!” He stood up and paced back and forth. This was what Dr. Gray had been talking about with him. Anger management and control—and Jack needed to stay in control.
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