Revved Up Hearts

by Kilgore, Kristy D

  To Mom and Dad, who always supported and believed in me.

  To Patrick and Shane, I’m proud to be your big sister.

  To Travis, I’m proud to be your little sister.

  I love you all so much!

  To Rachel, Becky, and Toni, who read this before it was done and encouraged me to finish it. I couldn’t have done this without any of you!

  Most of all, thanks to my heavenly Father. With you all things are possible.

  Wow. Dawn had watched NASCAR races on TV before, but that didn’t hold a candle to being there in person. The track at Daytona International Speedway was huge. People were everywhere. They wore the colors and numbers of their favorite drivers. She couldn’t move without bumping into someone or someone bumping into her. A man with no shirt but his body painted red with a white 14 on his chest nearly knocked her down. It was a sea of 3s, 6s, 14s, 20s, 24s, 48s, 33s, 88s, and 91s in every color imaginable. The most impressive thing was the noise. It was unreal. The crowd was loud, but the roar of the engines easily drowned them out.

  Dawn was here because she had gotten a job as a personal assistant for one of the best drivers on the circuit: Bryan Richardson. His wife, who had been doing the job, had decided to stay at home with their young daughter. Dawn had worked for the company that sponsored Bryan’s car, heard about the job opening before the general public, and got her résumé in early. Her job with his sponsor also helped her get her foot in the door.

  Dawn had hated to leave her last job. She loved her work and the people she worked with, but this was an opportunity to travel and see the country. Growing up in rural Arkansas, these types of opportunities didn’t come along very often. She couldn’t pass it up. Dawn was also at a point in her life where she needed a change. Hopefully, during her travels, Dawn could practice her favorite hobby, photography, by taking pictures of the places and people she would see. If she had time, she would start at the world-famous beaches at Daytona, Florida. One day, Dawn hoped to open her own photography studio. It was something that her and her best friend wanted to do together but that was a far-off dream. Right now she needed a steady job that paid the bills. Hopefully, the photos she took now as she traveled with this job would be hanging on the walls of her studio, advertising her work.

  Bryan Richardson drove the red and black #33 Ford. The first thing Dawn had to do was find Bryan’s garage stall. She was in front of the entrance to the garage area, but she realized that getting in might be a problem. Everybody wanted inside the garage. There was a huge crowd, and everybody was pushing and shoving. It was times like this that Dawn was glad that she wasn’t a petite girl. At 5’8”, she could hold her own and push back if needed. She finally made it to the gate only to be stopped by a mountain of a man. “Hi,” she said. “I’m trying to find Bryan Richardson’s garage stall.”

  “Do you have a garage pass?” the mountain asked.

  “Yes.” Dawn reached into her purse, looking for the photo ID that had been sent to her. She finally found it and showed it to the guard. He quickly glanced at the picture and then at Dawn’s face. He nodded and opened the gate for her.

  “Richardson’s stall is the last one in the second building.”

  “Thank you,” Dawn said as she passed through the gate.

  “You might want to get a lanyard or necklace or something like that to hang your pass around your neck. It’ll keep it from getting stolen, and it will make getting back here a lot easier.”

  “Thanks again,” Dawn said, but she didn’t think he heard her. He was busy trying to keep an overzealous fan from climbing the fence.

  This area was crowded as well, but it was a different type of crowded. In here, it was racecars and equipment that she had to look out for in addition to people.

  “Hey, you’re new around here, aren’t you?” Dawn heard a voice from behind her say, but she couldn’t reply. She was too busy ducking out of the way of a guy pushing some kind of huge toolbox on wheels. “Hey, watch out!” the same voice said as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the way. She landed against something hard. It wasn’t a wall. It was a person. What in the world was going on?

  “Just because she wasn’t in the walkway doesn’t mean you can run her over. Watch where you’re going!” the voice yelled at the person pushing the toolbox. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the assist,” Dawn said as she dusted herself off. “What was that guy’s problem?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. You were not where you should have been, but that doesn’t give that guy the right to run you over.”

  “What do you mean I wasn’t where I should have been?” she asked as she looked at her rescuer for the first time. It was Jeremiah Jones, driver of the #91 car.

  “See the orange pathways that connect the buildings?” he said, pointing down. “Those are for pedestrians. You need to stay in them for your safety. The guys pushing equipment are supposed to watch out for people, but they can’t always see around whatever it is they’re working with,” Jeremiah answered.

  Dawn looked down at the orange path she was now standing on. She noticed that it weaved its way in front of all the buildings and intersections between them. She hadn’t noticed them earlier, because she was concentrating on looking for Bryan’s stall. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll definitely remember it,” she said.

  “I’m Jeremiah Jones.” He extended his hand to her.

  “I know,” Dawn said. She had known that she would be around famous racecar drivers, but this was her first encounter. She was a little awestruck. “I’m Dawn Montgomery, Bryan Richardson’s new personal assistant.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile.

  Dawn was embarrassed. She was still in awe from meeting her first celebrity, and now she realized that she was standing there holding his hand and staring at him. She dropped his hand. She could feel her face getting warmer and warmer, but she refused to look away from him. Her dad would’ve said it was that Montgomery stubbornness and pride. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

  “It’s okay,” he answered. “Is this your first time in the garage area?”

  “Yes. This is my first race and everything. I took a tour of this place on vacation several years ago, but it wasn’t a race weekend.”

  “Really. When was that?” Jeremiah asked.

  “March 2001. It was about a month after James Fowler was killed here. It was the only other time that I’ve been to Florida.”

  “James was the best. I didn’t get to race against him much. That was the first race of my second season, but I loved racing against him. We all still miss him,” he said with a note of sadness in his voice.

  “I wasn’t really a NASCAR fan at the time, but I still knew who he was and how his death impacted the sport.”

  “Not a NASCAR fan,” Jeremiah said as he put a hand over his heart in mock shock.

  “I like NASCAR, but to be perfectly honest, baseball is my favorite sport.”

  He leaned in close and whispered, “I wouldn’t say that too loud around here if I were you.” He leaned back and smiled.

  “Okay,” Dawn said with a laugh. He’s a funny guy, she thought. Racing is quickly becoming my second favorite sport.

  They talked for a few more minutes, and then he pointed the way to Bryan’s garage stall. He told her that he would’ve walked her there himself, but he was working on engine problems on his own car. When Dawn finally made her way to the correct garage stall and asked for Bryan Richardson, she was directed to a pair of shoes that were sticking out from under a car. “Hello, M
r. Richardson. I’m Dawn Montgomery,” she said to the feet.

  “Hello,” came a reply from under the car. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Dawn had seen the driver on TV, so she knew what he would look like. She had been told that he was a fairly large man, but when he slid out from under the car, he was larger than she had expected. He was tall and lean, but Dawn could imagine that it wasn’t easy for him to squeeze into the window of the #33 Ford. He wiped the oil off his hands and extended his right one to her. “I’m Bryan Richardson.” He released her hand and pointed to where he had been working. “Sorry about that. I knew you were coming this weekend, but I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

  “I know, but I got anxious, changed my flight, and came a day early.”

  “Well, nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Dawn replied.

  He quickly introduced her to the crew members who were there as he escorted her to a semi-private corner. He found a folding chair and unfolded it for her. She sat, and he leaned against one of those big toolboxes. This one had his colors and number on it.

  Dawn was thirty-one, and she knew that Bryan was thirty. He looked about 6’3” with black hair and blue eyes. “So what do you think about everything so far?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. “It’s a lot to take in, in a short amount of time. My mind hasn’t had a chance to process it all yet.”

  “I know that feeling. I’ve raced all my life, but going to my first NASCAR race was the most exciting thing ever. My wife says she will never get used to it. Would you like something to drink? I have soda and bottled water.”

  “Some water would be nice.”

  “One water, coming up.” He got up and got her a bottle of water from a cooler that sat nearby. He used his shirttail to wipe the condensation from the bottle and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is this your first trip to Florida?

  “No, sir. I took a vacation here in 2001. I have a cousin who lives outside of Orlando. We spent a week with her and went to Disney World. We came to Daytona to see the ocean for the first time. I wasn’t a NASCAR fan at the time. We stumbled across the racetrack by accident. We weren’t really looking for it, but when we drove by, we thought, ‘What the heck. Let’s go check it out.’ We took the tour, and I’ve been learning about NASCAR ever since.”

  “Where’s your luggage?” Bryan asked.

  “At the hotel. I stopped by there and checked in before I came over here.”

  “Good. I called the shop this morning, and they told me that all your stuff arrived yesterday afternoon.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Please don’t call me sir. I’m younger than you, and my name is Bryan,” he said with a smile. “Call me Bryan.”

  “Okay, Bryan,” she answered and returned his smile.

  “Good. Do you want to see some pictures of my daughter?”

  “You bet.”

  They spent the next half hour or so looking at pictures of Bryan’s young daughter, Lena Violet, and discussing Dawn’s responsibilities as Bryan’s personal assistant. She would be responsible for everything from booking personal appearances to making sure he had plenty of 8x10 photos for him to sign at the appearances. She would also have to cook for him from time to time and do his laundry when they were on the road and his wife was at home with the baby. Dawn was going to like working for Bryan Richardson. He was a nice guy. All the guys in the garage seemed nice, too. After they talked, Bryan gave her a tour. He showed her the car and all the tools. She didn’t understand much of it, but the guys on the crew did their best to explain it. They even promised to let her sit behind the wheel sometime. Dawn was going to make them keep that promise.

  Later that afternoon, when Dawn finally made it back to the hotel, she was exhausted. She had only meant to close her eyes for a few minutes, but the next thing she knew it was two hours later. It was 6:30 p.m. in Florida, so it would be 5:30 p.m. back home in Arkansas. She decided to call her mom.

  “Hi, Mom,” Dawn said when her mom answered the phone.

  “Hi, sweetie. How was your trip?”

  “Fine. Not too much turbulence, so that was good. I’ve got to get over my fear of flying because I’m going to be doing a lot of it for this job.”

  “I thought they traveled by motor coach,” her mom asked.

  “The coach driver does. He drives in and gets everything ready for the crew who flies in. The motor coach is where the driver lives at the track. Since I’ll be spending most of my time with Bryan, I’ll fly in with him and fly back to Charlotte after the race.”

  “Where will you live in Charlotte?” Mom asked. “When will you be able to look for an apartment?”

  “I met Bryan today. He said something about having a place I could stay for a while. I think he said it was a guesthouse on his property behind his house.”

  “Did your stuff get there yet?”

  “Yes. Bryan said he checked on it this morning.”

  “He seems pretty organized,” Mom said. “Why does he need a personal assistant?”

  “ I do all the organizational stuff, help with the fan club, and so on. That way those things don’t interfere with racing. He said he really thinks he can win the championship this year.”

  “I see,” Mom said.

  “C’mon, Mom. You know I needed to get away from Jasper.”

  “I know. It’s just hard to see you go. I worry.”

  “I know,” Dawn said. “But—”

  “I understand. That reminds me, Kevin called again today.”

  “You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”

  “No. I didn’t tell him anything. I told him not to call anymore, and then I hung up on him.”

  “Thanks,” Dawn said.

  “I can’t believe the way he treated you—” her mom started.

  “Mom,” Dawn interrupted. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I know, but I get so mad. I could—”

  “Mom, please.” Dawn desperately tried to change the subject. “How’s Dad?”

  “He just got home from work a few minutes ago. He’s outside. You know how he is. He just loves to see what he can find to do outside. He had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

  “To check his blood sugar?”

  “Yes. The last time he had it checked it was a little too high. So he wasn’t looking forward to this visit. But it was okay this time, so he is relieved.”

  “I gotta go. Tell him, Pat, and Shane that I said hi and that I love them. I love you, too.”

  “I love you, Dawn,” her mom replied. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Dawn woke up early the next morning. She pulled her jet-black hair back into a ponytail and left for the track. Bryan had mentioned that race people were allowed to jog on the track before 8:00 a.m., before the work day started. Back home, she would’ve had to do several laps at the local park to do a mile, but here one lap was 2 1/2 miles. She had gone about a quarter of the way around the track when she heard someone call to her.

  “Hey, Dawn.”

  She looked around and saw Jeremiah waving at her from the side of the track. He was dressed for jogging. She jogged over to where he stood.

  “Hello,” she said. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Same here,” he replied. “I hate to jog alone. Do you need a jogging buddy?”

  “Sure,” she answered. As they jogged along, she tried to remember what she knew about him. He made it up to the Winston Cup, now called the Sprint Cup, series in 2000 at the age of twenty-seven. That would make him about thirty-three, two years older than Dawn. He came in second for that years’ Rookie of the Year honor. He drove the #91 Dodge, sponsored by a furniture compa
ny. He had been in the running for the championship last year, but bad luck in the last few races had ended that chance.

  He was jogging a little ahead of her. It gave her an opportunity to check him out. He was about six feet tall. He was muscular but not too bulky. He had short, dark-brown hair—what her mom would call “clean cut.” She couldn’t see his eyes from this angle, but if she remembered correctly, they were green.

  “So, how is everything so far?” he asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Great. Bryan is a really nice guy. I think I’m going to enjoy working for him. Everybody I’ve met has been nice, too. I’m looking forward to watching qualifying this afternoon.”

  “Qualifying is different for the Daytona 500. We have two short races, and the drivers line up on race day according to how they finish those races.”

  “I’m still trying to remember all the rules and regulations. Bryan sent me a rulebook, but I think it is with my things in Charlotte.” They had been enjoying a slow pace for conversation sake, but Dawn noticed when she sped up, in order to keep up with him, he would speed up again. “It must be true what they say about racing being in the blood.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asked her.

  “You make sure to stay a little ahead of me. If I try to catch up, you speed up just enough to stay a step or two ahead.”

  He laughed. “I can’t help it. I have to be ahead on the track. I don’t even notice it until someone points it out. Maybe that is why drivers usually jog alone.”

  Now it was her turn to laugh. “Is jogging all you do to stay in shape?” she asked as they slowed down to a brisk walk.

  “I swim when I can. I don’t have a pool at home, and I don’t have time to go to the gym. I have some free weights that I keep on the coach, but I don’t use them as much as I should. What about you?”

  “Mostly jogging but I like aerobics, too. Hopefully, I can get into a class in Charlotte.” They finished the lap in silence.

  “What are your plans for today?” Jeremiah asked as they were cooling down.