Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports)

by Fox, Sutton

“Yes.” Giggling with pleasure, Annie reached for the stack Morgan held out. The little girl held them as if they were made of gold. Annie carefully handed them to her one at a time so Morgan could bend the end and fasten each one to the clear face of the visor.

  “Hi, Morgan. You’re always busy, aren’t you?” Tyler’s sister, Stephanie, stepped away from the door, where she’d stopped when Annie rushed in.

  Tall and thin, even in casual dress, she looked like an ad for a women’s fashion magazine. Perfectly groomed hair cut in the latest style, full make up. The devil in Morgan wondered how long it would take red dust to stick to all that foundation. Oh, three laps next to the fence ought to do it. The angel in her wondered if she’d ever looked that good in a pair of jeans. The woman in her knew it was wrong to hate Stephanie when the answer was no.

  “Yeah, well, there’s a lot to do.” The darn woman kept staring at her and Annie like they were bugs under a microscope. What was her problem? “Is there another dilemma?”

  Stephanie shuffled her feet, appearing a little nervous, her face revealing a shy smile. “No, no problem. You’re just so good with her.” She waved her hand in Annie’s direction. “So patient.”

  Morgan wanted to roll her eyes as she held back a snarky retort. Fluttering women weren’t her strong suit. They tended to find her last nerve and stomp on it with their dainty, kitten-heeled shoes. “Well, she’s a kid. I try.”

  She reached down to ruffle Annie’s hair and couldn’t stop the smile from sneaking out. “By the way, Stephanie, congratulations on your new niece.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for taking Annie on such short notice the other day. I know Tyler really appreciated it. So did I. I really got myself in a bind.”

  “No problem. We had fun didn’t we?” Morgan winked at Annie and reached for her helmet. “Okay, kid. Let’s see how they work.” She put the helmet on Annie’s head. “Now, this is what you do.” Morgan grasped Annie’s small hand in her own and raised it to the flipped end of the tear-off.

  Morgan used her other hand to reach for the muddy cloth she’d used earlier. She put a big smear of mud across the visor. Annie frowned inside. “Here, Annie, pull. Like this.”

  She brought the child’s hand forward in a snapping motion, ripping one thin dirty sheet off the face-shield. The clean and clear ones remained.

  “Ohhh.” Annie exhaled an excited breath. “I want to do it.” Her petite fingers reached up to grab the next one. Pull, snap.

  Pull, snap. Giggle. Pull, snap. Giggle. She pressed her hands to the face-shield and crossed her eyes at Morgan.

  Morgan laughed. Mesmerized, she watched Annie pull all seven brand new tear-offs from her helmet while the little girl’s head bobbled inside. They were wasted, she knew, but Annie looked so darn cute doing it.

  “I’ve got to take a look at the race track. Would you ladies like to come along?”

  Annie nodded quickly, making Morgan laugh again when the helmet slid back and forth on her head. She looked like one of those little bobble-head dolls.

  “Sure,” Stephanie answered a little hesitantly. “If we’re not bothering you.”

  “You’re not the bother, believe me. If Blake here wasn’t such a nice guy, he’d have been out on his ear a long time ago.” Morgan motioned to the cameraman, standing just inside the door of the hauler filming their every move.

  Morgan carefully removed the helmet from the child’s head, careful not to snag her ears, and spoke to Stephanie. “Well, I won’t bite you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Are you always this nervous?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just so out of my league here. I don’t know much about racing, especially this kind. Except it’s dirty, exciting, loud and you have to be really careful in the pits.” Her eyes twinkled, reminding Morgan of their first unsuccessful meeting. Maybe they could be friends after all.

  “Well then, it’s time for Dirt Racing 101. Let’s go have your first lesson at the fence.” Morgan stood to the side and motioned them forward with a little bow. “Shall we?”

  *

  Tyler paced back and forth in the track office, holding a cell phone close to his ear. “No, Sam. After this event, we’re taking a few days off.”

  He combed his fingers through his hair in irritation. Sam wanted them to keep filming. “I realize stressed contestants make a better show.” Frustrated steps carried him to the door and back again.

  Everyone was beat. He’d never let on he was tired. Sam would have him replaced in a minute if he sensed weakness. “It’s not the contestants, it’s the crew. It’s been five weeks, Sam. Seven days a week. They need a break or you won’t have a show.”

  Jim O’Bannon walked in without knocking, followed by his cameraman. So much for privacy. Just what he needed, another asshole to deal with. Three more weeks and the show would be finished. At least as far as the contestants and crew were concerned.

  “I’ll call you later, Sam. I’ve got to go.” Tyler closed his phone with a snap. He met Jim’s eyes, working to keep the irritation out of his. Unfortunately, it didn’t carry over to his voice. “Yes?” he snapped. Piss ant.

  The shorter man bristled at Tyler’s tone of voice. Tyler watched him visibly stiffen. “I want to know what you’re going to do about Morgan Blade.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s cheating.”

  “What do you mean, she’s cheating?” Great, there was one on every show. Every time they lost, it was someone else’s fault.

  “Withholding information and using unfair tactics.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” Tyler sat behind the track owner’s desk and steepled his fingers, doing his best to rein in his own temper.

  “You know she’s lost her sponsor, right?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. It doesn’t violate the rules of her contract on the show.” He’d bet it would make it hard for her to keep racing afterward, though.

  “Do you know why she lost her sponsor?”

  “No, and it’s none of my business.” Tyler watched the little rat’s wheels turn, trying to think of another excuse.

  “She tried to make me fail the challenge in South Carolina with her dumb-ass prank.”

  “That’s exactly what it was, a stupid prank. And you didn’t fail. If memory serves, you beat her anyway.” He flattened his hands on the desk in an effort to hide his irritation. I’d like to beat him up, myself. Arrogant little miscreant.

  Just because Jim’s father owned a chain of auto parts stores, he thought it made him powerful by association. Spoiled brat. For whatever reason, this guy really had an ax to grind with Morgan.

  It was bad enough Ryan McCarthy from Indianapolis was threatening to sue over what he felt was his unjust removal from the show. Funny, Ryan didn’t think crashing a truck worth well into six figures was a big deal. Now this.

  For whatever quirky reason, television fans had loved the first few episodes. Everyone was tuning in. The press would have a field day if any of this leaked out. His head started to pound.

  A walkie-talkie sitting upright on the desk squawked and a crackling voice spoke into the room. “First call, sprint cars, we need you in staging. Now.”

  Tyler wanted to laugh with relief. Saved by an unknown voice. He could get out of here, find Annie and Stephanie, then settle down and actually watch the main event. Tyler stood up and looked down at Jim. This conversation was over as far as he was concerned. “I believe that’s your cue.”

  Jim glared at him, “If you don’t do something about her, I will.” He stormed out, slamming the office door.

  Tyler shook his head. One more headache he could do without.

  *

  Morgan heard the official’s voice call them to staging. It was time for this evening’s main event. Challenge number six. This place had a reputation as one of the toughest little dirt bullrings in Tennessee. To her it was like any other clay oval, just another day at the office.

&nb
sp; She remembered her promise to Annie.

  “Annie, do you remember our deal?”

  Annie nodded enthusiastically as the three of them headed from the fence line back to the hauler. Annie held both their hands while they swung her in the air. She landed with a laugh.

  “Do you recall where it’s at?” Again, another excited nod.

  “Tell you what, I’m going to get in my race car. You take Stephanie with you to get it and I’ll wait for you. How’s that?”

  “Okay.” Annie pointed a tiny index finger at Morgan. “But don’t you go anywhere.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Morgan tried to answer as solemnly as she could, faced with blonde pigtails and an exuberant grin. What a sweet child. It spoke volumes to her about Annie’s father and the rest of the family.

  Annie grabbed her aunt by the hand and led her away as Morgan quickly put a new set of tear-offs on her helmet. She grabbed it, along with her gloves, and headed to the car.

  Annie came trundling quickly around the corner with a confused-looking Stephanie in tow. “You sent her to get a shoe? I thought she was confused.”

  “No. She knew.” Morgan waved at Annie and reached her hand out of the car. Ignoring Stephanie’s questioning glance, she focused on the child. Wearing a look of accomplishment, Annie handed her the soft baby moccasin. Morgan slipped it in her pocket, where it belonged.

  Strapped in the sprint car, safety gear in place, Morgan let herself be pushed backward out of the pit stall. Before she rolled away, she gave Annie a thumbs up.

  Annie mirrored the thumbs up gesture, standing between Stephanie and Jack. She smiled proudly at Morgan, and all three waved goodbye.

  *

  Green flag! Go! Go! Go!

  Morgan mashed the gas pedal and the sprint car leapt forward, roaring like an angry lion. Finally released from its chains, it bounded into turn one, streaking through the corner. Her world narrowed, all her senses focused. Adrenaline pumped through her, hot and powerful. It filled her body with endorphins, making her feel sleek and strong.

  Invincible.

  Twenty-four sprint cars raced around the track fighting for position. Her hands light on the wheel, she kept her thumbs close to her fingers and not wrapped around. She worked it back and forth. Pain punched her high and hard in the shoulder. She’d barely seen the rock thrown from the car in front of her before it hit her. Ouch!

  Morgan barely had time to think it before she slid around the next corner, pedaling the gas and brake. Working the groove.

  Engines thundered and screamed as they drove. She searched, like every other driver, for the fastest line around the track. The strongest in front led the way. The weakest always fell behind.

  She came out of turn four hard on the gas. Morgan could see the number seven of Jim O’Bannon slide up beside and past her, taking over the third position. He almost touched her left front wheel with his right rear one. What a slide job that was.

  Smug S.O.B. thought he was so special. She drove the car harder and faster, to the edge of control. Morgan flashed up next to Jim. She sawed at the steering wheel, feeling every bump and rut on the track, bounced around like an orb in a pinball machine. Her car edged closer and closer, working the outside line. The flag stand came into view; she could see the flagman holding down his right hand, fingers spread wide open.

  Five laps to go.

  Morgan willed the car to go faster, driving deep and hard into turn one. Jim fought her for position, moving to the outside.

  Mud worked into dust covered her face shield and seeped through the seal of her helmet. With stinging eyes, she reached up to the side of her helmet and pulled one of the thin, clear layered tear-off sheets away so she could see again. She released the slight piece of film to float into the air, saw smoke up ahead and smelled burnt rubber—the tell tale signs of a used-up right rear tire. Being the largest of the four tires, she knew they had the most pressure on them. Physics always came into play and made them the first to go.

  Lightly tapping the brake with her left foot, she moved down the track to avoid Bobby Harms. His car slowed with an uneven wobble and roll that told her he’d broken something besides his tire. She quickly worked the throttle with her right foot and rapidly maneuvered her car around Bobby’s, while his car hobbled into the pits, preventing a caution flag from being thrown.

  In less than the blink of an eye, Jim was there. He passed her while she slowed for the injured car. Back on the gas hard without thinking, she knew Jim would beat her into the next corner. To and fro they struggled, changing position every corner. They became more desperate with every lap, each driven to beat the other. Closer and closer they came, wheels nearly touched time after time. Each of them mentally and physically wrestling, sweating, and fighting for the same spot.

  Jim passed her again on the inside going into turn three close enough to reach out and touch. Morgan rushed up on the outside and forced her car deep and fast into the corner. She felt her front tire hit a rut as it blazed into turn four.

  The front end of the car lurched, throwing itself crazily to the left. She fought for control, nailed the throttle and turned the car to the right. If she could save them both, it had to be now. She turned the wheel and Jim’s right rear tire was there. Next to her left front one.

  Too late! Morgan felt the contact. The tires slipped and rolled, tangled and bit—polar magnets driven together, forced apart.

  Her world tilted.

  The horizon rose before her, a Van Gogh painting. Vivid green trees of every shade blended like brush strokes. Bright lights and dark sky spun wildly together, held motionless and silent in a clear Tennessee sky.

  Airborne at over one hundred miles per hour is not good. She felt frozen in a single moment of time, a slight breath, a shift of wind.

  Morgan knew she was now along for the ride, an innocent bystander sucked into the forces of the universe. She could feel her stomach lurch, her body strain against the safety harness as her car twirled through the air. She let go of the steering wheel with a fleeting thought not to break her wrists.

  A trick of the mind, in slow motion she could see parts flying into the air. In the same moment, propelled fast forward into the vortex, she could see the ground rushing up to meet her. With no time to utter a prayer, she closed her eyes. On impact, the crunch of metal roared in her ears. Annie’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, just before the world went black.

  Chapter 14

  “Morgan, Morgan, come back to us,” the safety worker commanded. Peering into her face from inches away, he raised her visor. “Wake up Morgan. There’s a fuel leak and we’ve got to get you out of here.”

  Closed eyes opened slowly, tried to focus. As Morgan gathered her wits about her, she realized three things at once. The horrible pressure on her shoulders was from her safety belts. She was upside down. Something very cold and wet soaked the back of her drivers’ suit. The burning, tingling sensation on her back and the caustic smell told her it was fuel, again. Damn.

  “Be very still while I cut your belts. Jimmy will hold on to you.”

  She felt the panic of every driver. They could tear up their own racecars, but the safety workers best not destroy any of the racer’s equipment trying to save them. Hanging her racecar from the safety fence was somewhere in her job description. She was sure of it.

  “No, no, don’t cut them. I can get out,” Morgan said quickly. “Just hold me and I’ll release them.”

  Although the methanol would evaporate fairly quickly, there was still a danger of fire. Morgan needed to hurry so she wouldn’t endanger the safety crew. She reached for the quick release near her crotch, and braced her left arm on the roll bar. With two sets of hands holding her in position, the quick pull of the hook turned her loose.

  Because she was small, it was no strain for the safety workers to help her slip through the top of the roll cage and out of the car. With the top wing ripped off, it only took a few seconds, since there was nothing in the way to block he
r exit.

  They flipped her over, and her feet hit the dirt with a bone-jarring thud. She bent quickly at the waist, trying to catch her breath as blood rushed to her lower limbs. Feeling light-headed and awkward, she turned to acknowledge the cheering fans with a wave, and headed toward the waiting ambulance.

  Once inside, she took off her helmet and gloves, letting the safety crew have their way. They checked her pupils, took her blood pressure, and poked at her from every angle it was possible to poke someone who still had their clothes on.

  The ambulance moved slowly around the track, headed to the pit area. The ride seemed to take forever. It was always embarrassing to wind up in the ambulance. A necessary evil, it mortified her. Assuring the safety crew she felt fine and nothing was broken took several precious minutes.

  “I’m fine. I just need to see to my car.” Narrowing her eyes, she held open hands out toward the earnest young EMT, waving him off.

  “Are you sure nothing hurts?” The safety worker enquired. “That was a pretty rough tumble.” His voice was full of concern for his patient. “You should go to the hospital and have x-rays on your neck and back.”

  “Really, I’m okay. Now that the little birds have stopped circling my head, I’m fine. I promise if anything hurts even the slightest bit, I’ll have it looked at.”

  Shaking from adrenaline overload, Morgan stepped carefully down the stairs of the ambulance. Her legs were weak, and her hands trembled when she turned to look at her car coming around the corner on the end of the tow truck. Nausea reared its ugly head, making her stomach sick. This was the last thing she needed.

  Holding her helmet and gloves, she stood at the end of her pit stall and motioned to the truck driver so he would know where to drop the twisted pile of metal. While the car was unhooked from the tow truck, her crew, along with a few curious fans, gathered around shaking their heads and pointing. Morgan stared at the car, noting the flat tires, bent rims, broken rods, shocks and torn sheet metal. Looking at the mess only increased her frustration. It was so not a good time for this to happen.