Joey
My limbs were shaking more than normal. The tremble in my fingers was only quieted when I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
I’d been scared out there. I couldn’t really allow that thought into my head when I’d been on the track. I couldn’t allow myself to realize some of the heart-pumping, skin-quaking emotion I knew as I raced today was because I was being ganged up on.
I was lucky today. Lucky I hadn’t ended up in a multiple-car pile-up.
Lucky I hadn’t been killed.
But…
I was still alive, and I was smiling.
Second place!
It hadn’t mattered what Cannon or any of the other drivers tried out there. They didn’t pull it off. But I did.
We did.
Jace and I.
The second my car screeched to a halt, my hands worked ferociously to undo my harness so I could get out.
It seemed to take forever. My limbs felt like Jell-O, and mental exhaustion pulled me down.
Strong, sure hands pushed mine away, deftly removing the restraints. I looked up. Jace was there, the headset around his neck now, his hair standing up like he’d been running his hands through it and his olive skin seeming fairer than usual despite the sun.
He looked like solace.
He smelled like home, and he felt like relief.
I ripped off my headgear, gloves, and sunglasses. Jace had the straps undone, and then I was out of the car. The fresh outdoor air brushed against my cheeks. I launched myself at Jace. He caught me, his arms like vises around my back.
“You tore it up out there!” he exclaimed.
I laughed. “Second place!”
“That was some of the most levelheaded driving I’ve ever seen, baby. God, I’m proud of you.”
He was proud, and it felt almost as good as that win I fought for.
Not many people told me they were proud. Mostly, I just told myself. I thought it was good enough until I heard it from Jace’s mouth.
Now, good enough wouldn’t be near enough ever again.
“Holy shit!” Drew said from close behind. “Joey, that was awesome.”
Jace put me down, and I hugged Drew and then Trent. Hopper was standing there, looking a little worse for the wear. His too-long hair was wild, the hat he’d had on long gone, and the corners of his eyes seemed pinched. But he made up for it with a relieved smile.
“That was impressive,” he said and yanked me into a hug.
When I pulled back, I said quietly, “Did you see?”
His full, dark brows drew down. “Oh, I saw. It will be dealt with.”
I didn’t say anything else because people swarmed us. I stepped back a little, overwhelmed and, honestly, still shaken.
My back came up against a familiar chest, and I melted against him for long seconds before straightening away.
His hand enfolded mine, and I took strength from his touch as the press and everyone crowded in. I answered a few questions, smiled for the cameras, and then Hopper told them all to move back.
“Give the woman time to celebrate! She’ll answer questions after the trophies are presented,” he called and waved everyone back.
Arrow stepped up beside us and grinned, his blond hair falling over his forehead.
“You owned it out there.” He smiled, a little shy.
I bounded forward and hugged him tight. He hesitated a second, but then his arms came around me, and I smiled against his shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said, only loud enough for him to hear.
When we pulled apart, I noted Jace watching us, a warm look in his eyes. He stepped up to me, anchoring his arm around my waist.
Beers started being passed around, and a celebratory feeling went through the air. Even though I was excited about the win, my nerves were still strung tight. I hoped the beer in my hand would help me relax, but my throat still felt too constricted to drink it.
“Josie, you doing okay?” Jace leaned in to whisper in my ear.
I glanced up, nodding. “Yeah, it was just intense.”
His eyes darkened, lips thinned. “Yeah, too intense.”
I felt the guys around me wanting to ask about it, but it was almost like a subject no one wanted to touch. I understood that way more than anyone else could, and I definitely was in no hurry to explain. Hell, I didn’t even think I could.
It was getting out of hand… News of my crossover was making it worse.
Nearby, there was some commotion, and I heard some yelling from the press. I craned my neck to see what was going on. Drew, Trent, Arrow, and Jace all did the same.
An odd feeling of foreboding washed over me. It left me overheated, sticky, and churned up inside. My hand gripped the bottle of beer like it was a lifeline… or maybe a weapon.
The crowd parted as three men, all in suits and ties, one with a clipboard and a frown, headed our way through the pit. I swallowed down the vomit rising up in my throat.
This isn’t good.
I ripped my eyes away from the men to find Hopper and signal with a mayday look. In seconds, he was there, swiftly at my side. Before he could even ask me what was wrong, he noticed the men. His body stiffened.
Drew wasn’t far away, and we locked eyes. He frowned, smacking Trent in the side, who then also noticed. It seemed everyone noticed them in that second. All the noise and celebration died down to be replaced with the kind of eerie silence I’d only heard in movies, up until now.
Jace sensed whatever was about to happen, too, reaching out and trying to pull me into the shelter of his body. I wanted to be there, I craved the shelter, but I couldn’t accept it. I needed to face this on my own.
I kinda want him, though.
“Ms. Gamble,” the man with the clipboard said, reaching us.
“That’s me,” I answered.
“The inspection of your car just a few moments ago has provided us with some troubling conclusions.”
“Is there something wrong with my car?” I asked, alarmed, looking around for it, even though I knew it wasn’t out here. My stomach twisted, and my palms became clammy.
“As a professional driver, we know you’ve been made aware of the strict policy of making no changes on your car after the inspection the day of the race.”
“Of course,” I said, confused.
“We inspect the cars again right before the race, then right after,” he said.
I made a sound. “I know that. What are you saying?”
“Your car has been worked on since the inspection this morning. Unpermitted modifications have been made.”
“What?” I said, my own voice like an echo inside my head. I didn’t understand. I didn’t make any changes to my car. I wouldn’t. Nor could I! I’d been driving it for crying out loud.
The man nodded, referring to his notes like he didn’t know exactly what he’d come here to say. Around us, the press was watching, red lights on cameras blinking and everyone waiting with bated breath to see what this official would say.
In other words, the air was scented with scandal, and the media loved a good scandal.
“Your lift plate has been adjusted to allow more oxygen in, which, as you know, results in the ability to go faster.”
“That’s insane!” Jace bit out.
A wonky, unbalanced feeling came over me. The press started going crazy, yelling out questions, cameras going off. All the noise around us pressed in, becoming almost unbearable.
I glanced at Hopper, unable to form any words. He frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said.
“It’s not,” the man said. “I have the inspection report right here.”
“Let me see,” Hopper insisted and held out his hand.
“As Ms. Gamble’s manager, I’m afraid you are also suspect in this, and we are not required to show you any of our reports.”
“That’s ridiculous!” he fumed.
“We have no choice but to disqualify you from today’s race. The professional
division of racing does not take lightly to cheating.”
And just like that, the bubble I was floating in burst. They were taking away my win. Making out like what I did out there today—the way I survived and pulled through—was nothing.
“Are you kidding!” I gasped. “I have never cheated! I didn’t modify my car. If that report”—I jabbed my finger at his clipboard— “shows tampering, then I want to speak with this facilities manager. My car was supposed to be safe here. It was to be under strict lock and key. If someone modified it, then I want to know who it was!”
You already know…
The thought stopped me cold. I gasped and stepped back into Jace. My eyes tore around until I found who I was looking for.
The guy on my pit crew, the one who’d looked at me so strangely during my final pit stop.
It was you…
His eyes widened. Then he looked away. But not before I caught the stench of guilt wafting off him.
“It was my pit crew!” I panted. “They must have messed with my car when I wasn’t looking!”
The official gave me a wilting look. “Are you saying the pit crew you hired—your own staff—adjusted your car without your knowledge?” I started to say something, but he cut me off. “Because this division would find it very hard to believe a driver’s own pit crew would sabotage their own race.”
It was hard to believe, but that had to be it. I wobbled on my feet. Betrayal at every turn. Deceit surrounded me.
All this time. All these years I fought for respect. It all felt like it had been for nothing right now.
Did no one respect me? Did no one think I deserved to be here today?
“I didn’t do this.” I sounded hollow to my own ears. My stomach lurched, bile rose up in my throat, and my chest became so tight it hurt to breathe.
“You’re claiming you didn’t know about the changes made to your car?” The official scoffed.
“I’m not claiming anything!” I snapped. “I’m saying it to be true.”
“Look, Ms. Gamble, we know who your father is—”
I lurched forward, pushing my face so close he actually stepped back. “Don’t you dare bring him into this! This isn’t about him. I am my own person, separate from my father.”
He acted like he didn’t even hear me. “Maybe you thought we would overlook your… changes because of him, because you placed second. Or maybe you just thought he would write a check and make it all go away.”
I made an outraged sound and moved forward again.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist and towed me back. My chest heaved as I tried to breathe. I shook so badly I was afraid if it weren’t for Jace holding me, I’d fall down.
I glanced around. My ruin was going public. It was probably being broadcast on the news right now. I’d been dogged out there on the track today. Everyone worked as a unit against me. And now this…
They were chipping away at everything I had. My career, my pride, my reputation.
Anger so hot whipped through me it burned. “You actually think I would tamper with my own car, that I need to cheat to win a race?” I yelled.
The official without the clipboard seemed to have an answer ready. “Maybe the renewed media interest in your crossover and subsequently your career has put pressure on you to win so your crossover will be more publicized.”
I laughed. It was a strangled and unfortunately helpless sound. I was going to break down right here. Right now.
Everyone would see just how weak I really was.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” a very familiar voice ground out beside me ear. “You peckers aren’t actually standing there implying you think she did this. She said she didn’t.” Jace unwrapped his arm from around my waist and stepped forward, challenging the men. Trent stepped up beside me, and Drew took up position on my other side. Thank God for them…
What if they leave you when they find out how weak you are?
“Why would anyone else want to modify her car?” the man retorted.
“To get me disqualified!” I burst out.
“Surely there is something that can be done.” Drew spoke up.
Hopper was shaking his head, a scowl on his face. He knew as well as I did what that answer was going to be.
“It doesn’t work that way. She was caught with a modified car. She knows the regulations and the consequences.” He looked at me. “You’re out. There is no win here for you today. Pack up and go. The division will be in touch with your management as to what this will mean for your future races.”
It was my final blow in the epic battle that was today.
Jace pulled me against his side, and I leaned against him for a moment while my head swirled with doom.
My career was over. I drove like mad today. I literally beat the odds—the men trying to tear me down—out there today. I showed everyone I deserved to be on the track.
I won.
I won only to be disqualified after and was accused of cheating.
Even if they let me race again, I would be branded a cheat. I would lose sponsors and credibility. The press was going to eat me alive for this. My father was going to go ballistic.
The man with the clipboard ripped off a piece of paper from the stack and held it out to me. On the top it read: NOTICE OF DISQUALIFICATION.
I stared at it with contempt and shock. Hopper reached out and took it when it became clear I wasn’t going to.
I couldn’t accept this. I wouldn’t.
The men with their suits and judgmental expressions strode away. I gazed after them, anger beginning to build.
Hopper stepped in my line of vision. His features were nothing but a blur in front of my eyes. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I won’t let this touch your career.”
“It already has,” I told him. “No matter what, I’m out today. All that out there”—I flung my hand toward the track— “was for nothing.”
He nodded, grim. “You’re out today.”
“Not for nothing!” Jace argued. “There has to be something we can do.”
“There is, but not today. They won’t change their mind on the win. They won’t even bring out the car. They’ll confiscate it,” Hopper told him.
“Who would do this, Joey?” Drew asked, his voice hard.
I shook my head. I couldn’t… My head was spinning.
“Why?” Drew pressed when I didn’t reply, his hands balled into fists.
I glanced at Hopper. “They’re that pissed?” I rasped.
He paled. He actually staggered back a step. “They wouldn’t…”
But they would.
“What?” Jace demanded, his voice wholly suspicious.
I swallowed. “My teammates,” I spat. “The other pros I drive with. They’re pissed I’m crossing over. They hated me before… but now it’s worse.”
“I need to make some calls,” Hopper said. The paper in his hand crinkled in his fist. “I won’t except this. I’ll take it to the top of the division if I have to.” He pulled out his cell and strode away with angry, quick strides.
The entire crew was standing around looking at me. Some were whispering. My eyes found the man I suspected of making the change to the lift plate. I made sure my stare drilled into his.
He turned and walked away.
“Wait a minute!” I yelled and raced after him. The entire crowd seemed to follow me.
I grabbed him by the arm, and he looked over his shoulder.
“Why?” I asked him, low.
He jerked away from me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t!” I growled.
“What’s going on?” Jace demanded.
“Don’t blame me because you got caught cheating,” the mechanic said.
I jerked like he slapped me.
His words were like salt in the wound. He just denied what I know he did, and he not only did it in front of the press, but he implied he knew it was me who ordered it.
Paparazzi descended like buzzards on roadkill. They smelled defeat, and they wanted it on camera, captured on film so the entire world could see my ruin, and I would have record of it for the rest of my life.
“Joey G., do you have a comment on being disqualified from today’s race?”
“Joey G., why would you cheat?”
“Joey G., do you think your actions will affect Gamble Enterprises?”
They fired at me like bullets out of a machine gun, so many questions with so much force. Each of them hit me; each of them pierced my skin.
The walls were closing in on me. I needed to breathe.
Don’t let them see you bleed.
“No comment!” I yelled, stepping away from Jace and straightening. The questions kept coming. The mics were in my face. People stared at me as if I were a criminal.
“Do you think today was your last race?” someone yelled out.
I snapped. Like broke in half.
“No more!” I screamed and threw my arms up in the air. “Pack the fuck up!” I roared.
Everyone stopped and stared. They acted like they were in shock at my outburst. It pissed me off. I was in shock. Not them.
It lasted maybe three seconds. Then everyone burst back into a flurry of movement.
“Joey,” Drew said, stepping to my side.
I pulled away from him. From everyone. I felt Jace’s stare, but I refused to look. I was so angry. So shocked. If I looked at him even once, I’d probably cry.
Crying was the worst thing I could do.
No.
The worst thing I could do was see the look in Jace’s eyes. The condemnation.
“I’m gonna go grab my bag,” I said to no one in particular and went swiftly toward the giant locker rooms for the drivers and staff.
They were co-ed down here on the track, ‘cause you know, up until I started driving, there wasn’t any reason for a female bathroom on a male-driven raceway. It would be discrimination to keep me out, so instead of making changes to the buildings, most places added another sign to the door, one of a figure in a dress right beside the male one.
I didn’t care. What difference did it make? There were stalls, and it wasn’t like I’d never seen a urinal before. Or a penis. I barely ventured past the lockers anyway. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even go in there at all if I didn’t want a place to lock up my bag and some extra clothes.
#Swag (GearShark #3) Page 26
