Frankie lost it completely and collapsed against me laughing uncontrollably. “Right here, brother,” I called.
I managed to get Frankie loaded into the backseat of the car, and we headed in the direction of I hoped was toward Luke’s.
“Who’s mixing your fuel for you?”
I looked over at Frankie. She was leaning against the window with her head face pointed at me. “Remy has been doing it.”
She nodded. “Good. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Worried about it, doll?”
She folded her arms over her chest and looked out the window. “No, of course not,” she lied. If she didn’t care, then she wouldn’t have asked.
“You come back with me, and you can take care of it yourself.”
“I’m not ready to come back, Brooks.”
She didn’t say she wouldn't come back, just that she wasn’t ready to yet. “I hear you, doll.” I wasn’t going to push her anymore.
At least, not right now.
Frankie was going to come back to Cummings Racing.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind about it.
She just needed time.
*
Chapter Nine
Frankie
“Shh.” I buried my face in the couch and smashed a pillow over my head.
“Are you sick?”
“Um, no, honey. Aunt Frankie just stayed out a little late last night.”
I felt the couch move next to my head and peeked out from under the pillow to see Violet’s ass next to my head. “Go away,” I groaned.
“Can you run to your room and make sure your hover board is charging? We’re gonna go to the park in a bit and you can drive it there.”
Thank God for Violet realizing I was not up to adulting and telling Ash just why I was dying on the couch.
She patted me on the head and tsked. “Hungover?”
Hungover wasn't even the word for it. Four beers had completely annihilated me. I groaned and slowly nodded my head.
“What time did you get in?”
“Last night,” I grumbled.
“I kinda figured that,” she laughed. “I’m assuming you had lost all sense of time with Brooks.”
I slid the pillow off my face and glared up at Violet. “I’d much rather answer Ash’s questions than yours. Please send him back in and you can leave.”
“Not happening. I need all of the details about your dinner with Brooks.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m going to need a pot of coffee before I can even start discussing this with you.”
“How about an energy drink?”
I cracked open one eye. She waved a can of my favorite fruit punch flavored energy drink. “Open it.” I didn’t even think I was capable of getting off the couch, let alone getting my fingers to work enough to open the can. She wanted all of the details then she was going to have to work for it.
“Sit up. At least a little bit. I have to deal with Luke and Ash constantly spilling on the couch. I’m not up to figuring out how to get fruit punch out of the fabric.”
Ugh. I closed my eyes and turned onto my elbow. I pushed up and groaned. “I am never drinking again.”
Violet handed me the can. “I think I’ve heard those words come out of your mouth before.”
“Not very supportive, Vi.” I grabbed the can and took a tentative sip. My stomach rolled slightly, and I set the can on the floor. “Can we delay this conversation ‘til May?”
“Frankie, it’s June.”
I knew it was. Hopefully making Violet wait a year before the fifty questions would make her forget about Brooks. “Yes.” I plopped back down on the coach and laid my arm over my eyes.
“I’m taking that yes as you’re ready to talk.”
Sweet Jesus. She wasn’t going to let this go. “You have five minutes, and then I’m going back to sleep.”
“Gah, that isn’t nearly enough time. Let me gather my thoughts.” She was silent for about one point two seconds. “Where did you go?”
“Dinner.”
“What did you eat?”
“Pizza and breadsticks.” These questions weren’t half bad so far.
“What did you drink?”
My stomach rolled at the thought of drinking. “Beer. It was good beer until it made me drunk.”
“That’s kind of what happens when you drink.”
“Rubbing my face in it isn’t nice.”
I felt her settle back into the couch. “That’s what sister-in-law’s are for. If I don’t give you shit, then who will?”
“Uh, my three brothers and Leelee.”
“True,” she murmured. “So what did you guys talk about?”
“Terry McDougal. Pepper flakes. I don’t hate him anymore.” That was the short rundown.
“Hold up, hold up,” she insisted. “We are going to have to go over each of those one by one. Let’s start with Terry McDougal.”
“We agreed he’s a dick, though I think he bugs Brooks more than the average person since he’s the guy who keeps winning.”
“I second the fact that the guy is a dick. I know you’ve more than likely met him, but I can just tell from when Luke watches the races he is a dick.”
Violet always rooted for the underdog, so I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t like McDougal.
“Now onto the red pepper flakes.”
“The pepper flakes intertwine with me not hating him anymore.”
Violet laughed. “You wouldn’t be a Jensen if you didn’t have weird stories that involve things that really don’t belong together.”
“Brooks had to eat a handful of red pepper flakes, and then I wouldn’t hate him anymore.”
“He did it?” she gasped.
I moved my arm and looked up at her. “Yep, and he swallowed it all. I’m sure he’s shitting fire this morning. I bet that’ll be real fun on the trip home.” I couldn’t help but snicker at the thought of Brooks having to climb over a row of people on the plane to get to the bathroom cause his butt was on fire.
“You really do have the Jensen blood running through you,” she whistled. “That sounds like something Kurt would make someone do.”
I had learned it from Kurt, but I wasn’t going to give him credit for it. “It was pretty funny.”
“So what happened after that?”
“Brooks thought him eating it meant that I was going to come back to work for him. I just told him I would stop hating him, not come back to work for him.”
“Sucker,” Violet laughed. “Typical man. Hearing one thing and twisting it into something else.”
I sighed and closed my eyes again. “Yeah.”
“Why don’t you seem happy about him thinking you were coming back to work for him but you weren’t?”
It was pretty satisfying to tell him that I don’t hate him anymore, though it didn’t mean I was going to work for him, but it had worn off quickly. “Just hungover, Vi.”
She stayed quiet for too long, and I opened my eyes to see her staring down at me. “There is a hell of a lot more to it than that, Frankie. What happened after that?”
“Uh, the beers kicked in, and I’m pretty sure I was stumbly and giggly.” Totally not the bitch Brooks had been dealing with before. I probably gave the guy whiplash shifting into drunk, bubbly Frankie.
“How did you get home?”
“Uh, we Uber’d. At least, he Uber’d me home. Not sure what he did, but I have to assume he did that.”
“And now he’s gone?”
“Is the sun out?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Then yeah, he is gone. He had an early flight to get to the track by noon.”
“Now what is going to happen?”
I knew she was talking about the future, but all I could think about was right now. “I’m going back to sleep, and you are going to the park with Ash so I can die peacefully.”
She sighed and stood up. “If you really think Brooks is just going to fly off and you
’ll never hear from him again, you’re wrong.”
“There’s no reason for him to come back, Vi.”
“You’re wrong. I just hope it’s not too late when you realize it.” She walked out of the living room, and I sat up.
“Realize what?” I called after her.
I waited for her answer but she didn’t reply.
There wasn’t anything for me to realize.
I didn’t work at Cummings Racing anymore.
Brooks was back with the crew in Allenton.
There wasn’t anything more.
He was there, and I was here.
End of story.
*
Chapter Ten
Brooks
“She’s pulling to the left. I almost crashed into the wall.”
Roc grabbed my helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Noticed that.”
“Why’s it happening?” I ran my fingers through my hair and watched the crew tearing apart the engine.
“Not sure. Remy is looking at it. It has to be either uneven air pressure, or the alignment is fucked.”
“One of those sounds a whole hell of a lot easier to fix than the other.”
Roc nodded. “Yeah, but if one of us let your car out of there with uneven air pressure, we should all be fired then. That’s a rookie mistake.”
“I would think an out of whack alignment is a rookie mistake, too.”
“Either way, it isn’t anything for you to worry about. We’ll have it good as new on the next pass.”
I pulled my gloves off and tugged down the zipper on my suit. “I only have one pass left, Roc. I haven’t made it into the top sixteen yet.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Roc had been telling me that since my first pass. It was now Saturday, and I had one shot left. “Maybe I should start worrying. Something needs to change.”
“Go relax in the trailer for a bit. I’m going to personally go over the car to make sure it’s as good as it can be.”
I grabbed my helmet from him and shook my head. “I need it to be the best car out there, Roc, not as good as it can be.” I walked away from the car and Roc toward the front of the hauler.
Friday sucked.
Today sucked.
Everything sucked, and it seemed like no one knew how to make things better. The car felt off, and with each pass I did, it sucked even more.
My phone vibrated on the counter when I walked into the trailer, and I knew instantly who was calling. I didn’t want to talk to him. Hell, I didn’t want to fucking talking to anyone.
I tossed my gloves and helmet on the couch and grabbed the phone off the counter. I swiped left and put the phone to my ear. I didn’t even get a chance to say hello before he was barking into my ear.
“What in the fuck are you doing out there? You barely made it off the line before you veered into the fucking wall. Is that the way I taught you to drive?”
I collapsed onto the couch and kicked my feet up on the table. “Hello to you, too, Father.”
“Fuck hellos. My God damn name is on the line right now. You don’t qualify for tomorrow you’ll be the laughing stock of the AC Cola series.”
As if I didn’t know that. “Yeah.”
“I’ll be the laughing stock of the AC Cola series. Did you forget how to fucking drive when you were in bumfuck Egypt these past three days? Swear to Christ, Brooks. It’s like you don’t even know how to drive anymore.”
There wasn’t any point in trying to defend myself. Dad was on a tirade, and I knew from dealing with the man for the past thirty-one years, I couldn’t say anything to make this better. All I needed to do was win the next time I rolled onto the track. Right now, I was two full seconds behind the sixteenth spot. When I sucked, I really sucked. “I got one more pass left, Dad.”
“Thank fucking Christ. I’d like to know what that damn crew of yours is doing to help make you win. That car is not running like it should be.”
Even my dad who was five states away and watching on TV could tell that the car had major problems. “We’re having minor problems right now, but I know it isn’t anything they can’t handle.”
The line was silent, and I could picture my dad clearly with flushed cheeks and a scowl on his face. “Minor problems should not be happening in qualifying.” The call disconnected, and I tossed the phone on the couch next to me.
“Hell of a pep talk, Dad,” I muttered.
Things needed to change. I needed my crew to figure out what was going on with the car, and then fix it. There weren’t any other options.
*
Frankie
“Holy fuck.”
“Where’s his name?”
“Uh, did that just happen?”
Luke, Ash, Violet, Mitch, and Scarlett were all piled on the two couches in Luke’s living room watching the Saturday qualifying for Allenton.
I was speechless. I read over the names of the top sixteen qualifiers again, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. His name wasn’t there.
Holy fuck.
Brooks had not qualified. He had missed the sixteenth spot by one point three seconds. His reaction time was great off of the line, but everything seemed to go downhill once his tires crossed the start line.
We had all gathered around the TV watching the qualifiers, hoping that Brooks made it to the big show.
He didn’t.
He wasn’t even close.
In drag racing, if you were more than a second behind the last spot then you were completely fucked.
“He sucked.”
“Ash,” Violet scolded. “That’s not nice.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, like I was the only one thinking it.”
I was thinking the same thing, but I knew I was the reason he sucked.
“His car pulled to the left like fucking crazy.” Luke kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “It just kept getting worse with each race.”
“Yeah, you think they could have at least figured out something to fix it.” Mitch scoffed. “Brooks better get his shit straight or he’s gonna become a has-been before he ever becomes a big name.”
Scarlett elbowed me. “What do you think, Frankie?”
I was thinking a lot of things right now, but none of them I wanted to share out loud. “Yeah, he really pulled to the left.”
“That’s all you have to say? A blind man could have said that. I wanna know if you know what is wrong with his car. You did work on it for a few months before you decided to decapitate Brooks.”
I rolled my eyes and peeled the label on my bottle of soda. “There could be a couple of things going on with the car. I can’t really say what it is without looking at it.”
“So, when does your flight leave?” Mitch laughed.
“Pretty sure Brooks will send a private jet for her just to get her there quick as fuck.” Luke stood up and looked down at me. “If that isn’t proof enough that he needs you, then I don’t know what the hell is. You did something to that car, and the only way it’s going to get back to winning is if you get your ass there.”
Nothing like Luke putting the weight of Brooks’ racing career on me. “I didn’t do anything special to it.” At least, I didn’t think I had. I applied what I had learned in school and from working on different pit crews. Wasn’t that what I was supposed to do?
I grabbed my phone off of the arm of the couch and shot off a text to Remy. You guys have something for the left?
“Can I turn it?” Ash held up the remote and pointed it at the TV.
“I’d much rather not watch anymore. I don’t think McDougal has gone yet.” Violet wrinkled her nose. “I can’t stand looking at him. He just oozes cocky douche nozzle.”
“Just what exactly does that look like?” Mitch asked. “You know, just so I know what to look for in the future.”
Violet launched a pillow at him. “You know exactly what I mean,” she whined. “He’s an ass.”
“That oozes,” Kurt chuckled.
My phone chimed, and I was surprised Remy had texted me back so quickly. You saw that? Can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with the car.
What all did you guys try? There wasn’t any sense in telling them the things I thought could be done until I heard what they tried.
Pressure. Quick check of the alignment. And we also sacrificed a goat to the car gods. Nothing worked.
Such a smartass. Was it a female or male goat?
Twins. One of each, plus we threw in a duck for good measure. Nada.
“That Brooks?” Mitch asked.
I shook my head. “No. It’s Remy. Just asking him what he thinks is wrong with the car.”
“Just put the guy out of his misery, and tell him what he needs to do.” Luke walked around the couch and ruffled my hair with his hand as he walked past me. “They know they need you, Frank. Stop being difficult.”
I wasn’t being difficult. I was standing up for myself.
At least, that was what it had started out as. But ever since Brooks had downed a palm full of red pepper flakes, and he apologized for not knowing my name and being a dick, I wasn’t quite sure why exactly I was standing up for myself.
What springs are you running? I had a theory, and if he said what I think he was going to, then I knew exactly what was up with the car.
MaxLite. The same ones we’ve been running.
I shook my head. Nope, he was wrong. At least partly. I had been running some trial tests with the springs but hadn’t told anyone before I quit. Croft in the rear, and MaxLite in the front. Try that.
What? We don’t even have any Croft.
Not with them they didn’t, but back at the shop they did. They’re under my workbench. There should be one set left. I assumed they had replaced the springs before the car left Leeds Square and didn’t realize they weren’t putting on the same ones they had just taken off.
Are you serious right now? You couldn’t have sent off a text to let me know that?
I hadn’t really thought about it, and like I said, I was just testing out a theory I had. A theory, that Brooks had just proven right. How is Brooks doing?
You actually care?
Holeshot Page 7
