Fast Lane

by Jennis Slaughter

  FAST LANE

  A Novel by Jennis Slaughter & A.D. Campbell

  Kindle Edition

  Published by:

  Shadoe Publishing for

  Jennis Slaughter & A.D. Campbell on Kindle

  Copyright © Jennis Slaughter & A.D. Campbell March 2016

  FAST LANE

  Kindle Edition License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of Jennis Slaughter or Shadoe Publishing, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  Jennis Slaughter is available for comments at jennisslaughter@aol.com as well as on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/JennisSlaughterBooksFans, or on Twitter @ jennisslaughter@aol.com or on her blog @ http://sinjenkai.wordpress.com/com

  A.D. Campbell is available for comments at adcampbellauthor@yahoo.com as well as on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009506763671

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  Fast Lane

  A shrill ringing filled the run-of-the-mill hotel room with a horrid noise. A tan hand reached out from the under the covers as if to shut off an alarm clock that wasn’t there. It only succeeded in knocking over a bottle of Vitamin Water. Groaning, the individual sat up slowly, rubbing her face before yawning and picking up the phone to answer.

  “Hello?” the roused sleeper asked.

  “Good morning, Addison. It’s nearly seven am, time to rise and shine. Let’s get in a good work out before your time trials at eleven today,” came a rather chipper voice.

  “Dad...” Addison tried to reason with her father.

  “No buts, ifs, or anything like that, Addison. It’s time to get up, so ‘up and at ‘em!’” Her father hung up a second later, leaving the young twenty-two-year old NASCAR driver to stare down at the handset before replacing it in the cradle.

  “Come on Deuce...” Addison yawned for the third time since waking up as she called out to her Rottweiler who was sleeping on the opposite side of the bed. Addison McCloud shuffled over to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face before looking at her reflection. Stormy gray eyes, disheveled bronze hair with subtle waves that fell just past her shoulders, and a sleepy smile greeted her.

  She had just enough time to get dressed, clip Deuce’s leash on and grab the dog’s pack before her father was knocking at her door. James McCloud smiled down as his daughter, even though it was a rather strict smile. “Time to go running Addison, it’s good for you.”

  “I know I know...what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” came the mumbling reply as the shut the hotel room door behind her.

  Addison stopped at the top of the stairs and stretched, looking out at Daytona Beach. Her father was checking the stopwatch he had slung around his neck. Deuce barked one time loudly, and then looked at his owner, his short, stubby tail wagging. Her father had met Addison halfway on the bodyguard argument and agreed to the one hundred and thirty pound Rottweiler who slept on the other side of Addison’s hotel room beds. The dog went everywhere with the woman, even to the track. Not many people inside a NASCAR track made the mistake of approaching Addison more than once, learning quickly Deuce didn’t like boys and hated strangers even more.

  Kneeling down, Addison pulled out the vest-like contraption that Deuce wore when running on the beach with her. It was an American Red Cross, specially-made, dog garment that held a collapsible dog bowl, a bottle of water, and a first aid kit. Addison’s iPhone was strapped to her bicep, and music played into a set of headphones as she stretched. The beginning notes of Beethoven’s Symphonies filled her ears as she walked down the stairs and pulled off her worn Nikes, putting her toes in the sand. She thought about home; Hot Springs Arkansas. The Nextel Sprint Cup was in the middle of the season, two days before July 4th, and Addison wanted to be home in the country fishing.

  Some twenty minutes later, her muscles fully stretched out, Addison unclipped Deuces leash and handed it to her father before waving and running down the beach, away from him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Addison stared at herself in the small mirror in the bathroom of her motor home. Huffing, she fiddled with the collar on her flame retardant jumpsuit, covered in sponsor logos and products. Her bronze hair was tied up in a tight ponytail. Her gray eyes were irritated as she felt the same itching sensation at her neck.

  “Ugh damn it.” Addison sighed at her reflection before she sat down on the couch inside her Conway Freight sponsored RV. Thankfully, Addison didn’t ride with the driver she blocked for. Dana Tatum was an insufferable egotistical man who loved going out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable with her driving skills.

  Deuce stared at his human mother before resuming his chew session on a rope toy she’d bought after their run this morning. Her dad had all but rushed her out of PetCo on their way to the track so she could qualify for time trials. For some reason, this morning he seemed extra tense, like time trials weren’t all that was on his mind.

  Addison shrugged off the thought and picked up her helmet from the cabinet top when she secured her shoes. “Alright boy, wish me luck?” She leaned down to scratch his ears before leaving the trailer.

  The driver left the steps of her RV and walked into the forest of RV’s, golf carts and press -- it was a media frenzy. Addison’s father pushed through the throng and took her by the arm.

  “You’re late Addison.” He sounded annoyed.

  “I’m sorry,” Addison muttered. “My jumpsuit was bothering me.”

  “Never mind.” He motioned to a golf cart nearby with a young man behind the wheel.

  “Sorry Dad,” she tried to apologize, but her father just ignored her.

  “Apologies are like assholes, Addison, everyone has one,” he bit out as they took off across the black top. Addison sighed and fiddled with the straps on her helmet as she tried to calm down enough to think of the time trials.

  When they arrived in the pit area, Addison’s number sixteen Roush Mustang NASCAR was having its final checks done, fresh tires, fresh gas etc. Addison went from a nervous girl to a confident woman the moment her shoes touched the track’s concrete.

  “Alright Addison.” Her dad handed her a slip of paper that had all of the previous qualifying times, including Dana’s.

  “Dad.” Addison crumpled the paper and handed it back to him with a grin. “I’ve been doing time trials since I was thirteen on a dirt bike. I know what I’m doing.” He looked annoyed that she’d cut him off, but shrugged all the same and went to join her boss and pit boss in the tent to listen over the headphones.

  The bronze haired beauty sighed as she walked over to her pit crew. “Hey guys, she running alright today?”

  One of the mechanics looked up with a grin. “Hey Ms. McCloud, she’s running fantastic today! Your qualifying time should easily beat Dana’s; his fuel filter was clogged. Old fuel.” He chuckled.

  Addison shook her head; her pit crew absolutely loathed the other driver, Dana Tatum, because he was such a pompous asshole. His pit crew treated everyone else like they were dirt just because
Dana had won the last three Sprint Nextel Cups, along with a few other esteemed races. Of course, Dana wouldn’t have won those races without Addison blocking for him, but no one said anything about that.

  “Where is Dana? I thought he would be down here to rattle my cage,” Addison inquired, looking around and trying to find the other Conway Freight driver.

  “Oh, he’s not down on the track today. After qualifying last night; he’s been puffing himself up for something that’s happening today. I heard some big wigs are up in the clubhouse. Apparently the Dupree representative for their Formula 1 team is here,” her mechanic threw out.

  “Good, maybe I can get some peace and quiet for once. Think Conway will get a new driver? Someone who’s not an asshole to block for?” Addison questioned as she put her helmet on the roof of the car.

  “Or maybe you’ll get bumped up.” Arnie, her pit boss came up behind her to give the final checks on the car before Addison would start her qualifying laps.

  “No way, I hate the spotlight, and besides, I’m a nobody. I just want to drive. Save the media circus for the idiots who love the limelight,” Addison replied.

  “Like your father,” Arnie shot back. He was smiling, so Addison just rolled her eyes behind her polarized lenses on her sunglasses.

  “Alright kid, you ready to drive?” Arnie asked, as he hooked up the laptop to the engine portal and ran through the diagnostics.

  “Born ready,” Addison smirked, as she unhooked the net and climbed in through the driver’s side window.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  A tall redheaded female sauntered up to the window and sat on the back of a sofa in the owner’s box of Dupree Racing that overlooked the racetrack. The infield of the track was filled to capacity with RV’s, pick-up trucks, and semi’s. People were on the roofs cooking BBQ; lounging and drinking heaven knows what, while waiting for the time trials to start. Becca hated to think of how the race day was going to be.

  Leaning down, she draped herself over the shoulders of the lounging, long legged blonde. “What exactly are we doing here, when we could be at the beach?”

  Samantha “Sam” Dupree had her legs crossed at the ankles and propped up on the windowsill. She was watching the drivers arrive at their designated areas in pit row. She had heard about a young driver who had a lot of potential, and she wanted to be the first to check her out. The only bad part of the situation was that the driver was blocking for a true jerk named Dana Tatum, who thought that he was entitled to be the next great name in racing.

  Catching a glimpse of the golf cart carrying the driver, Sam leaned forward and smiled, watching the young woman fidget with her collar and frown at her father. Addison McCloud was bothered by something and that could affect her driving. As the current number two driver in Formula 1 racing, and the first woman to hold that rank, Sam knew something about professional driving. She also understood how some drivers had their own routines and tiny good luck charms that they followed before each race.

  Reaching for a nearby phone, the blonde asked for the Tatum pit. Waiting for an answer, she leaned back to take the tumbler of Jack from Becca.

  “This is Arnie Garcia...how can I help you?” Arnie thought it was Dana calling to complain about Addison.

  “This is Sam Dupree...let me talk with the driver,” she stated, not bothering with politeness. She did, after all, have a reputation to uphold.

  Arnie’s eyes went wide and he looked at Addison who was peering under the hood of her car. “Addison!” he hissed, covering the phone. “Sam Dupree is on the line for you.” Addison went pale, and took the phone, trying to act like an adult.

  “Yes ma’am, this is Addison McCloud, ma’am, how can I help you?”

  “Get out of that damn suit and into something that you’re more comfortable in. If anyone gives you any lip, just tell them I didn’t like the color.” Sipping the liquor, the blonde smiled as she looked through a pair of binoculars at the young woman’s expression.

  Addison’s eyes widened in alarm, afraid she had upset Dana’s new boss. “Right away Ms. Dupree.” She looked around. Finally covering the phone, she grabbed Arnie by his collar. “Run back to my trailer, toss Deuce a dog treat, and grab my other jumpsuit, pretty please?” she begged.

  Arnie smiled, knowing Addison would much rather race in her older suit than her new one. “Okay, give me a few minutes.” He turned and found a golf cart, driving back to her trailer.

  “Hey kid...what was bothering you with the suit?” Sam said into the phone.

  If the NASCAR driver was a little bit nervous, it wasn’t obvious when she spoke, “Oh, it’s new and a bit stiff in the collar. It was just itching ma’am.”

  “Don’t ever wear something that you haven’t already broken in off-track. You don’t need the distraction. Now go out there and show me what you’ve got. Kick Tatum’s ass.” A throaty chuckle was broken off as the phone disconnected.

  Addison McCloud looked at the phone in shock before she handed it back to Arnie who had returned with her old jumpsuit. She quickly excused herself into a tent to change before walking out onto the track. Her old suit was a bit snug in some places, but it was comfortable, like a favorite old t-shirt. She walked to her car and climbed in before putting on her helmet, and keying up the mike.

  Arnie removed the laptop after the final checks were done and leaned down to look into the car as Addison primed the ignition and the car roared to life, sounding like an airplane than a car.

  “Alright Addison, give ‘em hell!” he shouted so she could hear.

  Pulling on her gloves, Addison gave him a double thumbs up and put her hands on the wheel. She deftly maneuvered the car out of pit row and was met by the pace car that she followed for a full lap, warming up the tires. As she circled the track and came back up on the starting line, Addison dropped the hammer.

  The car tore down the track like a bat out of hell while Addison smiled like a kid at a candy store. As the first turn neared, she dropped down to ride the line on the inside of the turn. She flew out of the turn like her tail pipe was on fire. The next three turns were given similar treatment, as she finished her qualifying lap.

  Addison sighed happily as she saw her post time and heard her dad’s voice in her ear, “Good job Addison, your time was actually quicker than Dana’s by a full two seconds. He’ll be furious.” Her dad encouraged all her inner track rivalries, especially the ones with the other blockers and her other driver.

  “Good,” was all the young woman said.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to share this with him when he’s upstairs with Dupree Motorsports,” Arnie called over the headset inside her helmet.

  “Just make sure I’m back in my trailer when you tell him.” Addison laughed over the radio as she pulled into pit row and her crew helped her out of the car.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Sitting down after she watched McCloud’s trial, Sam bit her bottom lip and nodded her head. She could work with that driver; she just knew it. The talent was most definitely there, as was the commitment, she thought, as she mentally went over Addison’s racing resume in her head. The biggest hurdle was going to be getting the young woman away from her father and the racing team she was with now.

  “Where is Dana Tatum?” Sam asked a nearby attendant.

  “Probably down at the bar with the media, he’s been bragging all day,” one of the attendants answered.

  “Sam, can we go to the beach? I need a tan before the parties tonight!” Becca complained into her girlfriend’s ear.

  “You wanna go tan, go tan. I’ve got work to do.” Sam waved off the redhead as she headed towards the bar. She wanted to hear what Tatum was spouting.

  Becca threw herself on the couch in a mini temper tantrum. “God damn it,” she huffed.

  After Sam left the clubhouse, she wandered down to the track bar where she found Dana Tatum and his pit crew. He was having a beer and talking to a reporter, who was hanging onto his every word. “Yeah, I’ve heard some talk that Formula 1 n
eeds a new boy. I think Dupree racing should let me step in. Their glory girl needs to learn a few things; a lot like my blocker.”

  Sam caught the reporter’s eye and shook her head, warning him not to let on that she was behind the driver. Let the man hang himself, it would save her the trouble of dumping him later.

  Tatum kept talking as he took a swig from his Bud Light. “It just goes to show you; women don’t belong on the track. It’s a man’s world. I had to explain that plenty of times to my blocker, Addison McCloud. She’s still a kid so she’s got time to go out there and find a husband, make some babies, and live a good life.”

  Green eyes grew darker as she listened to the man spout off, so she pushed away from the doorway to stand directly behind the driver and leaned forward to speak in his ear, “And what makes you think that McCloud or any other woman needs a man to be complete?”

  Tatum whipped around. “Mrs. Dupree...I’m sorry, but a reporter asked me for an opinion so I gave it to them. How can I help you?” His eyes ran up and down her body quickly before he covered it with a grin.

  “It’s Ms. Dupree and I hear that you think that I could learn a few things from you. Please, enlighten me.” The leggy blonde leaned against the bar and signaled the bartender for a Jack. “I just can’t wait to hear your words of wisdom,” she drawled.

  A pit crew member came up and handed Dana a slip of paper with Addison’s qualifying time. The driver turned red in the face before he slammed it down. “Damn it. Well, Ms. Dupree, I have to take my leave of you. I need to speak with the other driver. Have a nice afternoon.”

  Tossing back the liquor, Sam pushed away from the bar. “I think I’ll join you. There are some things I think that we can discuss.” She led the way towards the trailers with a seductive sway of her hips. Sam knew men wanted her and she used that knowledge to her benefit.