One For The Road

18: Green

When Saturday night finally arrived, I still hadn't gotten any sort of text or call from Drake. He must have really been pissed at me. I couldn't focus on that, though, because unless I wanted to look like a fucking fool crawling back to him empty-handed, I had to win the All-Star Race.

Just as expected, Elizabeth won a spot into the All-Star Race, and I received the fan vote, so we were set to be the first two women competing against each other in a Cup Series race. In terms of the regular season, this race didn't mean anything, but for me, it meant everything. I was the dominant female force in the sport, and it was about time I reminded everyone of that.

Before they would even let me look at the car I'd be driving, I had to take another piss test. I didn't have a damn thing worth looking for in my system, but reputations, even unearned ones, didn't go away overnight.

Just before it was time for the national anthem, I took my spot next to Griffin. We always stood next to each other before each race, and it just felt right to be beside him.

"I missed this." I looked up at him. "Tell me that you got lonely during the national anthem without me."

Griffin laughed. "Would you shut up? It's unpatriotic to make this all about you."

"It is all about me, though. You can't tell me that people are going to pretend like this is just another race for me. Hell, it might be my last one."

"Look, Kate, if you drive your ass off, it ain't gonna be your last race." Griffin looked down at me. "Besides, I can't handle being the only sexy driver here now. It's too much pressure."

I smiled. "Trust me, I'm the second best-looking on a team of nerds right now. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable."

"You're only second?"

I nodded. "She has pink hair. She's practically a fucking unicorn."

If I won this race, Annie wouldn't have to work nearly as hard to keep the team above water. Neither would the third best-looking person, Drake.

"Sounds like somebody likes this unicorn," Griffin said.

I nodded as we were reminded to rise and remove our hats for the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner. "Yep. But she has a boyfriend, so I just have to wait for the right moment to let her in on a little secret: men suck."

"Hey."

"Most men suck. And that includes you."

Griffin smiled. "Fair enough."

After the national anthem was sung by some supposedly famous country artist I didn't know, I headed back over to my car, which wasn't my usual Goodyear ninety-five. That belonged to Elizabeth now. Instead, I had a sponsor-less white Ford Mustang with the number fifty-nine painted on the top and side in hot pink. A familiar face stood right beside the car, and despite the heat, he was dressed up in a button-down and some nice slacks.

"Miss Moore, how are you doing? How's rehab?" Mr. Roger Truscott asked.

"Just lovely. I kill things with a robot," I replied.

His eyes widened for a split second, but his false composure settled over his demeanor once again. "I'm sure glad that you've found a way to waste your time. Now, since I do own this car, I just wanted to make sure that I reminded you about—"

"Just stay out of my way, okay? I'm not here because of you, and I don't have to answer to you anymore. You know damn well what it means for me to be here. It means that you and the rest of these NASCAR elites may have it out for me, but the real people see right through your manipulative bullshit. And I'd be fucking scared if I were you." I brushed past him to the window of the car. "Because I'm about to kick the shit out of everyone who's ever fucked me over."