One For The Road

44: Interview

Although it was early October, the heat from the summer still lingered in Talladega County, Alabama, and with an entire season on the line for Griffin, it felt appropriate to set the scene. Heat brought aggression, and bad decisions behind the wheel and in the pit box added up for a hell of a show. It didn't quite live up to the pressure on the Talladega race in the spring, but proven winners had different challenges than the rest of us, I supposed.

All the cars were lined up on pit road in their starting order, and even though there was nothing flowing through the systems yet, there was a palpable energy that pointed to the front of the pack, the ten car and Tyler Bailey. Griffin's sixty-six was also up in the top five, but the car that I wanted to see was about where it would have been if I qualified with it, back in twentieth.

The area was crowded with drivers, families, pit crews, crew chiefs, engineers, spotters, fans, camera crews, and car owners, and I brushed through the people on my way to my old ninety-five car. There was just enough of a breeze to ruffle against my shorts, and although I planned on meeting with the legend Andre Moretti, the entire world had seen me without makeup or with melted mascara and a tangled mess of a ponytail. I wasn't going to fool anyone if I put on a dress or some shit.

Elizabeth must have been chatting with my old team since she wasn't by the car, but that was nothing but a good opportunity to give it a good look. She hadn't made the playoffs with her late entry to the season, and I couldn't help but think that I would have if that car was still mine.

If Daniel was right that the firing just boiled down to appeasing sponsors, still none of it made sense. I said nothing bad about anyone, just that I didn't think I was being treated fairly with the drug testing. And if a goddamn tire company was against that, then why the hell was I even bothering with anything?

Elizabeth was being picked on just as much, but it didn't bother her so much. Well, either that or she was willing to keep her mouth shut to sell out for a contract.

What other common trait between us was there? She was a sweet (but I knew better) blonde southern good girl, and I was here for a good time and making sure everyone knew about it.

A voice with a sickeningly sweet Mississippi accent came from behind me. "What the hell do you want?"

"Just wanted to see my car before they put Stevie fucking Wonder behind the wheel," I said.

Elizabeth tied her curled hair up in a low ponytail. It was always a bitch to make sure it fit in the helmet and didn't look like a goddamn founding father.

"It's not yours, Katie. I don't know how long you're going to hold this against me. It's fucking silly," she said.

But it wasn't silly. Everything I had worked for, she didn't give a shit and did whatever it took to make sure she didn't lose it like I did.

"Listen, I just want to be able to settle this on the race track. That's all I want," I said.

"Then maybe you should act like it's possible to work with you. You realize that's your biggest problem, right?" she said.

I wasn't impossible to manage. It just took a hell of a lot of respect, and I didn't hand it out for free.

"Look, I'd like to settle this on the track too, and the only way we're gonna have the chance to do that is if you put your pride aside for a moment to sign a contract," she continued.

I thought for a moment. I sure as shit didn't need a rookie telling me what to do, especially since she hadn't won anything besides a qualifying race to make it into the All-Star Race, which I won with a makeshift team, so did that make me better? Absolutely.