One For The Road

46: Shot

Even though it didn't look tiring from the outside, lap after lap took a toll on the body from the inside of the car, and as time continued on in the race, the number ten car was the one to beat.

I shook my head. I told Griffin that I knew he was going to win, but even if he didn't, as long as he didn't come in second place to Tyler fucking Bailey, I could live with that. But no one told Tyler that, and halfway through the final stage of the race, he was still the leader.

Disgusting. But on the bright side, Griffin was in third place, which was significantly higher than Elizabeth in fifteenth.

At a track like Talladega, it was difficult to put the fastest lap times down over and over again, especially since the momentum of lines changed like my mind on a bad day. Eventually it would swing in Griffin's favor. It had to.

On the radio, Griffin's spotter told him about how the ten was much more consistent than everyone else, but I kept my eyes on the screen that kept his car at center focus all the time. There had to be some power in positive thinking since it was just about the only thing that kept me going, and if I was lucky, maybe I could transfer the good vibes to him.

Losing sucked. There was nothing worse besides maybe dating a loser, but I wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't find that very funny, probably.

The end of the Talladega race was the perfect time to have a massive wreck, especially since every single team had to fight for every single inch of track space with championship hopes on the line. No one was immune to the chaos that track packed into 2.66 miles.

And with the end upon us, I leaned forward in my seat as the cars zipped past. Tyler was still in first, but there wasn't much space between him and the next car behind him and then Griffin after that.

The last couple of laps were going to be a goddamn mess, especially since four drivers were going to be eliminated from the playoffs when the checkered flag waved through the air. But that was what made everyone's heart race and sink into their stomachs. It was what made racing racing.

And it was exactly why I had to swallow my pride and try to make something work with Team Moretti. As the Sacrilege experiment proved, I wasn't cut out for smart people jobs.

Griffin probably would have been pissed that I was half-focused on myself when his season was on the line, but he at least had a guaranteed next season even if this one didn't work out the way we wanted it to. But with only five more trips around the track to go, time wasn't exactly on his side anymore.

Good vibes weren't going to cut it. I needed to get higher powers involved here.

Please let Tyler get into a wreck that injures him just badly enough that he's out for the rest of the season so I can laugh at him. And let Griffin win. Amen.

But as the five laps turned to four and three and two and one, nothing bad happened to Tyler, even though karma should have kicked in and stolen the win from him.

So that was it, then. Griffin's championship hopes were finished officially.

What a bunch of bullshit.

Everything always changed after the winner crossed the finish line, and even though the laps blurred together at one point or another, there was always that one thing that could have changed how it all ended.

What was it for Griffin? I wasn't entirely sure since all of his pit stops seemed good and he didn't lose his patience and he gave it his all. But he knew, and there was no way in hell I was going to get away without him telling me all about it.