One For The Road

51: Runaway

With the headache beginning to go away, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out why Roger Truscott would ask his nephew to ask me to meet with him over a perhaps temporary vacancy in his team. He fired me for calling it like it was, and he had a sudden change of heart? No way in hell.

And even if he did, I didn't. I couldn't put myself through that again, especially since I already had a new contract with Team Moretti on the way. There were still details to be worked out, but I wasn't going to work and put my life on the line for basically free even if I was a risky candidate.

Until Griffin got back from wherever he went, I was on my own with Penny, but she was probably asleep upstairs in her room. Griffin seriously spoiled the hell out of that dog, but I would too. She was cute and sweet and better than most people.

Before I could go and check on her, my phone rang.

Moretti?

Interesting.

I answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Katie. It's Andre Moretti. I don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. You're not looking at any other teams at the moment, are you?" Moretti asked.

I hesitated. "Not really, but RTR is up my ass again for no good reason. Elizabeth Tonkin's out for the weekend, and Truscott wanted me to replace her."

"That actually works out perfectly. There are a few holdups in terms of money and term that we're currently working out, but if you show us something, we'll get this contract finalized as soon as possible."

"What?"

"Your agent's a tough nut to crack, but if you can prove that you're worth what he's asking, we can get it done. I really would like to add you to the team, Katie. You're very talented, and we can work on the few things you lack."

"One, I already did that at the All-Star Race, and two, that's not going to—"

Moretti cut me off. "I really need to go, but we can talk about the results after the race. I'm rooting for you."

Call ended.

"What the fuck?" I muttered to myself. "What do I lack? A top-five finish at a superspeedway?"

He was in for one hell of a surprise when I wasn't the one driving the ninety-five on Sunday.

I had already made my mind up. I told myself that I was willing to do whatever it took to make it all the way back around the track to the start-finish line for a restart back to the life I knew and loved: racing. But was that true?

Moretti was expecting one last start from me before we could finally ink a contract, but I told Henderson and Truscott to fuck off. And unless I went back to them to change my mind, that race wasn't going to happen.

I took in a breath. I fucked up.

There was no way I could ask either one of them to talk it through and put me in the car, not after all the bullshit they put me through. I tried to work with Danny Henderson, but his loyalty was to his uncle, and Truscott's loyalty was to himself.

I was the same way, but at least I wasn't a dick about it.

My breathing sped up and the walls squished my insides more than usual. What the hell did all of this mean? Moretti wanted to see one more show before he signed me, and I couldn't put myself through RTR again.

Was it over then? Was the All-Star Race my last one?

I had to get away. What the hell was I supposed to do? Griffin would be pissed when he found out that Moretti promised himself something I wasn't willing to give. Working with Truscott one last time wasn't a part of my idea of whatever it took, and if that cost me my career, then I didn't want it anyway.