My hand closed over a baseball-style T-shirt with dark-yellow sleeves and a white torso. I pulled it on and tucked just the front behind the buckle on my black belt. My black leather jacket was by the door, and I’d throw that on before we left.
Beneath my two shirts, I was wearing my lucky necklace. I wore it all the time. It was a long silver chain with a speedometer pendant. Ivy gave it to me years ago before I’d driven in a race. I’d won that day, thus making it lucky.
No, I wasn’t dressed up for the meeting. Going to see Gamble dressed in a suit would be a lie. He needed to see exactly who he was getting as a driver, because a sponsor put down a lot of money and they needed to know where and who it was going into.
Besides, I drove better when I dressed like myself.
Trent tossed the phone on the couch, and I looked over. “Something wrong?”
“Nah, just checking in with the frat, making sure no one did anything stupid last night.”
I made a sound. “Jack still kissing your ass?”
He laughed. “Not too bad. Apparently, Con’s not too happy about my decision, though.”
“Shocker.” I dropped down on the couch and picked up my coffee, which was almost gone.
“Your phone’s been going off.” Trent gestured to my cell lying on the table.
I grabbed it and lit up the screen. I had a bunch of texts.
I smiled. “Rome told everyone about the meeting.”
I thumbed through the messages. One from each of our family members.
Romeo: Own the road today.
Ivy: I love you! Be safe!
Rimmel: Should I tell you to break a leg? That’s not very nice. Drive fast!
Braeden: Don’t come home without a deal.
I laughed when I read B’s. My brother-in-law was a piece of work.
Trent leaned toward me, and I held the phone between us and scrolled through again so he could read them. He laughed, too.
My phone beeped again. I called up the newest text. It was a picture of my almost six-month-old niece, Nova, dressed in a T-shirt with a hot-pink racecar on the front.
Ivy: Nova loves you, too!
It meant a lot to have the support of everyone for this. I’d always had a big family. I grew up in one. But family seemed to take on a new meaning when I moved here to be closer to my sister. There was something special about family by choice.
It wasn’t blood that held us all together.
It was loyalty.
Love.
I typed out a quick text to my sister. Thanks for all the messages. Give Nova a kiss for me. I’ll call you later.
Trent jumped up from the couch, stretched his long arms out at his sides, and tucked his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “You ready for this?”
“I was born ready.”
Holy hot damn!
That was my thought when we pulled up to the Gamble Motor Speedway. The place was a bona fide track that made what I was doing here today even more surreal and exciting.
It wasn’t the biggest raceway I’d ever seen, but it wasn’t the smallest. Clearly, Gamble put money into this place, and he also paid to keep it up to date. Everything was pretty industrial looking. All concrete, steel, and grey. The area around the building was clear of trees and flat, and a large parking lot stretched out around us.
There was a man standing at the entrance that would allow us through and into the track area. When I slid up beside him and rolled the window down, he handed over two lanyards with a pass clipped to the front and had me sign in. Once that was done, we were given a thumbs-up, and he waved us through.
I drove slowly, taking in the moment. When we cleared the tunnel and rolled out onto the inside of the track, I wanted to cry.
It was a damn beautiful sight.
The track itself was oval shaped, and I estimated it to be about a mile and a half. There was a lot of seating capacity around it—more than enough for NASCAR races if one were ever hosted here. From what I read, only a few NASCAR races had taken place here, and that was years ago. Mostly, this track was used for local and statewide events. It also served as a headquarters for Gamble’s racing “team.”
I use the term team loosely because the drivers Gamble sponsored weren’t necessarily on a team, per se. They all drove in their own races. They all had different sponsors besides Gamble himself. What made them his “team” was he was the highest contributing sponsor they had and most of the car itself was paid for by him. They were all based here. They practiced here.
I’m sure all the drivers knew each other. Hell, they probably practiced together, which sounded like a fucking privilege to me. Sure, I guessed in many ways these guys were competitors, but I didn’t like to look at it that way.
I liked to think of them as people to learn from, people to push me and motivate me to be better.
On the northwestern side, it appeared there were several condominiums built over the track, and I figured that’s where the drivers and probably some of the staff and managers lived when they weren’t on the road.