One of my own.
It’s funny how going to basically interview for a spot on a pro racing team, a place I thought was my end game, only proved to show me where I really belonged.
Exactly where I already was.
Not that it was out of the realm I would end up in the pro racing circuit someday. Hell, I’d never rule it out. Gamble said something about having a foot in both worlds someday.
I might like that. It would make me a better driver, more well-rounded.
But for now, I planned to keep both feet in the indie domain.
So…
An entire season of races would be set up. Preliminaries to determine the best of the best in my class. Then those driver’s would move on.
Races would be held.
Winners would be crowned.
And at the end of the season, a final race, to be held right there at Gamble Speedway, a championship race to determine the underground king.
Fans hadn’t had a “new” sport to sink their teeth into in a long time. And everyone loved to root for the underdog.
Well, this entire institution was being built on them.
Pick your underdog. Watch them fight for a title.
And the only rule?
There are no rules.
Side note: of course there would have to be some rules. Some kind of standards at which everyone would be held. But these standards wouldn’t be as rigid and stifling as the pros. There would be leeway. There would be honor.
There would be no guarantees.
That was the best part.
Gamble wanted to make me the face of the new revolution of racing. The guy who would give a name to it all. He wanted to sponsor me in the races, make sure my car had the best parts and I had the opportunities to step through the doors he was opening.
I’d take all he was offering.
But in the end, the only way I’d make it through to the championship, to truly own the world of underground racing, was to drive there.
Money would only get me so far. Talent and skill was what would take me across the finish line.
“Your life is about to get hella busy,” Trent said. I wasn’t sure, but there might have been a little hesitation in his voice.
“You up for it?” I asked, realizing I’d been so damn pumped I never really asked him what he thought about it all.
He seemed to be all about it during the meeting. He’d thrown in ideas and suggestions as we all talked. But now we weren’t sitting in a meeting. Now we were in familiar territory, alone. He had time to think.
“Me?” His voice was dubious. “Why would I need to be up for it?”
“You know I can’t do this without you.”
He made a sound. “Dude, you know damn well I won’t be able to do all the work this car’s going to need for these upcoming races.”
I waved away his words. “I’m not talking about a mechanic, asshole. Hopper and Gamble seemed to think you’d make a good manager. What’d you say to them anyway?”
He was sipping on his soda and choked. His arm flung out, and I took the soda before it could spill as he hacked and coughed.
Oh, this would be good.
I waited until he was done and looked at him expectantly.
“Ahh.” He hedged and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He always did that when he was nervous. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at me, sheepish. “I might have called them dicks.”
I blinked.
My head went back with the force of my laugh. “You called the richest man in the state of Maryland a dick?”
“Rich people are assholes, too.” He defended.
“True dat.” I guffawed.
“I thought you were gonna be pissed,” he admitted ruefully. Then he frowned. “For a minute there, I thought I cost you a deal.”
“If you giving them a hard time about something you didn’t like was enough to make then not want to work with me, then I don’t want to be associated with them anyway.”
He seemed surprised. “How do you know they did something I didn’t like?”
I felt my lips turn up. “It was the second driver, right?”
His face darkened. “No fucking warning.”
Yeah. That’s what I thought. Trent was a little protective. He’d been like that since the first time he’d seen me drive. I didn’t even have to see it to know anymore. It was just something I felt. Something I inherently knew.
It used to piss me off. Make me feel like he thought I was some damn sissy that couldn’t take care of himself.
But I could.
It didn’t piss me off anymore. I kinda liked it now.
“Anyway,” I said, clearing my throat. “What do you think? Want to be my manager?”
“You’re serious?”
“No, moron. I’m fucking playing you.”
“I don’t know anything about that either.” His voice was regretful.
He wants to do it.
My stomach fluttered a little.
“You know me. You know how I drive and what kind of person I am. You can figure out everything else as we go.”
“It’s a world where there are no rules…” He was thoughtful.
“Unless, of course, it would be too much. I know my schedule is about to go insane, but yours is already pretty full. With the frat, finishing college…”