Page 106 of Lemon Crush

“Everyone’s saying it now,” I joked, but I was game. The truth was, I only had one. But I was willing to make up a few to stop thinking about that photo and how it made me feel. “My main condition is that both Bernie and I will be driving in Jiminy for the race. And it won’t be for one or two pity laps either. We will beequal members of the team and involved in everything. Oh, and Chick will be an honorary, non-driving member.”

“No way,” Rick said immediately, and even from here, I could feel Bernie stiffen in her seat. She’d totally called that one. “August, I get, but we only have one car this time and the judges can make our lives miserable if we break the rules or let a reckless driver on the track. Think about the penalties Dave made us endure. Or any of the others we’ve seen over the years.”

“Penalties?” Chick asked with a worried glance in Bernie’s bristling direction.

Lucy immediately started counting them off. “They can stick you to the hood of your car with Saran Wrap and send you around the paddock, apologizing to every other team for being an asshole driver. Have you mime your crime, like Marcel Marceau. Put you in a Bob Ross wig and make you paint ‘happy trees’ on the hood of your own car.”

I’d read about a few of those. They sounded hysterical, though I supposed it wouldn’t be as funny if you were the one being punished.

“They once had a team walk behind their Judge-mobile and apologize every time they honked the horn,” Gene joined in, his expression mischievous. “Made another write ‘I will not pass under yellow’ a hundred times. And if you whine too much about it, you might have to chew on a pacifier for the length of your penalty.”

“Are you hearing this?” Chick whispered into my ear. “Whoever came up with this car race is my hero.”

“Are you calling me reckless?” Bernie finally asked Rick icily.

He looked her right in the eye. “You’re the one that got a ticket for reckless driving, remember?”

“I was sixteen, and you didn’t even know me then!”

“Enough.” Wade’s voice was calm, but he dropped his fist on the table to stop the crosstalk and forcefully get Rick’s attention. “She’s one of the best drivers I know, and she’s in or you can get yourself a new mechanic right now.”

I subtly shivered from that show of sexy solidarity. I’d like to wrap up this meeting and have my way with this man as soon as possible, please and thank you.

“You didn’t want August driving,” Rick said petulantly.

“Because he loves Jiminy and I don’t have any experience yet,” I argued in Wade’s defense. “Bernie does.”

Rick narrowed his eyes at Gene and the others before shaking his head and swearing under his breath. “Your call.”

Chick slung an arm over Bernie’s shoulder and smiled devilishly. “You’re being invaded, fellas. Might as well accept defeat now and enjoy it in your beautiful new, yet obviously used and oddly affordable car.”

There was a long, pregnant pause while Gene studied Bernie thoughtfully.

“Shecouldhelp with the judges,” he finally said. “Do something bendy with her yoga-fu.”

Rick reacted as if he’d been kicked in the face, and it put my writer vibes on high alert. I didn’t have to be good at people-watching (though I was) to see the antagonistic body language going on between Rick and Bernie. He was never cheerful, but he was rarely this bad, and she usually didn’t give a flying fig what anyone said or thought about her. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were fighting off a mutual attraction. Or they’d already made out at a Christmas party and something had gone horribly wrong.

“You realize you’re discussing using my sister as a sex object for extra points right in front of me.” Wade was clearly not amused with my brother-in-law.

“I’m open to being objectified,” Bernie declared, her smile a thing of fierce beauty. “As long as you’re allopen to finally winning a race after years of coming in thirtieth and only getting a participation trophy. Because that’s what I’m planning to do.”

“I want to be her,” Chick murmured.

So did I.

“Thirtieth is a great slot to come in,” Gene clapped back. “Weearnedthat. Do you know how many drivers are out there?”

“Like I told August, we don’t do this for a trophy or the cash prize,” Lucy said serenely.

Wade nodded. “That’s because the cash prize is only somewhere between four and six hundred dollars, which is nothing compared to all the money you spend for entrance fees, car purchases, improvements, safety equipment and travel. And the head honchos pay it out with boxes of nickels or checks written on toilet seat covers.”

“I love every single word he’s saying. I should be recording this.” Chick was already rubbing his hands together.

“Iamrecording this,” Kingston reminded him in an undertone that had me subtly leaning back to get out of the shot. Unfortunately, Wade chose that moment to push back his chair and quietly excuse himself, phone in hand, leaving me totally exposed to the unforgiving lens.

“Lucy’s right. It’s the experience that’s priceless,” Gene insisted. “It’s months of preparation and brainstorming, followed by a few days of testing your endurance while spitting in the face of death because Fuck Cancer.”

“Fuck Cancer,” Rick and Lucy repeated together.

---