Page 80 of Black Flag

“Prepare yourself.There’s going to be lots and lots of dirty sex for you tonight.”

“I could go for somedirty sex.” I shifted back to gaze at her face as her eyes opened and met mine.Warm emeralds with chocolate flakes.Moments like thisnever failed to stun me; she loved me with such love and devotion with eyesthat matched my own.

Her lips met minesoftly. “Good luck.”

“Thank you honey,” Imuttered clutching her torso to mine. The moment seemed intimate, maybe eventhe right moment.

Should I propose now?No, not in front of theentire world, she wouldn’t want that. Or would she?

I was moments away frompulling out the ring and dropping down to one knee when Logan and Lucasapproached with Charlie.

“Dude, just do italready.” Logan whined shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You’rebeing apu—” Charlie slapped the back of his headbefore he could say pussy.

“What’s he talkingabout?” Sway asked eyeing me with suspicion.

I shrugged finding thewindow net interesting. “Whoknows,”

Charlie helped me outthrowing Logan over his shoulder. “Keep your mouth shut.” He told him as theywalked toward the grandstands.

Sway laughed. “Goodluck,” and then she was gone and I was back to my thoughts. A place I didn’tcare to be in that moment as none of them made any sense to me.

You could ask any racecar driver why they decided to race and they’ll usually all tell you the samething. It was for the adrenaline rush and the thrill that came with winning.Sure there was that but for me it was different. I did it because that’s whatfelt natural to me and where I was comfortable. The race track, under the noiseof the engine, that’s where I felt at peace. When I was in that car, I was incontrol, for the most part and it was my quiet place.Mytime.

Unfortunately, Aidenand Kyle rambling in my ear the entire race disrupted the quiet for me. I’dstarted on the pole and kept the lead as the laps fell into a rhythm.

Andy Crocket andmebattled for fifth for a good ten laps when he pushed upand the Lady in Black bit him bringing out the caution.

“Too fast entering,come back in bud.” Kyle announced when I left pit road after.

“Ohmy god!”I slammed my fist down on the wheel. “You have to be fucking kidding me? I lostground to the twenty. How the fuck does that happen?”

“I don’t know,” he wasjust as annoyed. “Just come back in.”

Fucking bullshit!

I knew damn well Iwasn’t speeding.

Kyle sighed. “Flippinga NASCAR official off is not helping us out here, Jameson.”

“Helping us out wouldhave been never getting the fucking penalty in the first place.” I snappedwaiting out our bullshit penalty on pit road, consequently putting us a lapdown.

Times like this, Icould see my dream for the championship slipping away. I know you’re thinking,“Christ kid,it’sone race.”

See, that’s whereyou’re wrong. One race can make or break these championships. There’s no roomfor error on my part or anyone else’s. Wedge adjustment, air pressure, camber,springs, fuel millage, control, crew chiefs, car chiefs, crew members,officials, drivers, and all played parts that decided an outcome of one team onrace day.Defined one team.Sometimes, it can be onething that breaks that glimmer of hope in a hungry team’s eye. So yeah, itcould be just one race.

“Just be optimistic.”Kyle urged when I pulled back on the track inforty-thirdposition.“It’s still early. We can do this.”

My response was just agrunt. I was glad he wassopositive as I lacked thattrait right then.

Nothing in racing goesthe way you want. A drive train breaks, an engine lets go. That temperature youkept an eye on all race overheats, the tires you felt vibrating wear down tocords. The gasket your team was sure was sealed, breaks. A lug nut that wasthought to be tight shakes loose. The loose handling gets the best of yourability and you slap the wall.Wrong place, wrong position, alap, a flag, all within five hundred miles.You turn thousands of timesand break just as much. Check gauges, get fuel, argue, apologize, it’s allabout going in circles. It’s about commitment, and want, and desire, andsacrifice.Most of all, how bad you want it.

“Come on, bud. You needto focus!” Kyle yelled back at me when I continued to rant about NASCAR’s latestcall. “It’s not personal.”

Not personal?

Itwaspersonaland I knew Gordon, the Director of Competition, and Darrin’s uncle, hadsomething to do with this. So far this year, I’d been penalized for speeding onpit road eight times. With everything that could happen in a race, we didn’tneed outside forces aiding in that.

Let me tell yousomething here, pit road speed for Darlington was 30 mph. This meant if myRPM’swereon 5600...Iwas going roughly 30 mph, give or take. We didn’t have speedometers so mytheory wasn’t exact science but everything was based off your RPM’s. NASCARallowed a 5 mph leeway, which meant I would be within that.

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