Page 3 of Rivals

I give her the best ‘are you kidding me?’ look I can muster. “Like hell, thanks for asking.”

“I figured you did, but I didn’t want to assume things with my optimistic self.”

I sigh and scrub my hands over my face and attempt to comb through the matted bed head I’m currently rocking. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do but that’s beside the point.” Evanna comes over and hands me a brush before taking a seat on the bed. “You want to tell me why you decided last night was a good night to let it all go and get beyond drunk? I mean aside from the fact that it’s a really dumb decision, not to mention dangerous.”

“I know, I know. I just didn’t want to be at Jakob’s, and I think that I thought the alcohol was making it easier.” I give her the best puppy dog eyes I can muster.

Evanna shakes her head. “Why didn’t you just tell me that you didn’t want to go?”

I sigh. “Admitting defeat is not my strong suit. Besides, I could tell you wanted to go, and I think there’s something going on with you and Ty and I didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t get to have fun.”

“Ugh! What am I going to do with you?” she asks.

“Love me?” I ask with a shrug.

She laughs. “I guess so, but you aren’t going to love yourself too much today because you have to get ready for work. I’ve got breakfast making and you need a shower.”

I watch as she leaves before I fall back onto my bed, only to instantly regret it the moment my head hits the pillow, my head pounds harder. Today is going to be long and rough but at least I’m off tomorrow. I rush through my shower and French braid my wet hair before throwing on a pair of jeans, work boots and simple navy-blue tank. I swipe a coat of mascara and eyeliner on and I’m good to go. The smell of bacon and eggs hits me instantly. My stomach rumbles then morphs into a roll of nausea. “I’m not sure if I’m hungry or going to be sick.”

Evanna looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Probably both.” I open the fridge and pull out a can of Dr. Pepper and crack it open before heading to our junk in the funk cabinet as we call it. It’s piled with all the things you should probably feel guilty about eating but are also sometimes necessary. I search for my little bites of heaven. Once I get my hand on the can I yank it forward and pop the top off before placing one into my mouth. Evanna makes a gagging noise. “That’s disgusting. I don’t know how you eat those things.”

My eyes go wide. This is a discussion that we have often. “Because Pizza Pringles are little bites of heaven that you cannot judge me for.”

“I totally judge you for them. They’re gross.” Evanna starts to pile our plates with food.

I give her wide eyes. “I’m not sure how we became friends. I mean I don’t know if I can trust someone who doesn’t love Pizza Pringles, it’s just not normal.”

“Being a bit dramatic, are we?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nope, never, not when it comes to this.” I grab a Pringle and try to shove it at her. She locks her lips tight and shakes her head. I start laughing which causes her to follow behind me and before she realizes it, I’ve shoved the chip in her mouth.

She gives me an evil look, but eventually gets the chip down. “You suck, you know that, right?” I laugh. “I’m glad you’re feeling better though.”

I hug her. “What would I do without you Evanna?”

“You’d probably be hungry and jobless because you’d never make it to work on time. Now, take this plate and go eat so you’re not late,” she tells me, as she extends the plate to me. I grab it and take a seat at the tiny card table we found at the thrift store a few months ago. We needed a table where we could eat and this works.

“Do you work today?” I ask her. She nods but I don’t miss the look that flashes through her eyes. There’s something going on, but she won’t talk about it. I wish she’d just get a different job, but she makes killer tips at the strip club where she waitresses, so I understand but I still hate it for her. We eat in silence and once I’m done, I’m out the door.

I pull up to work and head inside. The smell of oil and gas hits me instantly and it gives me the feeling of comfort. I love being a mechanic. Anything to get me near a car. Memories float in my mind, like always. Every memory I have of my father is tied to a car somehow. I may be the only female mechanic at Flemings Auto, but I’m also one of the best. Sure, I get underestimated a lot, but I’m used to it and it’s fun to prove them wrong.

As I head inside some of the guys greet me. I clock in and slip into my work overalls before heading out to the bay where I’m working on a classic American muscle car. I love to just look at it. I slide under and get to work on the motor.

“Sutton!” I hear about an hour later. I slide out from under the car and grab my rag to wipe my hands. I head over to where Rob Fleming is standing with the guy from the races, Mr. Business card man. Instantly, my suspension goes on high alert. “He’s here to see you.”

I take in his appearance. He’s ditched the suit from last night. Today it’s just jeans, a ball cap and a Revv-It Racing team t-shirt. “Sutton Pierce, I’m Tucker Armstrong. I’m currently the crew chief and temporary scout for Revv-It Racing Team. Have you heard of it?”

“Can’t say that I have,” I tell him. I watch his every move to try and figure out if he has an ulterior motive, but I can’t find one yet.

He nods. “Do you follow Indy racing?”

“Nope. I can’t even say I’ve watched a race,” I admit, giving him an apologetic smile.

He waves off my nonverbal apology. “It’s not as followed as Nascar but it makes for some damn good racing. Anyways, I’m looking for a new racer to join our team and when I saw you...well, I knew you were perfect.”

I kind of laugh, half of it shock that this actually seems pretty legit and the other half just finds this funny. “No offense, Mr. Armstrong, but I’m sure there is a more formal way to recruit a racer. One that has actually trained for your track. I’m just an illegal street racing mechanic trying to make ends meet.”

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