Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
She was the one for me.
All I had to do was tell her.
“How are you doing, Gus?”
She bounced a little in her fire-retardant sneakers and glanced my way in acknowledgment, but didn’t stop pacing. “Hey, Wade. You know me. Doom-spiraling into a panic attack. Same old, same old. What are you doing out of the paddock? Or the pit, or home base—did you know you all call it something different? The race starts in less than an hour.”
“Thirty-five minutes now. You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“Not particularly, no.”
I held up the water bottle. “I brought something to make this conversation a little easier.”
Her eyes narrowed on it. “Are you using my trick on me?”
“It’s our thing now. This happens to be a bottle of water straight from the honesty pool.”
I had clearly lost my mind, but the spark of amusement in her eyes said she appreciated it, and that was all that mattered.
“No judgments, remember?” I continued, moving closer. “Just some straight talk to get whatever’s going on in your head off your chest. Did someone say something that upset you? A judge or one of the other teams?”
She snatched the water bottle out of my hand like a talking stick and started pacing again. “Everyone here is very friendly. Like Stepford friendly. Like they know you’re going to die, so they’re lulling you into a false sense of security friendly.”
“So when you said doom-spiraling, you weren’t emphasizing the doom enough. Have you ever considered writing horror?"
She smirked for a moment and met my gaze. “Fine. They’re genuinely decent people with no secret evil agenda. Is that better? Gene really stumbled onto something here. I’m not surprised Mom wanted to be a part of it. I am surprised that someone didn’t manage to talk me out of joining in before things got this far.”
I wasn’t about to remind her of my initial reaction. I leaned against the car and crossed my arms. “You don’t have to do it.”
“What was I thinking?” she went on, as if she hadn’t heard me. “A few defensive driving lessons doesn’t make me that Danica chick. And I know there are better female drivers to mention, because she’s gone all lizard-people gonzo, but you know what I mean.”
Did I?
“I’m not a risk taker. Do you know I’ve never competed in an actual sport in my life? Video games and bar trivia don’t count.”
“I was never going to say they did.”
“Thank you for getting it.” She spun on her heel, pointing her water bottle toward the paddock. “Chick went all out for this. Did you see that RV? Bernie gave me a crash course in stretching and another in speeding. I’m super flexible now, thanks to her.”
She really was.
“Morgan showed up. Everyone is here.” The water bottle now pointed at the stands. “Five of my mother’s oldest friends came here to support her car. Cyndy, Dayna, Eddie, Susan… Beatrice even flew in from London. They made Jiminy T-shirts and hats, Wade. Well, Eddie is wearing a ‘Free Robert Duvall’ T-shirt, which is related to this ongoing Trivial Pursuit joke he had with Mom, but he’s holding a sign and everything. And Phoebe keeps calling and demanding we FaceTime because she wants to be a part of it, even though she’s dealing with a three-week-old baby and our two dogs.”
That made me smile. Our two dogs.
I was easy to please.
Meanwhile, August wasn’t done spiraling.
“If I crash and burn in front of them—hopefully not literally—after making such a big deal out of this? I will never get over it.” She stopped pacing again. “You were right from the start. I should have thought this through and realized it was a horrible idea for me. The good news is that the car is still in the race. That’s all that matters. It might even be better this way. No one will notice if I chicken out, go home and hide under the bed for the rest of my life. They’re probably expecting it.”
I needed to put a stop to this now.
“Unlock Myrtle, Gus.”
“What? Why?”
“Please.”
She made an “Ugh, fine” face and pushed her key fob. As soon as I heard the beep, I opened up her door, put her in the back seat and came around to sit beside her.
“Don’t try to distract me with your big sexy body and its ability to manhandle me like I’m a paperweight,” she said with a suspicious look. “I’m panicking.”
“Would it be okay if I addressed a few of your concerns?”
“It won’t help, but you can try.”
“Chick didn’t fly out here for the race,” I told her. “He flew out for you—okay, and to get away from that over-amorous wrestler, but he really came to be here for you. I imagine the same is true for your mother’s friends. They came to support you. Meanwhile, Bernie’s stretching and speeding might have started out for you, but they also distracted her from her grandmother blues, which were becoming an issue. And Kingston has enough film to make two documentaries, whether or not you ever agree to his interview.”