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Third place. I needed it. All of us did.
“Great work, Mike,” I tell my pit chief. “The car drove great, and I appreciate the work you and the engineers put into it.”
The pit crew surrounds me, and I hug each one, giving them my appreciation. Drivers get all the accolades even though it takes the whole team. These guys are beasts on race days, and I’ve witnessed them train enough to know how much they work for it.
Bert approaches, arms stretched wide. What the hell, we both stink. I’m soaked under the suit. We loosely embrace, and he steps back. Someone hands me an energy drink, not seltzer, and I guzzle it.
“Great performance today, Jake. You did us proud.” Bert removes his hat, revealing a sunburn on his head. The poor guy must be miserable. “They’ll be more in your future.” He pointsat a reporter and leaves, probably for some needed shade.
It’s Jill Longwood, who operates the racingtoday.com site with her husband.
“Jake, tell us how you feel after today’s race.” She asks without preamble.
I pull my helmet off, chucking it into the car seat behind me. “Great. I had a fast car and one of the best pit crews in the entire series. They deserve most of the credit for these results, especially with that last stop.”
She doesn’t care. “You’ve had some rough performances this season, especially after last year. Are you out of the slump?”
Screw that, I was never in it. “Lots of racing still to go. Two poor starts in the beginning mean little, not to us. We’ll keep improving, and I’m confident there will be trophies in our future.”
A glance shows Boone Rivers doing his own interview. Sarah and Maddie are talking. Her back is to me, but I know she’ll eventually see the entire interview. She won’t be able to stop herself.
I smile, answer the following question, and casually raise my hand. To any viewer, it looks like a stretch. Only one person will know what it means, and she’s the only one who matters.
Five.
12-Sarah
Rivers Motorsports Headquarters, North Carolina
Martin: Being the oldest is strange. First, it made me not want kids, and then it made me want them. It scares you off, and then you realize you’re strong enough to do it. I was a parent once, so I can do it again. This is me saying I want kids someday.
Sarah: You shouldn’t put that responsibility on yourself. Siblings matter, but you aren’t a parent.
Martin: ….
Martin: That’s a good point. I’ll be incredible at it. Heck, I already have the white picket fence. All I need is a backyard playground set.
Sarah: And a few other things.
Martin: Nah….
We’ve traded DMs for a month and have still not discussed an in-person meeting. He’s fun to talk to, and finding someone so ordinary is lovely. Oddly, some of his comments are eerily close to what I want. For all that, he doesn’t seem interested in more.
It might be time to end things if he can’t bother asking me for coffee. So much of my dating life has centered on race car drivers. Maybe he’s expecting me to reach out first? It’s the next step, and either we do it or we don’t. If we don’t, it’s time for me to move on. There’s a plan to follow, and lingering on an anonymous guy isn’t a part of it.
I press my phone’s side button, and the screen goes dark. Ishould be listening to Boone’s speech.
“Thank you again,” he says, and the speech ends.
Oops.
I’m sure it was very inspiring.
We’re all back at headquarters to celebrate. Boone took second, and Julian won the first stage, with each of them also leading several laps. Our father, Tom Rivers, always says to celebrate every victory, even the ones that aren’t from winning a race. People perform better when they’re part of something.
“Where’s Maddie?” I ask after the room empties.
