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“We’re talking over some of your competitors,” Maddie says. She could have gone into politics if she wanted. “You won’t find it interesting.”
“Sounds like fun,” Boone says, already losing interest. “I’m going to shower and get ready for bed.” He approaches Maddie, pulls the hair off her neck, and kisses the tender spot by her ear. “I love you,” he says in a sweet whisper.
I’m going to throw up.
Maddie echoes him and then says, “I’ll be up soon. Tomorrow will be another long day.
“It always is.” Boone steps into the hallways and then returns. “Oh, Sarah. Are you staying over?”
Maddie and I built a habit of spending one night together during the racing season. Once it ended, she turned one of their spare rooms into a suite just for me, and I regularly use it.
“We’re both in pajamas, Boone.”
He blinks, taking in our attire for the first time. “Good. You don’t need to be driving this late. Something could go wrong.”
“I brought a suitcase over,” I tell him, letting it sink in. “I’ll be here awhile.”
He glances at Maddie. “Well, I guess we can set out another plate at dinner. Stay as long as you need.” He fluffs the top of my hair. “See you in the morning, then.”
I stop breathing until his footsteps fade away. “Do you have a camera in here?” I ask Maddie.
“I don’t think so.” She turns around to check the digital displays on the microwave and stove. “Maybe we do? Time for a new topic.”
We leave my love life behind so Maddie can inform me about her newly planted fruit trees. My father failed to make a go of it, so she promised to keep trying.
I don’t respond to Jake’s text. Maddie gave me an idea for my next steps, and he absolutely, positively does not play a part in them.
4-Jake
Daytona International Speedway
Daytona Beach is gray. The granite sky, set off by silver clouds, does not reflect my mood.
Call me Race Car Driver Sunshine because rainbows are coming out of my ass today.
I check the time on my phone; like magic, it rings, and I grin at the image that pops up. “Mom! You were supposed to call yesterday.”
Her smile is heard over the phone line. “Well, there you are, honey. I missed seeing you practice on the television. I hoped for a glimpse of your handsome face.” If I were present, she would squeeze my cheek. Years ago, my father claimed I inherited his looks and her disposition. My hair and eye color come from Julia Knowles, so I sometimes wonder what that means. I would ask, except the opportunity ended when I was still in my teens.
“The fun comes tomorrow when I win. You’ll see me then.” I glance around the hauler in case someone entered without me noticing. It’s rare to find it empty during a racing weekend. “How are Jess and Josie?”
We all share the same first letter in our names. I was born seven months after their wedding and named by my father. He carried the tradition forward for the next three kids, and my mother did the same for my youngest sister, Josephine, knowing it was what he would have wanted.
“Out with friends. They’ll be watching with me,” Momsays and hesitates. “Josie had her latest dentist appointment yesterday. She needs braces.”
“That’s not a problem. Can you ask them to send me the bill?" Once, this news would have frightened us.
“It’s already done. I didn’t want you to be surprised, that’s all. You do enough for us,” Mom says. The guilt is back in her voice.
“I barely do anything,” I say back. Sending money home is necessary, but it isn’t the same experience as being there. “Miss you guys.”
“You talked to your boss yet?”
I take another glance. She’s known about my long-term plans from my first Cup race, but this is the first time I was ready to share more. Naturally, she’s rooting for me, like any good parent, partly because she doesn’t understand how complicated this could be. There are decent odds it will stay a dream for years. “Not yet, soon though. This is my contract’s last season, and I want a couple more strong finishes before saying anything. You’ll be the first one I tell, promise.”
“Well, if you need me to come down there and give him a good talking-to, I will,” she says. Spoken just like a mom.
I chuckle because the image is funny. Gray streaks her blond hair. Despite this, she still keeps it long and in loose pigtails. She also tie-dyes most of her clothes. The idea of Julia Knowles marching into Bert Deere’s office to demand he make all her son’s dreams come true is hilarious. Knowing that she was able to help her son would please her.
