Hot Laps (5 page)

Looking over at my phone, I sent a text to Anna.

Why is there a keg in my room? I’m not complaining. But seriously, how’d it get here
?

Anna didn’t respond and I really didn’t expect her to just yet. She was probably on
her way to work. Unlike me, Anna started working at sixteen with the same insurance
company her mom worked for. Given her attitude and lack of people skills, she held
a steady job believe it or not. Lucky bitch lived at home still too.

The alarm continued to go off until my roommate, Adam, pounded on the wall. “Seriously,
turn that goddamn thing off!”

Adam and I didn’t get along but I couldn’t pay the bills without having some support.
So what did I do? I posted an ad on Craigslist that I was looking for a roommate.
You would not believe the response I got. But after swindling some background checks,
Adam was the only one without a criminal background and crystal meth addiction.

Unfortunately for me, we could hear everything that occurred in each other’s rooms
too. I knew every moan his girlfriend made and what that particular moan meant. Sometimes
when Anna and I were bored, we recorded just the noises through the wall and posted
it on YouTube with captions that read:
Guess the position?

We had quite the following under our user name of:
Poon Tang Roomies
.

They, as in Adam and Katie, have no idea we do this by the way.

Eventually I decided to get my lazy hung over ass out of bed, spend an hour in the
shower and then another hour getting ready. I found the keg still had some beer in
it so I made use of it. After all, I must have expended a lot of energy getting it
up the goddamn stairs last night. I saw no reason why I couldn’t enjoy a drink before
work, or two, just to relax those first day jitters.

When I finally made my way to the kitchen, Anna had sent me a text that had me spewing
my morning cup of java all over Katie.

Her text read:
I swear to God, if I wake up with another no name penis in my vagina I’m pressing
charges against the makers of tequila. This shit is getting out of hand! At least
this guy is good looking. ☺

Anna wasn’t a slut but give her a bottle of tequila and her clothes melted off.

I wasn’t any better but it usually occurred with Fireball instead. I’ve never been
much of a tequila girl. Whiskey is my wish. Fireball, however, could destroy lives.
I mean that. I’m sure somewhere, probably in Vegas, Fireball has single handily resulted
in a divorce or two.

Thankfully, I gave that shit up months ago when I took home a guy from the bar and
wanted to chew my own fucking arm off in order to get away from him. We, as in my
vagina and me, collectively decided to never make that slutty mistake again. I had
a long discussion with her about who we allowed inside. We had to have some sort of
“code of conduct” for entrance.

When I left my apartment, I thought about what this day meant. Aside from responsibility,
I actually felt good that I was doing something.

Today was my first day at a real job.

Charlie Gomez, a friend from school, got me a job at the company he builds engines
for. Having an uncle who used to race NASCAR, I knew a little about the sport and
what company I was interviewing with. And after an extensive interview from who I
thought I’d never come face-to-face with, Mr. Jameson Riley, million time (okay, not
really) NASCAR Cup series Champion, and current World of Outlaws champion, I got the
job.

To say Jameson Riley was intimidating for a girl is a complete fucking understatement.
The man is intense. And his wife, my God, could one person be any more adorable?

I’ve only seen pictures but I had a feeling I was going to love her. I wouldn’t mind
just cuddling with her on the couch while she braided my hair and we watched re-runs
of
Friends.

The drive there wasn’t long. I lived in Cornelius, North Carolina, about eight miles
from the shop. As I passed by trees starting to come alive from the cold harsh winter,
I thought about what it meant to have a job now. Not only had I not held one but I
also wasn’t sure working for an engine company would be the best. Although having
an uncle that raced NASCAR, I knew enough about engines that I wouldn’t be completely
lost.

My first day there held so many possibilities as to what my future at CST Engines
might include.

Working for a company that manufactured race engines were sold to people who made
way too much fucking money and had death wishes with speed was very different from
my previous job of occupying my parent’s couch and watching the
Kardashians
.

Inside of the large gray building with their signature black roof and red trim, around
thirty employees, give or take, with three engine builders occupied the space.

When you walked into the building there was a showroom front and center with two NASCAR
Cup cars and a handful of sprint cars. About fifty feet into the showroom was another
set of large glass doors with polished stainless steel handles that led you to either
building. To the right was JAR Racing. To the left, CST Engines.

Once inside, the layout was open. If you looked to the left there was another series
of glass windows and a door that led downstairs to where the engine builders worked.

As you walked inside the space, to the right was Jameson’s office, which I happened
to sit right outside of.

When I interviewed for the job he told me I’d be doing ordering, answering phones
and working with a few different manufacturers to be sure their orders got in. They’d
recently took over doing crate engines for USAC series and needed to expand. That’s
where they needed the extra help around here.

Though Jameson hired me, he told me early on I was to do whatever Bailey needed. Naturally,
ninety percent of the employees had the last name of Riley.

Guess what Bailey’s last name was?

Yeah, hard to guess, huh?

Inside the doors of CST Engines was some interesting people to say the least. I got
there at nine that morning and met a handful of people. Jameson wasn’t there yet but
Bailey was the first to greet me.

Once I was inside, Charlie didn’t waste much time getting upstairs that morning to
greet me on my first day.

“Hey!” he said, all smiles and cheerful, two things I never am in the morning.

“Wanna meet the guys I work with?” He seemed excited.

“Sure … why not.” I tried to put as much enthusiasm into my tone as I could but remember,
two things I’m not in the morning; smiley and cheerful. He introduced me to Olivia,
a tall slender girl with black hair and tattoos. I would befriend her. I was sure
of that.

No one else was around so he took me downstairs where the shop was.

I’d already met Noah. I’ve known Charlie for a while and so naturally, I knew his
twin brother. I’d say the drunk side of me knew Noah a little better, too.

Yeah. I slept with him.

But it was something like two years ago at a high school party and I couldn’t tell
you much about the experience. Charlie probably knew more than I did, only he refused
to talk about it.

For a while I thought Charlie might have had a thing for me. But he never made a move
so neither did I. Besides, Charlie wasn’t my type. He was cute with thick dark hair
that fell hopelessly into piercing blue eyes, I’ll give him that but we weren’t really
a match. I couldn’t explain why, we just weren’t.

Anyways, we were friends since I was sixteen when I met him through my Uncle Tate
and then later in school when I was your average girl who got picked on. Charlie was
a senior when I was a sophomore and kind of took me under his wing. For a girl like
me that was appreciated because I wasn’t exactly popular. I was awkward.

As we walked downstairs, I tried to be graceful and not barrel roll down them.

Only problem was they were metal and had those stupid heel sucking rivets in them
and my heel got stuck and I face planted on the concrete floor. It wasn’t my most
graceful moment, but let’s be real, I was stably-challenged anyways. There really
was no hope.

When I did manage to right my footing and gain some control over myself, I took in
the shop. Inside the large space with vaulted ceilings were five tool boxes, each
one pushed up against gray walls. Surrounding them were work benches, tool carts with
engine parts and engine hoists. To the far right was a room that led to a long hallway
with the words Restroom and Parts Room written above the arched door frame of diamond
plated steel beams.

Sneaking peeks out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed groups of guys standing around
talking near the bay doors that were open leading out to a parking lot where the haulers
were parked.

After knowing Charlie as long as I have, I’ve come to the conclusion that most engine
builders are nerds and could talk your ear off about gear ratios, dyno tests and volumetric
efficiency. They are hardly civilized enough to actually speak to another person without
speaking “engine” let alone have a conversation with you.

Look at Charlie. He never stopped talking about engine and compression ratios.

And until now, I never thought I would meet one who was so, how should I say it, cool?

And then I did.

Straightening out my black dress, two guys who were wrapped in their “engine talk”
turned to look over at me. A few more stood quietly in the distance but I had yet
to focus on anything but the two in front of me.

Listening to them, this was where I realized that none of these engine builders were
your typical engine builders. This also explains how a guy like Charlie Gomez was
one, able to keep a job, and two, interact with others.

Charlie nudged me with his elbow.

“You already know my brother, Noah,” he said, grimily as his twin stepped forward
with a smirk and blue brown eyes that screamed I’m full of shit so don’t listen to
anything I say. They also screamed, I’ve seen your vagina!

He gave me a nod but then turned and walked away. Thankfully.

Charlie pointed to another guy standing by the door to another room where there appeared
to be an engine on a machine. The guy, who wasn’t wearing a shirt and holding a video
camera, waved and then Charlie said, “That’s Cole Riley, my cousin. He does the media
shit like taking videos at the races and then puts them on the website.” And then
he added, “He rarely has a shirt on.”

Charlie then pointed to another guy, taller, standing by the large bay doors with
brown hair that fell in his chocolate brown eyes. “And this is Logan Reins.”

Logan gave me a wave but paid little attention to me and more to the shorter guy standing
next to him with orange hair.

Charlie didn’t introduce the other one, they seemed busy, and instead punched the
shoulder of a rusty haired guy who bared a strong resemblance to Jameson with his
bright grass green eyes. Though it’d been weeks since my interview, I couldn’t forget
that color. No way.

The guy rocked backwards playfully keeping his eyes on mine in a way that made me
nervous. When his eyes traveled the length of my body without a shred of reserve,
I felt my cheeks warm.

“This is Casten Riley, Jameson’s son.” He gave him a nod. “Casten, this is Tate’s
niece, Hayden.”

Casten was just as pretty as his daddy and more polite than the other two when he
actually spoke to me.

“Nice to meet you, Hayden.”

His hand immediately reached out to touch mine and I was done for. Done for I tell
you. He was tall, lean, and oh so adorable. What stood out the most was his rusty
hair that fell in wavy loops over his ears sticking up in odd angles. He smirked,
the same sexy smirk his dad had.

Again, I was done for and without thinking, replied with. “You look like you’re up
to no good, sugar.”

That’s what I say right then? Kill me. Just kill me.

Sweet love of God, what the fuck is wrong with me? Have you lost your last few brains
cells?

Casten replied immediately with, “I am up to no good.” And then followed his statement
with a wink.

Charlie shook his head. “No, that’s not happening, ever. Stay away from her, Casten.”

Casten let out this laugh that had me melting because it was equally as loveable as
it was sexy.

“Hey, Charlie, give us a hand over here,” Logan called out while Casten leaned against
the engine hoist next to him, appearing comfortable.

He was confident that’s for sure.

Charlie eyed the two of us, a warning I’m sure, but I could give a rat’s ass what
Charlie thought about whom I dated. He thought for sure he was supposed to protect
me but he was nothing but a friend and I wasn’t going to have him interrupt this.

Hold up, dated? Who said I was dating him?

Control yourself you slut. You have no clue if he’s actually thinking of you that
way. Oh, but wouldn’t that be nice.

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. That’s when I took a looksee at Casten
who was still smiling at me.

“You look like you’re thinking something dirty?” I spit out before my tongue could
stop me. I don’t know where that came from.

You’ve lost it. Officially.

Casten laughed again, scratching the back of his head with the wrench in his hand.
His head bent forward and then he looked up at me through dark lashes. “First I’m
up to no good, and now I’m dirty? I’m a lot of things this morning, aren’t I?”

I nodded, thankfully keeping my mouth shut but smiled despite my muted self.

“Well … I guess you’ll have to see for yourself about that pretty girl, won’t you?”

I guess I will, won’t I?

Turns out having a job might be amazing.