Race to Redemption (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

Brant Bye sat in the driver’s seat of his car trying to get comfortable and relaxed behind the wheel. He’d forgotten in all the excitement of trying to send Chloe home and Rueben being taken to the hospital that he hadn’t driven since that first day in New York.

“It’s like riding a bike—you never forget,” he whispered, his hand twisting on the wheel. Of course he was deliberately forgetting that he hadn’t been on a bike since he’d gotten his licence seven years earlier.

“How are you doing in there?” asked Seth’s voice in his ear.

“I’m fine,” he growled. In truth his foot was killing him. He’d taken off his cast before going to bed and hadn’t taken anything for the pain. Seth had argued with him on that one but he’d been adamant.

‘I need to be on top of my game, not doped up’. Now he was wondering if maybe a single dose at five wouldn’t have been smart. It hadn’t hurt at all when he’d rolled out of bed and he hadn’t counted on it getting so bad so quickly.

He looked out the passenger side window. #75, Trey Williams, was starting in third which meant there was only one car between them. Once they were in the race and up to full speed that car wouldn’t offer any protection.

“Heads up, Brant. The flag man is stepping up.”

“All right. I’m ready if you are.”

* * * *

Trey Williams was nervous for the first time since he’d first climbed behind the wheel at fifteen with a fake license. Being led off by the cops had shaken him up pretty bad. He was lucky Chloe had been able and willing to spring him, and he knew it. Knowing it was his own manager who was pointing the finger at him was even worse.

“Hey,” Jake said. “You okay out there?”

He sighed audibly. “I’ll be fine. I just feel there’s a lot riding on this race.”

“Maybe there is. Doesn’t matter right now. Right now you need to drive. Get ready for the pace lap. The flag’s coming up.”

“All right, I see him.” He revved his engine, settled himself in his seat, and felt his vision narrow as he focused.

They started moving, falling in behind the pace car. Brant’s foot throbbed more persistently and more painfully the harder he pushed down on the gas pedal. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel tighter.

“Brant, you’re already lagging a little. Watch number 14 behind you, he’s going to be tight on your ass for a few laps.”

“I know, Seth,” Brant growled. He hated when Seth filled in as his spotter—Seth was a worrier and a micro-manager and liked to overload him with details. Chloe was more relaxed, more in tune with the flow of the race.

Chloe won’t be spotting for you anymore. You can’t trust her, remember?

As they neared the end of the pace lap he started edging his speed up so that he was already accelerating smoothly when the pace car pulled off the track and the green flag dropped. He slammed his foot down and grunted.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!”

Chloe heard Seth’s question and glanced away from the track. She knew Brant would be in a lot of pain. The lack of a cast and the strained look on his face had not been lost on her that morning.

Beside her Jake was saying something about sloppy corners so she turned back to the track in time to see Trey’s back end swinging on the bottom corner and Brant take a definite lead.

“Is he okay? You checked his car over, right?”

Jake covered the microphone. “I’m not supposed to look at the car, I’m just a spotter.”

“You have oil under your nails.”

“Okay, Trey knows I’d rather be fixing cars than spotting for him. He told me to look over the car in case Boyd was paying off Willy, the mechanic.”

“And!?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the car.” He uncovered the mike. “Sorry. Watch number 30, he’s trying to get by you on the outside. That corner looks better.”

“I’m driving, not trying to win an art contest,” Trey snapped.

“You’re driving like an amateur. Get your head in the game. You’re halfway done and you’re barely holding to 34’s bumper!”

“I got it! I got it!” He slammed through a corner, gaining precious inches on number 34, the lead car.

For a moment he faltered as he thought,
What’ll it do to Chloe if I win?
The sight of another bumper in his rear-view mirror shook him out of it.
Stop it! You need to focus on driving!

He pressed harder on the already maxed out gas pedal, willing more speed out of the car, trying to out run his own doubts before they cost him the race.

Trey knew he was in a tenuous position. The rest of the cars were at his back trying to find an opening to sneak past him forcing him to weave on the straightaways. It cost him speed and he was affectively acting as Brant’s body guard, keeping all other challengers away.

He whipped through another corner and noted that Brant wavered, losing speed and allowing Trey to shave a few more inches off the gap between them. Trey gritted his teeth and floored it going into the straightaway, staying dead on Brant’s tail, no weaving or dodging.

Just as he thought he wasn’t going to gain enough ground before the corner Brant slowed suddenly forcing Trey to swerve violently.

Seth was screaming but Chloe could only watch, her hands over her mouth, as Trey veered towards the boards and Brant nearly stalled in the middle of the track. Jake was shouting out orders as she said silent prayers to whatever god watched over race car drivers, wishing for safety for both her lover and her brother.

Trey pulled away from the boards only to find himself heading straight for Brant who seemed to be having trouble with the upcoming corner.

Inside number 34 Brant couldn’t breathe. The pain had become too intense. He couldn’t put his foot back against the pedal.

“BRANT, TURN THE WHEEL!”
Seth hollered in his ear.
“HE’S GOING TO HIT YOU!”

Something inside Brant sparked to attention and he slammed the wheel to the right and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, screaming in pain.

Both number 34 and number 75 cleared the corner, side-by-side, leaving the other cars who had been nervous of a wreck in the dust as they flew off down the straightaway again.

“Four more corners,” Seth said, trying to sound soothing. “Four more corners Brant and you’ve got this. You’re ahead by half a car.” But Seth could see Brant was losing the smooth control of the corners that was needed to win a race and each corner brought Trey closer and closer to the lead. All Seth could do was pray that four corners wasn’t enough to give the race to Trey.

They flew across the finish line as the flag dropped and two heart beats later the other cars went by. It was close, so close Chloe couldn’t trust herself to say for certain if Trey or Brant had won. Jake was still shouting into the headset but Chloe wasn’t listening. Her eyes were glued to the big screen at the far corner of the track. It only took a moment for names to start appearing but slots one and two remained empty. The cheering of the crowd slowly died down as everyone waited for the finish line footage to be analysed.

Trey had coasted to a stop and climbed out of his car. His brother, who had been hollering only a moment earlier was strangely silent. “Jake? What’s going on up there?”

“It was close,” Jake said. “Hold on.” There was a bump.

“Trey, it’s Chloe.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Me? How are you? That was one hell of a race.”

“Jake said it was close.”

“Look at the board.”

Trey looked up and saw the two blank slots and swore. “Are they still debating?”

“I guess so.”

Seth was across the room calmly relaying the same information to Brant. Brant sat in the driver’s seat, breathing hard. His foot was throbbing with persistent ache that made it hard to think and even harder to listen. “Seth, just stop talking, all right?”

He took off his helmet and pressed the balls of his hands against his temples. Suddenly it was difficult to see.
How the hell am I supposed to get out of here and walk in a straight line? If I can’t claim the winner’s cheque they’ll disqualify me and this will be over.
He took a deep breath.

“Okay Seth, where do I go next?”

“Nowhere yet, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It was a photo finish and the officials haven’t reached a decision yet.”

Every word Seth spoke stabbed through his head until his vision blurred. “Good. Fine.” Brant said. “Tell me when they do decide. Until then, don’t talk.”

The seconds ticked by into minutes. The crowd grew restless. Chloe chewed her lower lip as the knot twisted in her stomach.
If Brant wins Trey will be fine. A second place finish won’t hurt his career. But Brant will be insufferable. If Trey wins Brant will never let it go, there will be no reconciliation when tempers have cooled, there will be no going home again. He’ll turn Dad against me and that will be the end of everything.

Finally there was a flicker on the screen and a crackling over the speakers. An official sounding voice said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize for the wait. All the track officials have reviewed the finish line footage and have agreed on the finish order of the race.”

Lower on the listing a few names changed position but still slot one and two were empty.

Brant dragged himself from his can and forced himself to stand up straight just as the last two names were posted. Brant could not believe his eyes.
All the risks, all the pain, all for nothing.

He turned in slow motion and saw Trey Williams coming towards him, a smile on his face and a hand outstretched. “Now that was a real race! I thought for sure you had me there.”

Brant’s temper, which was easily piqued on the best of days, boiled over almost instantly, the pain putting a particularly cruel edge on his words. “You knew all along you were going to win so don’t you dare try some ‘good sportsman’ routine with me! You have tried from the beginning to take me out because you knew I was a threat to your standing and your career, just like the others who were conveniently removed from races so you could win without a challenge.”

Trey dropped his hand. “Brant, I didn’t try to take you out of this race.”

“Bullshit. My racing record is public record so you knew I’d be too much competition for you to handle. You sabotaged my car so I’d crash in the trials, you didn’t expect me to find the sabotage before then. Then, when I was back in the running you broke in to sabotage my car again but you didn’t get the chance. All you did was forget your glasses. Maybe they’re not damning on their own but they’ll be the nail in your coffin.

“You had that big fight with Boyd after I beat you in the trials. You promised him an easy win, another spotless record, another pole position start, and when you couldn’t deliver he tore a strip off of you and that hurt your pride.”

“You’re making half of this up, aren’t you?”

Brant didn’t stop. “You seduced my sister so you’d have a trustworthy alibi and I could kill you for that alone. When the cops take you away it’s going to crush her. She thinks she loves you, you heartless bastard.”

Seth’s voice crackled in his ear. “Are you talking to Trey? Do you think that’s a good idea? Maybe you should walk away.”