Running Wide Open (32 page)

“Have a beer, Morgan,” Addamsen said, slapping a blue and white can down on the roof of the Dart.

I grinned at the idea of Race’s first beer in six weeks being of the cheap, American variety. But he simply opened the can and took a drink, doing a decent job of not letting his disgust show.

As Addamsen and his crew plowed through the Hamm’s, things loosened up. Race nursed his beer all afternoon, so I knew something other than alcohol was improving his spirits. By four o’clock the roll bars were in place, the new K-member was installed, the engine rested in its motor mounts, and a fresh door skin sat waiting to be painted. Race looked as confident as a guy with a twelve-car-lead on the last lap of Daytona.

“We’ve gotta get rolling,” Addamsen said as he wiped his hands on an old T-shirt. “But I might be able to make it back over here Thursday or Friday night if you need help with that suspension.”

“Nah, you guys have done enough. Cody and I can handle the rest.”

“So we’ll see you at the track on Saturday?”

“Better make it two weeks,” said Race. “I want to get a few practice sessions in first.”

Addamsen nodded.

“I appreciate the help,” Race told him.

“Well, I had to do something to liven things up at the track. It’s damned boring out there without you nipping at my heels.”

As luck would have it, just as Addamsen’s pickup backed away from the door, Kasey’s Charger pulled up. I wondered what she was doing here. She hadn’t been to the shop since before the wreck.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Race eyed her coolly. “Just getting a little help with the car.”

“From Jerry Addamsen?”

“I’m hardly in the position to look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyway, you ran off everyone else.”

Kasey peered accusingly in my direction.

“Don’t look at him like that,” Race said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out for myself. Every time I mentioned the car to Denny, he changed the subject.”

Without saying a word, Kasey shifted her gaze to the nearly finished Dart, a storm building in her eyes.

“We’re getting close,” said Race. “We might just have her back together for practice on Wednesday.”

“No.” Kasey spoke the word softly, more to herself than to Race. It wasn’t an order—it was denial. She glanced around the shop, her eyes coming to rest on the new door skin, the tweaked K-member, and finally the beer cans Addamsen’s crew had left scattered around.

“You were drinking,” she said.

“Oh, come on. I only had half of one, and you can’t even call that crap beer.”

“It contains alcohol. Alcohol’s a neurotoxin.”

Furrows formed in Race’s forehead as his newfound spunk gave way to agitation. “So how long do I have to wait before I can have a drink? Six months? A year?” He looked at her hard. “I don’t think you’ll be satisfied even then.”

“You’re not ready. You shouldn’t be drinking, and you shouldn’t be driving that car.”

“Damn it, Kasey, haven’t I lost enough without giving this up, too?”

“I don’t expect you to give it up, I just want you to wait.”

The last vestiges of Race’s patience evaporated. “I’ve been waiting long enough!”

“It’s too soon,” Kasey said, the pitch of her voice rising.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“You push too hard. That first day you drove the van—”

“Did it ever occur to you that you could have prevented that? I asked time and again for your help with the car. We could have taken it easy and done it your way, but you wouldn’t even give me that much.”

The two of them stared at each other like cats swishing their tails. Then Race’s expression softened and he sighed.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Kasey, and it’s not gonna work. You can’t control the world. You might think you’re keeping me safe, but you can’t protect me from everything.”

“Race—”

“No, listen.” Race’s voice took a more soothing tone. “I understand how hard this has been. I know I scared the hell out of you. But I can’t change what happened, all I can do is be more careful from now on. I owe it to you and Cody to make safety my first priority, but you can’t ask me to stop racing. I won’t.”

Kasey shook her head, looked away, closed her eyes. For the first time I understood how big her fear was and how out-of-control it made her feel.

Apparently Race did, too. He stepped forward, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled her close.

Kasey trembled in his arms, on the brink of tears, but not giving in.

“You don’t know how sorry I am,” Race whispered. He rested his cheek against her hair.

For several long moments Kasey let him comfort her. Then she pushed away, palms flat against his chest and face taut with sudden comprehension. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I
have
been holding you back.”

“I understand.”

Kasey’s eyes reflected a rush of thought. “I need to go,” she said. “I have to make a call.”

“What?” Race blinked down at her.

“To Denny,” she said. “To see if he’ll lend us Big Red.”

Chapter 30

After vowing that first thing Monday morning she was going to have a phone installed at Race’s shop, Kasey went to Dari Mart to make her call. When she came back she told us Denny had to work late the next day, but he promised to load Big Red onto his trailer so Race could swing by and pick her up. Finally, she filled us in on what had made her drop by to begin with.

“I’ve hired a mechanic. His name is Eddie and he just graduated from the automotive program at Lane. He doesn’t have much experience, but I’d rather train somebody myself than put up with deep-set bad habits. Besides, I like Eddie’s attitude. He has a real passion for old cars.”

“Can he weld?” I asked.

“He’s taken a class, but I decided you might have a point, Cody. Maybe Race would be willing to take care of the welding.” Kasey turned her attention from me to him, a question in her eyes.

“I’m still lousy at sheet metal,” Race confessed. “Too much starting and stopping. My fingers don’t wanna do it.”

“Then teach Eddie,” Kasey said. “That’s another thing I like about him—he’s eager to learn.”

* * *

The next day, Race went with me to Kasey’s shop to get an idea about what he was up against. We found her in the office, shuffling through a pile of payroll forms and receipts.

“Cody, why don’t you show Race what we’re working on. I need to get this finished so I can run it over to my accountant. I’m already facing a penalty.”

Race cocked his head to study the papers. “Quarterly payroll taxes? Shouldn’t you have filed those in July?”

“I should have, but I didn’t.”

“Kasey, you can’t let that stuff slide. You’ve got enough problems without riling up the Feds.”

“I know, I know.” She held up a hand to ward off the criticism. “But paperwork bores me to tears and it’s not one of my strengths. Why can’t the government leave me alone and let me restore cars?”

“It’s part of owning your own business,” Race said, as if he were some sort of authority on responsible behavior.

I leaned heavily against the doorway. Being of like mind with Kasey, I was bored just talking about paperwork. “Isn’t that what accountants are for?” I asked.

“No, accountants file taxes. They don’t do bookkeeping,” Kasey explained. “Or so my CPA keeps telling me. He said the next time I show up with an oil box full of work orders and receipts, he’s locking the door and turning off the lights.”

“This stuff doesn’t bother me,” Race said. “I can have a go at it if you want.”

“How do you know about payroll taxes?” Kasey asked. “You’ve never had any employees.”

“They covered that stuff in one of my business classes. So how ’bout it? It’ll give you time to get caught up on the important stuff.”

“I’d want to pay you.”

Race rolled his eyes. “It’s not enough that you’re feeding us and putting a roof over our heads?”

“Cody’s father compensates me for his room and board. Besides, if I paid you, you’d be able to buy the groceries for a change.”

“All right,” Race said. “You can pay me, but only if you start charging me rent.”

* * *

That afternoon Kasey closed the shop at a normal hour so we could go out to the track. As Race and I were loading the jack and tools into the van, she came up behind us.

“You might find this useful,” she told Race, holding out a Bell Helmet box.

His eyes went wide. “You bought this?”

“Not exactly. Your mother wanted you to have it, but she was confused by the choices. She asked me to order it.”

Gaping like he’d learned Dale Earnhardt was hiring him as a relief driver, Race broke loose the cardboard flaps and pulled out a black, full-face helmet.

“She knows you better than you seem to think,” Kasey said. “She predicted you’d be back out there before the season ended.”

Race couldn’t seem to find any words.

* * *

We swung by Denny’s house on the way to the speedway. When Race backed up to the trailer hitch on his first try it was clear he was making progress.

“Are you scared of getting back in the car?” I asked as we pulled away.

“Not half as scared as I am of
not
getting in it.”

At the track I unchained Big Red and backed her off the trailer while Race pulled his firesuit on over his clothes, resigning himself to letting Kasey help with the zipper.

“Maybe I oughta take her out for a few laps first,” I suggested, leaning out of the car. “You know, just to make sure she’s running okay.”

“Let’s not give Denny a heart attack,” Race said.

Reluctantly, I wiggled through the window of the Chevelle. “You’re gonna let me drive yours when it’s finished though, right?”

“In your dreams. But maybe one of these days all the stars will line up and we can think about building you a Street Stock.”

“Seriously?”

Race looked at me as if he were about to make a solemn vow. “I would never joke about something as important as a guy’s first race car.”

I stared open-mouthed as he maneuvered around me to climb into Big Red. While I’d fantasized about getting on the track, I’d never considered it happening in a car of my own.

Kasey waited for Race to belt himself in then handed the new helmet through the window. “Be careful.”

With his eyes saying he knew how hard it was for her to watch him do this, Race gripped her fingers. Kasey smiled sadly and squeezed back then pulled away so she could fasten the window net.

“He’ll be okay,” I said as she stepped aside and Race cranked the Chevelle’s engine.

“I know.”

I understood what she was feeling. Even though I’d been pushing to make this happen, it was kinda freaky, seeing him get in that car. “What we want isn’t as important as what Race needs,” I reminded her.

Kasey raised an eyebrow at me, but a flicker of humor played across her lips.

As Big Red pulled away, my conviction wavered. What if I was wrong about Race getting back on the track? What if he couldn’t do this? The disappointment might strip away his newly recovered confidence and make things worse than before.

The Chevelle whined down the backstretch, building up speed. I let the sound steady me as I sucked in a breath, hunting for my center. If Race had found the nerve to face that possibility, then I could, too.

For the first few laps he took it easy. I expected him to cut loose as soon as he had the tires warmed up, but after ten laps he was still backing off too soon going into the turns.

“You think he’s scared?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you be?”

The Chevelle decelerated down the front stretch and pulled into the pits. Kasey dropped the window net.

“I don’t even want to know what kind of times I was turning,” Race said, his voice heavy with disgust.

“It’ll come back to you,” Kasey encouraged.

“It better do it soon, because I’m running out of steam.”

Kasey helped Race wrestle off his helmet then offered him a bottle of Gatorade. He reached for it with a shaking hand.

“I feel like such a wuss.”

“Take your time. Denny said you could borrow the car as much as you like. We can always come back tomorrow.”

Scowling, Race thrust the bottle at her and jammed the helmet over his head. Kasey barely had a chance to help him with the chin strap and secure the window net before Big Red roared away.

“Way to get him psyched,” I said as the Chevelle screamed toward the pit exit, stirring up a cloud of dust.

“That wasn’t exactly my intention.”

“Whatever. It worked.”

Back out on the track Race pushed the car to the limit, slinging it through the corners like he still believed he was invincible. My nagging fear evaporated as it became clear he still had whatever it was that made him so good. Then, coming out of turn four, he got on the accelerator a little too soon and broke the back tires loose. The Chevelle’s rear end whipped around, nearly smacking the wall. When Race tried to correct, Big Red spun, coming to rest facing backwards in the middle of the front stretch.

My heart felt like it was firing on all cylinders at once, then none at all. I glanced at Kasey, who looked equally rattled. Was this what we could expect every time he spun out?

The Chevelle sat quiet and motionless on the track, indicating Race was engaged in a struggle of his own.

“Well, that shook him up,” I said as my heart fell back into its normal firing order. “But it’s nothing a little pep talk won’t fix.”

I jogged onto the asphalt to peer through the square holes in the window net. “You okay?”

Race was gripping the wheel so hard I figured it would take a hacksaw to get it out of his hands. He turned to face me, too flustered to hide what he was feeling.

“Guess you’ve still got your edge,” I said.

“I’m beat, kid,” he stammered. “I’m ready to call it a day.”

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to get out there to begin with. Still, I was disappointed.

“All right,” I sighed, making no effort to hide my feelings. “Come on in and we’ll get her on the trailer.” I turned and headed back to Kasey.

Behind me the starter cranked and the Chevelle pulled around, rumbling toward the pit entrance. At the last minute, it swung wide to cut through the grass at the edge of the infield. The tires gave a little squeal when they bit into asphalt. I grinned and shook my head as Big Red ripped through the turn, coming out onto the backstretch wide-open. Race was so easy.