Smokin' & Spinnin' (9 page)

Garrett speaks as I survey the room in amazement. “Jerri said that you were new to stock car racing, so I thought I would give you some insight to me and my organization,” he explains as he waves his hand toward his collection.

“Wow, this is incredible!” I say in awe.

“Everything on this floor is in its original state and from my personal collection. We have reproductions on the main level for our fans and visitors.”

I nod and automatically understand why.

“That is the reason there is a special code for this level and only certain people have access to this floor,” he further explains.

As Garrett speaks, I take a moment to look him over. He is ruggedly handsome. I know now where Ryan gets his looks from. Garrett has the same fierce blue eyes that dance with a devilish gleam. Only, he does not have the overexerted arrogance to go along with it. His beautifully sculptured jawline mirrors Ryan’s perfectly. And although their hair colors do not match, the hairline is the same.

As we begin our tour, Garrett talks comfortably about his humble beginnings in racing, building his first car with his father, NASCAR great Garrison Carter, and training his son to become a driver. “I have been very fortunate in the fact that I love what I do and that I also happen to be good at it.” He smiles fondly at the memories. “It also helps that my son loves the sport as much as I do and is as good, if not better, than me.” He winks at me. The way he speaks of Ryan is heartwarming. It almost makes Ryan seem like a normal person.

Since Garrett is being so open, I dig for more information. “Forgive me for the stupid question, but how did you become a NASCAR driver?”

Garrett smiles and gestures for me to follow him over to another corner of the display room. “This is my father, Garrison Carter.” He motions toward several dated photographs on the wall.

I smile and nod as I examine the photographs, another handsome Carter. Those roots also run deep.

Garrett speaks slowly and hesitantly. “My father was a very difficult man, but a hard worker and great provider for our family. Whenever he had free time, he spent it obsessing over his homemade stock car that he raced locally on a dirt track not too far from here.” He takes a deep breath. “I was mesmerized by him. I wanted to be with him every second, so I spent as much time with him as I could, which meant being with him in our garage, working on his car.”

Garrett continues with ease, “He was a hard man, and in order to please him, I paid attention to learn as much as I could about this sport that he was so transfixed by. The more I learned, the more praise I received from him, which was little at best. But I wanted to please him, and that is what it took.” He sighs deeply at his recollections, and I watch him intently, completely enthralled in his story. “Which I guess will explain why I am so forgiving and lenient with Ryan. That
is something that I struggle with. I want to make sure Ryan knows how important he is to me above all this because I always felt second-rate with my own father.”

Garrett’s revelation makes me want to cry. He senses my reaction and gestures for us to keep moving through the tour.

We approach a large display case in the back of the showroom that boasts ten large silver trophies. Garrett falls in line behind me. “I still can’t believe those. It all seems surreal after the fact.”

I have no idea what the awards are for, so I ask, “What do these trophies represent?”

Garrett eyes me warily. “Those trophies represent ten NASCAR championships that I have won throughout my career. I have won more championships than any other driver in the history of stock car racing.”

I flush, embarrassed at my ignorance.

Garrett recognizes my embarrassment and helps me to understand. “Each week, drivers accumulate points based on how they run in the race, how they finish, and laps led, et cetera. After the last race, points are tallied, and the driver with the most points wins the season championship. Since I am semiretired now, my goal is to get Ryan in the best position possible to continue this legacy.”

“How many championships has Ryan won so far?” I ask naïvely.

Garrett chuckles. “Zero!” He shakes his head. “Ryan has a very different racing style than mine. I am more patient, whereas Ryan is very spontaneous, or hasty, if you will, with his actions, which leads to more accidents and car problems. I am trying to teach him to be more
patient, persistent, and consistent on the track, but I haven’t gotten very far with that yet.” He sighs.

“Good luck with that,” I interject, but am instantly remorseful of my quick outburst.

Garrett doesn’t acknowledge my rant as he continues, “Ryan has every ability to be as good if not better than I have been in my career. Don’t get me wrong, he has a long way to go, but I see a great deal of myself in him, especially at his age. His mother says I can’t really give him a hard time because I was the same way at his age. Then again, she has no room to talk either because Ryan has an extra dose of hardheadedness that comes directly from her.”

I watch as Garrett’s eyes light up and sparkle at the mention of Ryan’s mother. He laughs quietly. He is such a sweet man, and it is very evident how much he loves his family. Why can’t Ryan be like this?

I laugh. “Yes, sir. I know too well. We don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“I know, or, well…so I have heard,” Garrett admits. “There are several people who keep me informed of goings-on around here, even though Jerri likes to keep me out of it. Honestly, I have never seen anyone handle Ryan like that.” Garrett laughs and shakes his head. “I believe that you will be good for him. He needs someone to give him a good ration of shit every day. He has wonderful potential and far more opportunities than I ever had. It is finally time for him to come into his own because one day soon, this will all belong to him,” Garrett says as he gestures around to his accomplishments.

Chapter 10

I
t is a little after noon when I make it back to my desk. After the heated boardroom bout with Ryan and a walk down memory lane with Garrett, I am finally able to sit down at my desk to start preparing for Sonoma. I can’t even grasp the fact that I will be flying across the continental United States in less than a week.

Jerri wants me to attend only Sunday’s race again this week but says I will be ready for a full weekend by Kentucky. I have got to take this one race at a time, especially if I want to keep this job. I am going to have to stay one step ahead of Ryan and show him that I can do this job and do it well. I wonder how he will take the news that I am his new permanent public relations manager. Hmmm…I am glad that I don’t have to deliver that information to him.

I look around my office to get my bearings. The beautiful pink floral arrangements make me smile and remember the conversation that I was having with Colton before all hell broke loose. Then, all of sudden I remember—Brooke! Crap! I have to deal with her. She has got to be seventy shades of pissed by now.

I shuffle some papers on my desk and find my iPhone buried underneath a stack of Ryan’s sponsorship agreements. I am scared to look
at it. There is only the one voice mail from Brooke, which I am hesitant to listen to, but I hit play anyway. Brooke’s voice booms through the speaker.

“Whitney Elaine Parker!” I pull the phone away from my ear. Jeezus! “I know you declined my call and deliberately sent it to voice mail. How in the hell do you spring this on me over text? Colton Johnson. Oh my God! Who, what, when, where, and how! Come off the details!” I laugh out loud as her message ends.

I tap the call log and select Brooke’s cell phone. The phone dials, and in about half a ring, Brooke is on the line.

“Where the
hell
have you been?” Brooke exclaims.

I am still enraged, and I take it out on her. “Listen here, I have just been through World War Three in this office, with him, not to mention the fact that I just about got fired by his father. So, I would appreciate it if you would cut me some damn slack right now.”

Brooke gasps, shocked by my outburst. “OK…OK…But you can’t spring some news like bringing Colton Johnson with you for drinks tonight over text and then leave me hanging!”

I groan. “I will explain everything later.”

Brooke whines, “How? You won’t be able to talk in front of Colton.”

She is right. I stop a moment to think. “I will meet you at six and tell him to be there at seven. Is that good?”

“That works,” Brooke says. “See you soon.”

I hang up the phone with Brooke and look around to make sure no one is watching me or that Jerri is not lurking around. I don’t want her to catch me on my personal cell phone again. The coast is clear. I switch over to my message app.

I select Colton’s previous message. I type:

___________________________________________

We are meeting at the Rock Bottom Brewery down
town at 7. If you are still interested, that is...

____________________________________________

I wait for a response with my heart in my throat. Within a few moments, my phone buzzes in response.

________________________

Yes, very. See you there.

_________________________

My heart flutters.

____

Okay.

___

This has been one hell of a day, and it ain’t over yet.

Chapter 11

I
arrive at the brewery in downtown Charlotte promptly at six o’clock. Brooke is waiting for me in a booth in the back. She eyes me intently as I slide in.

“First of all, you look like hell!” she exclaims.

“I had a wonderful day. Thank you so much for asking!” I say sarcastically back to her.

Brooke smirks at me. “Go to the bathroom and get yourself together before he gets here. I will get a round of drinks coming.”

I sigh loudly, and my shoulders fall. I don’t know if I even have the energy after the day I have had. I rest my arm on the table and put my head in my hand.

“Whitney, here,” Brooke calls out to me and produces her makeup bag from her purse. “Go! It will make you feel better.”

She is right again. I nod my head and stand up to walk to the bathroom. I turn back sharply to Brooke. “No tequila. Not tonight. I have to keep my head on straight.”

Brooke gives me a wink. “Smart girl!”

After twenty minutes in the bathroom, I am able to make myself somewhat presentable by touching up my makeup and brushing through my brown hair. Even it looks tired. I sigh and head back to the table.

Brooke lights up when she sees me. “Much better!”

“Thanks, Mom!” I mumble sarcastically as I slide back into the booth. There is a glass of white wine waiting in front of me. I down almost half of it in one swallow.

Brooke eyes me intently. “Come on, spill it! You only have ten, maybe fifteen, minutes tops before he gets here! Go!”

I know what she is waiting for, so I dump all the gory details of the last twenty-four hours before Colton arrives. I hold up my hand. “First of all…don’t get all giddy about this. Nothing, I repeat nothing, can happen.”

Brooke frowns at me. I roll my eyes at her.

“Do you need a reminder that I have just gotten out of a long, agonizing relationship, which I am to blame for.” Brooke tries to interrupt me, but I don’t give her a moment to cut in. “Yes, my fault! Stupid, and I don’t even know what other adjectives, best describe my current situation. I am not going back there. I am no longer know that girl! So, I am not about to get involved with another man, especially one that I have to work with. I have let one man control me and run my life. It ain’t going to happen again!”

Brooke looks at me wild-eyed. “Are you sure that you didn’t hit the tequila before you left the office?”

I laugh out loud. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to whip out my soapbox!”

Brooke laughs in return. “Oh, that’s fine! Just put the soapbox
up
and tell me about the day’s events at Peyton Place!”

I finish off my first glass of wine as I begin to recap the day for Brooke.

Brooke whistles out at the conclusion of my story. “What a son of a bitch!”

“I told you!” I retort. “See? Good looks will not cover a multitude of sins.” I click my tongue at her. Before she can comment, an incoming message alert on my phone catches both of our attentions.