The Legend (8 page)

“Ready for
another year” I ran my left hand through my hair. My eyes focused on the book
and the worn corners.

“Same shit
different year.” He said chewing on his lip and flipping the pages of the book
as if he was hunting for something specific in it.

“Are you
thinking of going to another team?” I asked eventually. We had worked together
my entire stock car career since 2002. The thought of not having him around had
never crossed my mind until tonight.

Finally finding
the page he was looking for, he scratched a few notes in his books, shifted to
rest his elbows on the table and then looked up at me. “Sure, I’ve thought
about going to another team at times. Most crew chiefs don’t stay with the same
team as long as I have. But,” he paused and focused on me, “you are my family.”

“How’s
Kiera
doing these days?”

“Oh, well,
she left me.” Kyle wasn’t the first guy on the team to get a divorce nor would
he be the last. In fact, most of the boys had either split up from girlfriends
or divorced over the years. It’s just the way it was. “It was to be expected. I
couldn’t expect her to live a life without me there.”

I couldn’t
deny that he was right. I was his only family these days. Through a string of
broken relationships, Kyle had yet to find a wife that was willing to give up
having her husband home two days a week. It seemed that after Gentry was
killed, Kyle put everything he had into our team. I could understand that too.
It was a way of him coping with the loss. Everyone had different ways of
dealing with the loss of those fourteen guys on my plane and they all came down
to distractions.

Hearing
the news of Kyle splitting from his wife, I missed my own wife by the time
Saturday rolled around and final practice sessions were beginning. Come Sunday,
the only thing that kept my mind off her was the shit going down around me the
morning of the race.

Each year
our team builds cars to the specifications provided by NASCAR. We had a
specialized team of guys, known as fabrication specialists, back at the shop in
Mooresville that did this and each year, we pushed into the gray areas for a
little more room. Every team does it too. Sometimes you get caught, others you
don’t.

Once a car
is built, NASCAR puts their stamp of approval on it back at the NASCAR Research
and Development Center in Concord North Carolina. They do this by putting a
radio frequency chip in a discrete area and a sticker of approval that is
similar to a VIN number on the chassis for future scanning purposes.

Once at
the track, the cars we now use (COT, Car of Tomorrow) is inspected with one
template that is actually about nineteen templates in one. The claw, as we
called it, is placed over the car during the morning inspection. From there
NASCAR officials check for clearance at various locations.

That
morning, of the Daytona 500, we didn’t pass inspection. The thing was why it
had passed earlier and not now. What changed? What changed was that before they
never put the claw on it, just rolled through the inspection trying to get
everyone through.

Dave
Jenkins, the official closest to me, leaned into my shoulder, “Looks like
this’ll be a pretty penny Riley.”

He was
right. When NASCAR found a problem, we paid for it.

Turns out
our fenders weren’t lining up correctly and neither were the c-posts. Bobby and
Paul had the same problem.

We fixed
it that morning with the understanding we’d all be starting from the back. This
wasn’t bad for me because I had messed up and scrapped the wall during
qualifying and only managed to snag a twenty-fifth starting position. Yeah
forty-third wasn’t going in the right direction but neither was getting caught
cheating.

So, we
fixed it. Problem solved, right?

Not quite

NASCAR, as
the sanctioning body of our sport, has, and always will, hold the right to
punish at their discretion.

That
morning after the drivers meeting, we were told for one, we’d start from the
back, Jimi was being fined $50,000 and our team in particular was fined
$25,000. Then they added that Kyle would be suspended for two races.

We filed
an appeal right away.

Would we
win the appeal?

More than
likely the answer was no, but we had to file one to keep Kyle on the box for
Daytona.

Kyle,
Mason and I huddled around the car as Jimi wheeled himself up the grid. “These fines
are getting as steep as Kyle’s hair line,” he spouted off with a carefully
composed expression.

Mason and
I chuckled. Kyle did not. He was suppressing his irritation the best he could
but not well enough. He sighed and looked over the car. “We fucked up.” He
frowned, “I can’t offer much more than this.”

Kyle’s
eyes drifted from mine to the tram working diligently to fix the car as he
focused on the difficult position this put all of us in. The muscles in his jaw
pulsed as his free hand scrubbed at his face, his frustration flamed.

I couldn’t
have Kyle taking the blame for it all so when the media question me, my answer
was simple and I spoke the truth as I always did.

“This is
on me just as much is it’s on our team. I’m not going to give you any excuses
and I take full responsibility for what happened.” I searched their faces to
see if they believed me but all I got was blank stares.

“So you
cheated?” The reporter asked with a cocky edge. “Maybe that explains the
seventeen championships you’ve won. Cheating?”

Just like
that the lightness of the conversation vanished and I knew I was being backed
into a corner with no way out. Even still, I hadn’t lost that spark of defiance
that made me who I was. No way were they going backdoor me on this one.

Kyle looked
up at me surprised and maybe even a little skeptical at what my response would
be. If I had said that Kyle was trying to gain us some speed by shaving down
the fenders a fraction of an inch than yes, we would have been in some hot
water but you have to understand that every team cuts corners like that. It’s
all about whom crosses over into the gray line too much.

Kyle
crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the pit box. You could see the
tension of the day embedded in his shoulders. He glanced at me once more before
I spoke and I caught on to the loophole. His eyes gave him away every time but
maybe it was that we’d been working together for so long. We had the fact that
they didn’t put the claw on the car before. Had they done that, they would have
known the car wasn’t cleared prior to race day. Though this meant nothing
today, it would for our appeal and Kyle knew that.

“Every
team out there pushes the boundaries,” I said looking from Kyle to the media.
Each reporter in front of me listened closely all hanging their recorders in my
face, “it doesn’t matter what sport you’re in, people push until they can’t
push anymore. You can look at any sport out there right now whether it’s
racing, football, baseball, even hockey; they all push to gain the edge. That’s
all it is.”

I’m not
going to sit here and say that cheating is okay because it’s not but when you
are allowed such a small window to make adjustments you find yourself searching
for anything you can. Hell I used to race with guys who would replace their
roll cage with exhaust tubing to make the car lighter during the race, Was it
safe?

No, fuck
no. If they would have wrecked it could have easily killed them. Nevertheless,
they got their cars lighter for the main events and sometimes pulled off a
much-needed win. It’s that line again. What would you do to be the best in a
sport that is highly competitive? Some sacrificed safety for the win.

Back at
the hauler for the team meeting, I stretched my legs out trying to get the
blood flowing again. The hauler came alive as the team made their way inside
for the meeting.

“All right
boys,” Kyle’s voice rose above commanding attention within the group. “We’ve
got a lot to discuss here so let’s get to it.”

Kyle went
over the fines and the important points that were discussed at the drivers
meeting earlier. Usually, this aspect of the race the over the wall guys needed
to know, things Aiden might need to be aware of as the spotter or maybe even
things I lost interest in. It happens. The purpose of the meeting was not only
to go over race day and talk about pit windows, pit stops and various
strategies but also to get us motivated for five hundred miles. It’s not easy
to get ready for these races and tends to leave most of us on edge at times.
Just like any sports team, this was almost like a pep rally for us a time for
us to come together.

When I got
back to the motor coach to grab some lunch, I felt relieved when Sway got there
with Arie and Casten. Though Casten only came for the girls, Arie could care
less about being here; it was nice to have my family with me.

After Sway
had made me some lunch, I grabbed my bag to get ready when I noticed my
brothers latest prank.

When he
stepped inside looking for food, I gave him a piece of my mind. “You are damn
near forty-five. Why do you keep doing this shit?”

He
shrugged taking a bite of his sandwich. Sway smiled behind him knowing where
this was going when she saw the glitter sparkling in the air. “Because
...
” Spencer took another bite contemplating his
response, “
...
it pisses you off.”

Weekly
that shit head dumped glitter in my helmet because I hated anything on my skin.
Did you ever try to get glitter off your skin after you’ve been sweating?

It’s
useless and takes weeks. For this reason, Spencer bombed my helmet at least
once a year. Apparently, he was starting early this year. Tossing my usual
helmet aside, I reached for my spare when I noticed he did the same thing to
that one too.

His pranks
for Daytona didn’t end there. He also decided to have the locks in my motor
coach replaced so that when I was trying to escape a few pit lizards I couldn’t
get inside.

I would be
having some words with him for sure. This wasn’t the first time he had replaced
the locks either but the first with this motor coach. Last year after Spencer
set the microwave on fire, I decided to get a new one. Since I started racing
in the cup series, this was my fourth motor coach. All of them had to be
replaced due to something Spencer had done to it.

Spencer
left and I decided I was going to relieve my frustrations by some align boring
with my wife. She caught on quickly when my hands crept up her shirt and
unfastened her bra. Walking backward down the short hallway in the motor coach,
she smiled but said nothing and one finger beckoned me.

I was sure
she had no idea the pent up frustration I had. Pushing her against the door, my
mouth found the skin I had been missing. Fisting her hair in my hands, her neck
arched giving way to pleasure. She loved that shit.

“I missed
you.” My hips pressed forward into hers searching for any type of friction I
could find. My head fell forward at the sensation the surged through me.

“I was
only gone a week,” she breathed against my neck and then closed her lips to
press a kiss against my skin.

“I still
missed you, a lot.”

“Then show
me champ.”

Trapping
her against the door, I pulled back to look at her cradling her face between my
hands. “I plan to.”

Sway
reached inside my jeans, her breath blew past my ear, “Oh god,” her hand curled
around my camshaft, my hips bucked forward on their own “
...
you really did miss me.”

She
withdrew her hand and pushed against my shoulders. “Fuck honey,” I growled,
eyes darkening and I reached for her again, “don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing.”
She smiled that smile that let me know what she had planned wasn’t teasing at
all. Dropping to her knees before me, her hands worked my jeans past my hips.
“I’m just getting started.”

Fuck
yeah.

Nothing
was better than some micro polishing from my wife.

Watching
in the mirror to the side was enough to send me over the edge quickly. Sway had
a way with micro polishing. This is what we, as in my wife and I, called a
blowjob. If you think about it, micro polishing is a process that involves polishing
the cam to improve mileage, durability and performance. Knowing the process,
it’s hard not to associate it with a blowjob but
...
oh
fuck, who cares?

Sway’s
motions took on a new determination and I lost that train of thought. Who cares
how it compares. It just does. My mind gave way and desires became my only
thoughts.

Eventually
the tension of the day subsided and the sensations rose to the surface. Sway
knew my reactions when I was close and wrapped her hands around my thighs to
take me into her mouth farther. I lost it completely.

She looked
up at me with flushed cheeks and cherry red lips. “Now, win for me.”