Page 52 of Rear View
And definitely that I was a dick.
I’d have used Alec’s phone to call, but, like an idiot, I’d programmed her number instead of memorizing it. Between prep, press junkets and training, I hadn’t had two seconds to grab a new device.
The engine revved and moonlight caught on the hood as I veered around the last turn of the course, kicking up snow from the closed road like a motherfucker. The Recce car was decent, ’cause that’s all it needed to be. It had one job: get us around the track for recon. The race handlers set the max scouting speed at 70 kph, and I held that line while Alec took his pace notes, marking the sharpness and length of every curve. The problematicsections and obstacles. All of it. We were on our second, and final, permitted pass. Learning everything we could before the race started Saturday.
We’d studied the road book, but nothing compared to drivin’ it ourselves. Each team had their own language. Across the sport, the gist was the same, but the nuances mattered. Nuance meant time. And time meant everything when you raced the clock.
Alec’s stare was focused. “Four right into a two long,” he said to himself, then jotted it onto the page.
We crossed the finish and circled back, heading for the Parc Ferme, where the rally cars were kept overnight, and where our crew waited.
“How’re you feeling about this one?” Alec asked.
“Good.” The route was well-groomed; a few dicey corners, but I’d driven worse. “Real good.”
He grinned. “Me too.” Shoving my shoulder, he said, “Sheila’s after me to book in for our tux fittings.”
My brows dropped and I veered us around a concrete barrier. “Kinda early, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, but it’s important to her. She’s stressed enough about everything, so I’ll get it done.”
One of the grounds crew waved us through. I eased on the brake, tires crunching over the snow. “Sean coming?”
He propped an elbow onto his window ledge. “Yeah.” He laughed. “He’s real put out that you’re best man. Keeps threatening to hack the shop’s system when we’re done and make our suits toddler-sized.”
I barked a laugh as I pulled us into the bay. Too bad he wasn’t that eager when Alec and I tried to pay him to break into our high school’s system and fix our grades.
We climbed out, pulled off our helmets and tossed them onto our seats. I closed in on Alec’s side, ’causewe’d finally gotten a break and I had an idea…one I hoped to fuck worked.
“I need your phone,” I told him.
He unlocked it and tossed it my way. “You find her number?”
“No. Gonna try somethin’ else.” I scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck. Reaching her online was out, but maybe, if I was lucky, I could get Miles.
Bringing up Instagram, I logged Alec out, and signed myself in. What the shit? I was up at least ten thousand followers. Notifications showed I’d been tagged in a bunch of WRC race videos, which, killer as it was, I’d need to check later. I had someone important to reach.
Searching Miles’s name, it brought up a few potential options. The second one down was a guy in a Sharks jersey.
Boom!Got him.
I clicked follow, then fired off a message. I just hoped he actually checked them.
From there, I dialed Ma, ’cause I had no clue if Castillo’d called with an update on my old man’s parole, and I needed to know she was good.
“Hello?” she said, her voice tight.
“Hey, Ma. It’s me.”
“Xavier?” A breeze muffled her end of the line. “Where’s your phone? Are you okay?”
“I’m good. Sorry. Phone’s gone. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
She loosed a heavy exhale. “Well, I’m glad you called. I was starting to worry.” She cleared her throat. “Are you ready for your race tomorrow?”
My nod was sharp. “I’m ready.”
“I wish I could be there.”
