Page 8 of The Player Penalty
“Are you looking forward to Sunday?”
“Wow, Chris. You’re going for the tough questions today.”
“Is that concern we hear?” Chris Williamson is part of NASCAR’s media team putting together a short podcast series for the playoffs.
“It’s racing, and even the worst racing is a good time. This race will tell us who’s going into the round of 8. I intend to be there.”
“You sound confident.”
Extremely confident. “We have a great car, and our crew is on point. It’s difficult to imagine a better place for us.”
The Cup championship would be incredible, but even the final four is an accomplishment. My contract negotiation is next season, and I want more racing. Both desires are complicated with a boss who doesn’t like me and is also my competitor.
“Okay. Five questions. You ready for them?”
“Shoot.”
“Who would win in a fight? You or Boone?”
Me. I sacrificed my family for my ride. That’s the worst sort of dirty fighting. “Tough one, but I’ll give it to Boone. He’s aggressive and one of the most disciplined drivers on the track.”
“Plans between the season?”
The fucking holidays are the worst time of the year. I spent Thanksgiving last year eating Chinese and watching old war movies. “We’ll start with a long nap and a trip somewhere warm.”
“Favorite post-race meal?”
Alcohol. “I’m not that interesting. A turkey or ham sandwich. Something easy.”
“Will anyone special be trackside with you this weekend?”
My family dug my grave and danced over it. Julian Murphy Senior is sitting by his phone right now, waiting for the day I beg his forgiveness. No one has ever cheered me on. No one fucking cares if I come in first or last. “It’s a sold-out race, and will be an exciting crowd for sure.”
“Well, we here on theRacing Replaywish you luck at Charlotte this weekend.”
I sit in the audio booth after the interview ends. Chris’s questions are the same for every driver and not aimed at me. They’re meant to be light-hearted and fun to generate fan enthusiasm.
That doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off. Dad’s ghost sits next to me in every race.
∞∞∞
“You’re still here.” I release a breath and let my shoulders relax. The afternoon schedule puts me in the sim room, and here I am in a neglected workroom. “Your afternoon class starts soon, right?”
“I leave in an hour.”
Lily’s hair is in matching loose braids again. She’s worn them every day since I complimented the style last week. When I first commented, her stricken expression relaxed afterward, but her embarrassment was still apparent. Lily spent the rest of the conversation pulling on her hair, only stopping when she sensed I noticed.
I called the style flattering, and it was, but the word in my head was fresh. I wasn’t comparing her to a piece of fruit orcalling her young. Lily is trying to break a habit, and she trusted me enough to do it in my presence.
When we met over a year ago, her messy hair hid a heart-shaped face with cheekbones that blended into a perfectly tapered chin. It also meant I missed her chocolate brown eyes.
If I’d been a dash more patient and considered her as an actual person, our friendship would have started way back then. Of course, that would require me to be someone I’m not.
“Hang out with me until it’s time to go,” I say.
“I’m supposed to work on this project.”
Lily finds the task overwhelming, and her lack of interest makes the problem worse. I can fix that. “Not anymore.”
