Page 10 of The Player Penalty
“Sorry for being late.” Jake Knowles runs in, wiping at his forehead and neck. “Our new sponsor would not stop talking, and I couldn’t figure out how to end it.” With naturally sun-bleached hair, Jake looks like he just stepped out of the ocean.Ever since marrying Sarah Rivers at the local courthouse, he’s become a regular presence. “Hey, Bro. Great to see you again.”
He leans in to give Boone a friendly side hug. Boone Rivers looks like he’d rather run the entire race without a restraining device or a firesuit. The two are related through marriage, and I enjoy witnessing Jake making Boone uncomfortable. The fucking highlight of my day.
“This will be short. We’re talking strategy,” Boone starts.
Rivers Motorsportsstill fields two competitors. “Why is he here?” I indicate Jake. “Not that I mind, but he gives off serious sleeping with the enemy vibes.”
“Nice,” Jake says. There’s not even a hint of offense. The man is all sunshine and happiness, a great contrast to Boone Rivers, who is made from the black ooze seeping up from the deepest parts of hell. “I’m the only one on my team still in the playoffs. Plus, one of them is a prick, so considering our partnership, I’d rather hang out with the cool kids.”
Jake’s old team, kind of like my last one, is ceasing business. He managed to do it without cheating, so he had that in his favor. “Fair enough,” I say.
Boone clears his throat. “If we’re done with that. This race determines who goes to the next round. It’s down to eight next, which means a third of the drivers are getting cut.”
I know what this means. If one of us can’t win, help out another. Share the lap leads, giving a teammate a bump, if that’s all that can be done. Help with a block. Boone isn’t saying the other important part: I’m lowest in points and, between the three of us, closest to the cut line.
“I’m all in. Whatever can be done, you know I’m here for it.” That includes not making it to the next round.
∞∞∞
Charlotte Motor Speedway
“There you go.” I keep straight and give a nice shove to the 29’s rear bumper.
The push gives Boone a needed jolt, and he overtakes the 48 for the lead. With ten laps to go, it might be enough. Either way, I’m trapped in a three-wide with another one behind me, which means he is on his own.
“Where’s the 24?” I ask.
“Mid-pack. Three rows back, fighting a McAllister.”
Jake will need to win that battle on his own. “I’m breaking out of this mess.” Boone is easily a half-second in front, and his lead is probably growing.
The three of us played off each other the entire race, and it’s gone well. Jake took the first stage, and Boone was on his way to a guaranteed spot in the next round. As for me? I’m glad you asked.
“Passing on this track is fucking shit,” I say and pull ahead, looking for my opening. “Moving into the lower groove. Let’s see-”
My car spins and angles towards the wall. I slam and spin again.
“Julian? You okay? Give us a status.” My ears ring, and I don’t recognize the voice.
“I’m here. It’s good. I think a tire blew.” It’s a best guess; I’m not even sure.
The yellow flag goes out, and my race day ends, and likely, my chance in the playoffs.
∞∞∞
I’m ready to go home. My favorite thing about Charlotte is bringing my car instead of waiting for a scheduled flight. A quick meal and a change of clothes, and then I’m fucking gone.
“Well, hey there, handsome.”
I blink at the woman leaning against my trailer’s door. How did she get back here? Also, what was her name?
“Samantha.” Please let that be it. Her eyes brighten, and I relax. “Aren’t you cold?”
She glances down at her short jean skirt and sleeveless white blouse. “I’m here so you can warm me up.”
Her offer is tempting. Samantha attends two or three races every year, mainly for the partying. I also need to be home for the post-race meeting in the morning, so that provides a ready excuse once the fun is over. “Come on in.” I nod towards the trailer’s door. Her eyes narrow, and I hear the terseness in my voice. “It’s always good to see you again.”
My phone dings and I ignore it.
