Page 58 of The Player Penalty
“Hey, what are you doing in that place?” The warmth in his voice relaxes me.
“It was supposed to help me work. It didn’t. Are you in Texas?”
“Arrived at the track an hour ago. The race starts soon. Are you watching?”
“Do I have to?” The school paper is more exciting.
He chuckles. “Not if you agree to watch me race tomorrow.”
“Deal. How was Talladega?”
Julian’s bored sigh answers the question. “The tire people put on tires and tell us drivers to go for a little drive. Then we come back and say it has a good grip or feels soft or whatever. Then it gets ignored, and we get surprised. Officially, quick fall off. You want to know the good part?”
“What?”
He makes a shushing sound into the phone. “Hold on, I need to make sure I’m not overheard. It gives me extra time at the track and a heads-up on tire wear. Boone Rivers won the past two years, and I’m going to beat him.”
“Scary Boone Rivers deserves to lose.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I’ll tell you what. Go home and get one good paragraph done on your paper. Do that, and we’ll celebrate with you kicking my ass at a game of your choice.”
“How did you know that’s why I called?”
“Because I know you.”
Something warm blooms in my stomach and spreads. “One good paragraph. I’ll be busy writing all weekend.”
“Go to my trailer when you arrive tomorrow, and I’ll help. You’ll get it finished. Oh, and one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Send me your flight information so I can change it. You need to be here earlier.”
I begin typing once the call ends. It’s only one paragraph.
∞∞∞
Texas Motor Speedway
“Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg.”
“I’m not an actor.” Julian laughs anyway before pulling on his helmet and climbing through the 33 car’s window.
I wave him off, even knowing he can’t see it.
“He hopes for a top-ten starting position tomorrow,” I say to my Dad, who stands beside me. I rest my hands on the wall by Julian’s pit box. He asked me to watch him race, which doesn’t include an endless series of qualifying runs. Plus, there’s a cursed paper waiting for me. “I’ll see you tonight, Dad.”
“Honey, wait.” Pete Webb is using that calm tone I used to dread. It’s rarer nowadays, but it still slips out occasionally. He uses it to explain truths to his anxious, inattentive, insecure daughter.
I pull a lock of hair out of my bun and start twiddling. He notices but, thankfully, refrains from my comment.
“Julian Murphy is a charming man,” Dad starts. I prefer a lecture over my hair. “Can I ask what’s between the two of you?”
“We’re friends, nothing else. If that changes, you know I will tell you. It won’t change.”
All of this is true. Despite our arrangement, Julian doesn’t want any long-term relationship. It took Sarah putting him on the spot for him even to consider inviting me over, after all. Besides, my lack of experience doesn’t make me foolish. Julian might love me a little, but he’ll never be in love.
