Page 74 of Throttle

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“Ms. Meyers, how have you been feeling since the accident in Ohio?” reporter number one asks.

“I’ve been feeling pretty good. Almost back to my old self,” I answer.

“You must have been thrilled with the finish in Nashville. How did you feel about it being the first race back?” This comes from reporter number two.

“I felt good. Very excited for Wadsworth Racing and SiriusXM for the finish. It was our best yet this season, and I look forward to trying to improve on it with these final races,” I reply.

Another reporter raises her hand. “Ms. Meyers, what do you have to say on the recent news allegations that your former crew chief sabotaged the car in Ohio?”

I steady myself. “No comment.”

The reporter is relentless. “Come on, Ms. Meyers, the public is dying to know your thoughts.”

“I released a statement last week, and I stand by that statement now. There isn’t much else to say on the matter.”

“Is it true that you and Mr. Matthews are in a relationship?” some reporter in the back calls out.

“I’m not sure what is being said, but I assure you that my relationship with Mr. Matthews is strictly professional,” I answer stoically.

“Is that why there are pictures of you hugging one another?” he relents.

“Again, I'm not sure what you are referencing. The team is a very close-knit group. Almost a second family, so I wouldn’t think twice about hugging any of them. If you’ll excuse me, I must get to another meeting.” I stand up and walk off the stage.

Elle meets me at the end with a very mad look on her face. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not answering questions about my relationship; they can pound sand,” I explain, grabbing a bottle of water and heading to the garage area.

“Haisley, you can’t just walk out of a Q&A.”

“I just did. Let INDY fine me, I don’t care. I told you that I was not dealing with any of the fucking hoopla about Bud and the accident.” I storm off leaving her somewhere halfway.

Instead of heading to the garage, I decide to hide out in the hauler. I grab a snack and settle in on the couch in the lounge area. I throw on the television and cue upLuciferon Netflix. I’m still trying to watch my way through all six seasons, only currently on season two. I just love the one-liners the character has.

I’m about three episodes in when Saint barrels into the hauler. “There you fucking are! We’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve been here,” I reply dryly.

“Obviously. Elle and I texted you about five times each. You have qualifying in fifteen minutes.” Saint runs a hand though his hair. I notice that he does that when he’s frustrated or agitated.

“Well, we still have fourteen minutes to get to the car,” I snap back, turning off the television and grabbing my phone. “Oh, look, there they are.”

Saint stops me. “What is going on with you, Haisley?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. Now can we please go race?” I snark back again, dipping under his arm that he placed across the small walking area.

“We are going to talk about your Q&A later as well,” he remarks as I exit the hauler. Great, another thing to deal with when I’m really not in the mood to answer to anyone.

I walk straight to the car and grab my helmet from Jeff, who is holding it for some weird reason. Shit, I forgot that everyone got moved around. Neil to car chief, Mac to lead mechanic, and more crewmen to different areas.

I jump into the car and secure my harness. Mac tightens it and gives me the thumbs up. I repeat the gesture and rev up the engine.

“Haisley, you are next,” Saint informs me as I get ready to pull out onto the track. World Wide is an oval track, so there will be more use of the weight shifters as I enter into the corners. Practice was mediocre, but I also wasn’t focused on it.

I pull the car onto the track and take the first lap to get up to speed. I push the car and myself the following two laps, ignoring the chatter in the radio. After the qualifying lap was completed, I pull the car back into pit road and kill the engine. I unbuckle, remove my helmet, and leave the area without speaking to anyone.

My head hurts, and I need to lay down. I walk back to the RV with my head down, hoping to shield the sun. I’m praying that Saint and Elle will at least give me an hour of peace and quiet to rest. I’ve been experiencing headaches again these past few days. I’m almost certain they are related to the additional stress, not to the concussion.

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