Page 78 of Beneath the Blindfold

I was lost in my thoughts as I stared out the windshield, not seeing anything beyond the glass. Jamie had asked me a simple question, and it had given me my answer. Excitement skittered down my body, confirming I was making the right choice.

Me:I’d have regret. OMG, thank you! I’m going to do it.

He sent me a thumbs-up emoji.

Jamie:Cool. Don’t forget to mention me in your acceptance speech.

TWO

Jamie

-FOURTEEN MONTHS LATER-

At the start of the season, no one else noticed the mutual friction between me and my crew chief. Rob was conservative. Like, Old Testament conservative. The giant stick-up-his-ass only got worse as the races went by. He stayed quiet when I did well, but the last two had been a shitshow, and he was all out of patience with me at today’s practice.

As soon as I cut the engine, I yanked the earpiece out, happy to have Rob’s voice out of my head. While I undid my gloves, movement caught my attention.

For fuck’s sake.

Rob stormed toward the car, his face red. If I didn’t know him, I’d say he looked irate, but it turned out he always looked that way.

“What’s going on with you?” His tone was accusatory.

I did not want to talk to him right now. “Sorry. I slept like shit last night.”

He frowned at my language. He legitscowledat the cussword like I’d uttered it while kneeling at church. Everyone else in the pit swore like they’d hit a hammer on their thumb, and Rob never batted an eye. Only when I cussed, did he get angry. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his puritanical ass.

Yeah, I’d had a slow, messy run, but it hadn’t been entirely my fault. “The front’s loose,” I said.

“Well, it was too tight yesterday.” He put his hands on his hips and stood too close to the window, blocking my exit.

It was hot inside the car, and even with the cooling system in my suit, I was melting. I grabbed the A-pillar and hoisted myself up out of the seat, not caring when I put a shoulder into Rob’s chest. He needed to back off.

“Figure it out and get your head on right,” he said, “or we’re not gonna win a single race this year.”

“Yeah, I got it.” I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for the motivational speech.”

Rob’s statement was loaded with meaning. It was my second year driving for Randall Whitman, and the way things were shaping up, it might be my last. Rob had been with the crew for six years, and no one else seemed to have issues with him.

Maybe he just had it out for me.

Team chemistry was everything in this sport. If I couldn’t make it work, no way was Whitman, the team owner, going to choose me over Rob.

I needed a top-five finish like I needed air to breathe.

I ignored my irritation with my crew chief and tried to focus on work. “Let’s dial it halfway between yesterday and today.”

Rob nodded and looked off into the distance. The conversation was over.

Yet he stayed rooted to the track.Shit. I braced for the incoming comment when he sighed loudly. “I can’t wait till they put a new one up.”

I knew exactly what he was talking about but glanced up at the billboard anyway.

The track we practiced on wasn’t far from the freeway, and we could see one of the signs looming over it. Two months ago, it’d been advertising some new Frankenstein creation from Taco Bell.

Now the billboard washer.

Anna Douglas, photographed from her bare shoulders up, a blindfold clutched in her hand as she seductively bit down on the knuckle of her index finger. When the sign first went up, it took a moment to adjust to her blonde hair. She was really a brunette, but the lighter color looked natural on her. It looked good.

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