One For The Road - Chapter 32: Chapter 32

It wasn't really a surprise that Mr. Roger Truscott was at the race and standing by Griffin's crew. It was his car, for God's sake. But it definitely was a surprise to see sportswriter Daniel Henderson there with him, especially since they both didn't like me.
Last time I checked, this wasn't a fucking baseball game.
This gentleman was a little sneakier than I originally thought. I thought he was the type that was okay with no as an answer, but clearly, that was about as far away from the truth as I was from emotional stability.
I came to watch Griffin, so I didn't want to leave my spot just to humor those assholes. It sucked when winning was unobtainable, and even though I was pretty sure Griffin didn't understand that struggle quite like I did, he was the only person I could stand to win.
Plus, it was way too loud to have a conversation. And I was very loud.
Griffin's spotter ran through a series of directions over the radio, and I glanced over to the screens that the crew chief studied. One of them followed the regular broadcast, but the others were focused only on Griffin's car.
Studying others was one of the ways I got to the top, but it was weird that I wasn't actually doing anything myself. I could definitely learn a few things from Griffin, but I had tried and failed before. He had his style, and I had mine.
I was sure that Truscott and Daniel weren't expecting me at the race, but there was no way that they couldn't have seen me. I glanced up at the cars as they drove by, back down to the screen, then over to the two of them.
Sorry, Griffin. I needed to talk to them. It would have been weird to see Daniel by himself, but with Truscott? It simply couldn't be a real, innocent thing.
Before I could stand up to have a chat with them, someone came up too far onto the race track and the back quarter panel of the sixty-six.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Griffin yelled into the radio as he straightened the car back out. "She's a fucking idiot. We're on the same fucking team."
The green flag had practically just dropped, and Elizabeth already ran into Griffin? Their meeting with Truscott would be fun. Smoke came out from the back tire of his car, and I grimaced. Unlucky shit happened in racing, but everyone was supposed to do everything they could to keep from hitting their teammates, whether they liked them or not.
"It's still early, bud. You can't get upset about it. Still plenty of time to recover," his crew chief reminded him. For me, my crew chief was there to make the tough decisions and play psychologist, and it looked like Griffin had a similar thing with his.
"God, I miss Kate. She could actually fucking drive a car," Griffin continued, and I smiled. Of course, that didn't fix anything for either one of us, but it warmed my heart even though it was already kind of hot outside.
"It looks like you've got a tire rub, so if you feel like it's gonna go down, you gotta pit. If you think you can handle it, then do that. It'll throw off the entire pit strategy if you have to pit so early," his crew chief said.
There was still smoke coming from the tire, and although I didn't know what it felt like inside the car, it sure as hell didn't look good from the outside.
"We can't pit. We'll be fucked," Griffin said.
Decision made.
I probably would have gotten new tires since there was still plenty of laps to dig myself out of the hole, but he won seven races and I won none (but I had an All-Star win and he didn't, so it was really a tie in my book).
"Alright. I'll let you know what it looks like on the outside, but it's your call," his spotter said.
A few laps went by, but the smoke didn't stop. It wasn't going to just go away, but Griffin was determined to keep himself from going a lap or two down. There was still the entire race left, but it was hard to be rational with the fumes and heat in the car.
He really needed to pit, but I couldn't tell him that. All I could do was listen to him talk shit about Elizabeth (which was incredibly satisfying too, of course).
He continued down the straightaway between turns one and two, and the trail of smoke followed the car straight into the wall. He bounced right off of it, but the side was torn up from the Goodyear tire exploding, and the other side was smashed flat.
I grimaced. Technology was better than ever, but no matter how many times we ran into the wall, it never got any easier.
"You good, bud?" his crew chief asked.
Griffin let out a loud sigh. "I'm gonna kill the blonde and then myself."
I chuckled. "Keep it classy, Gallagher."
With his car as fucked up as it was, he was done for the day, and he would have to go through the medical protocol to make sure he wasn't secretly dying.
I stood up while I had my chance to talk to Danny Boy and Truscott. Down the ladder, and over to the two of them. Just looking at them pissed me off.
"Miss Moore, it's nice to see you," Truscott said as I approached.
"No, it's not. What's this guy doing here?" I gestured to Daniel Henderson, and he gave me a smile.
"It's been a while, Katie. How have you been?" he asked.
"Shut up. I just want to know what the hell's going on."
"Is there any reason you're here?" Truscott asked. "Are you two actually dating now?"
"Me and Griffin?" I laughed. "I wish. Seriously though, I know this Henderson dude, so you better start explaining why he's here."
"Of course. This is my nephew, Daniel, and he's working on a piece to illustrate the female experience in racing," Truscott said.
"Nephew? I didn't know you had any family at all," I said. "And he seems awfully male to do a decent job at telling my story."
"Well, you weren't interested, so I'm working with Elizabeth Tonkin now. I'm sure you're familiar with her," Daniel said.
"Unfortunately, yes." I took in a breath. "I thought you were out to make me look like a whiny bitch."
He shook his head. "I'm just here to get the important sports news out there. You know, my uncle is the only one with the balls to sign women—"
"And subsequently fire them because he can't control them," I interrupted.
"You know that's not why your contract was terminated. It's not my fault you have addiction issues. I seriously hope you're considering rehab for your disease," Truscott said.
"The only thing I'm addicted to is this shit show. Don't know why, but there's something about the misery that feels damn good sometimes."
That cleared that up, then. I couldn't really see any resemblance between the two, but if Daniel wasn't my problem anymore, I wasn't going to be upset about it. The only thing was that I felt a little bad for Elizabeth. But not too bad. She stole my job and took Griffin out of the race, after all.
When we finally arrived back in London, Ontario, the hole that we accidentally punched in the garage door was gone. Annie must have had it fixed while we were at our tournament.
She came out the front door, waved, then clapped her hands together. "Welcome home guys. You would not believe how much shit I got done while you were gone."
I climbed out of the car and pointed at the garage door. "You had that fixed. It looks really nice."
She laughed. "I had a little fun with the all-star money for sure. And by fun, I mean that I did some much-needed work around here."
"Annie, you know damn well that money's for the robot," Josiah said.
"You don't need five-hundred thousand dollars for that. Would you rather live in a shithole?" Annie asked.
"I'd rather that you know your place and not overstep your boundaries," Josiah said.
Annie shook her head and turned back for the door. "I'm not gonna fucking argue over this. I'm sorry for trying to make sure you live somewhere nice."
"It looks great," I called after Annie, but she went inside anyway. I turned to Josiah. "I hope she snaps and leaves you one day. Maybe she would even stab you in the kidney with a knife. That'd be fun."
"Katie, stop," Drake said.
"Would you just let me dream?" I asked.
She deserved someone who was interested in everything she did. How fucking immature was it to only care about that stupid robot? I followed her footsteps through the front door to ask her to show me everything she had done.
It really couldn't have been more obvious that Annie had been taking care of Josiah for a long time without getting anything back. And I just couldn't understand why she did that.
"Hey, Annie," I said as I came through the door. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, which was scrubbed until it sparkled, but she once told me that she liked to go to the basement when she wanted a moment to herself. Unfortunately, both she and I weren't good at not overstepping our boundaries.
The entire house smelled like lavender, including the half-finished basement. Annie sat at the table right by the wine, where we had done my art therapy. She sat up at the sound of my steps, and she turned around.
"I could tell it was you by the way you walked. You're officially one of us now," she said.
I smiled. "You want to show me all the work you did while we were gone? It smells good in here, the garage door looks great, and I don't think there's a single germ left in the kitchen."
"Could I just talk to you for a second first?" she asked, and I nodded.
I had to tell her about what happened in Cleveland with Drake and me, but whatever she had to tell me, it was certainly more important than a stupid guy.
She took in a breath, but she didn't say anything. Instead, her eyes looked to the ground, and then back up to me. "You know when you just can't find the words to say what you're thinking? That's what's happening to me right now."
I nodded. "That's okay. Whenever you find them, I'll listen."
"No, no. I think I want to show you. It's a lot easier that way." She grabbed my wrist, and I ignored how ridiculously soft her hand was on my skin.
Drake and Josiah were already out in the garage, but instead of working on Sacrilege, they stared at the wall.
"I guess they already found it." She smiled, then pointed to the wall. "I got bored and bought a bunch of paint. Next thing I knew, I had a mural staring back at me."
Up on the wall, there was a painting of a woman only in different shades of red and pink, but in front of her, there were four black bars like she was in a jail cell.
Oh hell yes.
"Art therapy. The shit works," I muttered to myself.
"Why'd you waste your time on this? I mean, it looks nice, Annie, but why would you paint this?" Josiah asked.
Annie gave a little shrug. "I don't know. I got bored after resynching all of your clocks together for the eightieth time, and I just wanted to make something new."
"Well, it's a good painting. I guess it'll be nice to look at while we're working on Sacrilege," Josiah said, and he and Drake headed back inside the house.
"You don't have to explain anything else to me. I got it." I looked over at Annie, then back up at the wall. "This tells me a hell of a lot more than anything you've ever said to me."
"Oh, I didn't—"
I interrupted her. "You did. It's like the fucking Hotel California here. You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave."
"You think Josiah and Drake got it?" she asked, and I shook my head.
Neither one of us spoke for a moment, but the colors gave it all away. Sacrilege red, the same pink as her hair. It all was intentional, and she meant everything it said.
"I don't know, I guess I just felt like I could do whatever the hell I wanted for the first time in a long time," she said. "I even took your car to get it all fixed up so you can finally drive it."
My eyes widened. "You what?"
"Was I not supposed to?"
I was planning on doing that myself when I finally found the time to figure it all out.
Well, that sounded like something Annie would say.
"No, no. Thank you. I've been meaning to do that for a while," I said, and although it was kind of a lie, I didn't want her to feel bad. She had just let me into her mind and heart, and I wasn't going to ruin that. I couldn't.