One For The Road - Chapter 54: Chapter 54

With the headache beginning to go away, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out why Roger Truscott would ask his nephew to ask me to meet with him over a perhaps temporary vacancy in his team. He fired me for calling it like it was, and he had a sudden change of heart? No way in hell.
And even if he did, I didn't. I couldn't put myself through that again, especially since I already had a new contract with Team Moretti on the way. There were still details to be worked out, but I wasn't going to work and put my life on the line for basically free even if I was a risky candidate.
Until Griffin got back from wherever he went, I was on my own with Penny, but she was probably asleep upstairs in her room. Griffin seriously spoiled the hell out of that dog, but I would too. She was cute and sweet and better than most people.
Before I could go and check on her, my phone rang.
Moretti?
Interesting.
I answered it. "Hello?"
"Hello, Katie. It's Andre Moretti. I don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. You're not looking at any other teams at the moment, are you?" Moretti asked.
I hesitated. "Not really, but RTR is up my ass again for no good reason. Elizabeth Tonkin's out for the weekend, and Truscott wanted me to replace her."
"That actually works out perfectly. There are a few holdups in terms of money and term that we're currently working out, but if you show us something, we'll get this contract finalized as soon as possible."
"What?"
"Your agent's a tough nut to crack, but if you can prove that you're worth what he's asking, we can get it done. I really would like to add you to the team, Katie. You're very talented, and we can work on the few things you lack."
"One, I already did that at the All-Star Race, and two, that's not going to—"
Moretti cut me off. "I really need to go, but we can talk about the results after the race. I'm rooting for you."
Call ended.
"What the fuck?" I muttered to myself. "What do I lack? A top-five finish at a superspeedway?"
He was in for one hell of a surprise when I wasn't the one driving the ninety-five on Sunday.
I had already made my mind up. I told myself that I was willing to do whatever it took to make it all the way back around the track to the start-finish line for a restart back to the life I knew and loved: racing. But was that true?
Moretti was expecting one last start from me before we could finally ink a contract, but I told Henderson and Truscott to fuck off. And unless I went back to them to change my mind, that race wasn't going to happen.
I took in a breath. I fucked up.
There was no way I could ask either one of them to talk it through and put me in the car, not after all the bullshit they put me through. I tried to work with Danny Henderson, but his loyalty was to his uncle, and Truscott's loyalty was to himself.
I was the same way, but at least I wasn't a dick about it.
My breathing sped up and the walls squished my insides more than usual. What the hell did all of this mean? Moretti wanted to see one more show before he signed me, and I couldn't put myself through RTR again.
Was it over then? Was the All-Star Race my last one?
I had to get away. What the hell was I supposed to do? Griffin would be pissed when he found out that Moretti promised himself something I wasn't willing to give. Working with Truscott one last time wasn't a part of my idea of whatever it took, and if that cost me my career, then I didn't want it anyway.
Los Angeles with Drake and Josiah seemed better than dealing with any of that.
LA. That was it. I told Daniel that was where I was going, and that was the perfect escape. I had a prior commitment, it wasn't my fault, and it was gonna be fucking televised, plus I was helping out a friend.
I ran up the stairs to pack as little stuff as I needed—the fire suit Annie made me, toiletries, my makeup bag, and a couple more outfits.
I didn't have much with me the first time around with Team Sacrilege besides a shit ton of determination and more personality than they could handle, and a couple weeks at the most in LA didn't call for anything more than that.
My life wasn't over. In fact, this was just another goddamn restart, and sometimes, that was where the race was won or lost.
But I had to keep my story straight: it was always my plan to drive Sacrilege. The team needed me and my name to enter, and I wanted to. It wasn't my fault that the dates were lined up perfectly.
That was the story, and it was true from that point on.
With my bag in my arms, I headed back down to the kitchen with a pen and paper.
Griffin,
I love you, but I have to go right now. I'm sorry. Call me and I'll explain.
Just as I finished scribbling my note, the front door swung open and Griffin walked in.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
It would have been so much easier if I snuck away just moments before. I shook my head. Fuck.
His eyes shifted from me to the bag on the kitchen table. "What the fuck is that?"
"I just need you to trust me. I have to go. That's the only way this is going to work out," I said.
"What's going to work out?" He looked back at me. "Katie, what the fuck are you doing?"
I held up my hand. "Don't freak out. I love you, but I made up my mind too quickly for once in my goddamn life and maybe fucked up everything, but I love you. I just have to go to LA to fight robots."
"What are you talking about?"
I smiled. "Did I mention I love you?"
He took in a breath. "I heard that. Now slow the fuck down and tell me what you're doing before I get mad."
"So you know how Elizabeth is pr—not racing this weekend?"
"Sure."
"Truscott's nephew, who I unfortunately met in Canada, asked me if I wanted to meet with Truscott about it. And I'm sure you know what that means."
"So drive the car, then. Isn't that a good thing? It'll prove to Moretti that you're reasonable and still good."
"That's the thing. I told Daniel and Truscott that I wasn't gonna do it and go to LA instead, but Moretti thinks I'm driving, so I'm pretty sure this means that I'm not gonna get a contract unless I flip the blame back on Truscott by driving Sacrilege one last tournament."
Griffin hesitated. "Goddammit, Katie."
"Also I love you." I smiled.
"I know that, dumbass. I mean, what the hell are you thinking? Isn't this race exactly the chance you need?"
"Not with Truscott. I gave that team everything I had for a little more than two years, and he never thought of me as anything more than someone with a drinking problem who could get an okay finish most races. That's all."
"Can't you just forget about that for one goddamn day for the sake of the big picture?"
I shook my head. "I can put up with a lot, but I don't think I can stomach one more race with him. Hell, when he fired me, I decided it was more tolerable to drive a robot than stick around here where I knew he'd always hold it over my head that he won and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do about it."
Griffin hesitated. "So I can't change your mind. That's what you're telling me."
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Have fun at Kansas, okay?"
He shook his head. "I was really looking forward to racing with you again. It's been horribly lonely around the garage without you. But if I can't change your mind, then I guess we're both going to have to get used to this new normal."
"Were you not listening to me? I have this shit completely under control. I know exactly how I have to spin this so we get back to the way it used to be," I said.
It wouldn't be completely the same, but that didn't matter. We would no longer be teammates, but that didn't mean much except we couldn't wreck each other. We would never do that anyway.
We would also be in Charlotte, North Carolina. It wouldn't be nearly as hot and humid as Baton Rouge, but the Ohio in me and the Missouri in him didn't mind.
I reached out and rested my hand on his arm. "I just need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing."
He let out a breath. "I'm probably going to die at thirty-five because of you, you know that? I hate the way I can't get mad at you. It would save me so much fucking stress."
"You don't have to stress out over me. I'll be fine. And I really do love you."
"I love you too. You just have a grand total of three brain cells that sometimes get fixated on the wrong things," he said and pulled me in close for a hug.
That was what I missed while I was in Canada. Griffin was the only person in the world who didn't even have to try to talk me down from a ledge, and even though he wasn't always happy with me, we could at least talk it out.
How fucking stupid was I? Drake was a good guy, but I wanted him to be another Griffin for me, and that wasn't him.
"Everything is going to be fine. I'm being a good teammate to Team Sacrilege, which I'm pretty sure is a big complaint against me. I'm proving that wrong. I know exactly what I'm doing," I said.
"That thought is a little unsettling since you never know what you're doing." He chuckled.
I smiled. "Aren't you just fucking hilarious?"
"And in the future, you're not going to run away without any sort of explanation to my face. If this is gonna work, I need to know what kind of shit you're getting yourself into. Okay?"
I bit my lip. It was a little shitty of me to try to get away without saying anything to him. "I got it. I'm sorry."
"All right." He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "You're sure this is the best way to go about getting your contract?"
"Probably. I haven't come up with a better idea yet, and it's been about half an hour."
He laughed. "That's more like you. I just—I just hate how there isn't anything I can do about any of this. The past six months have been like that, and it sucks."
"I don't need you to do anything besides stand there and look hot. It makes me look better. Moretti told me that," I said.
"He didn't say that."
"Well, I told him we're kind of together now, and he seemed to like that. I think it's because you're hot."
"Yeah, that's the only thing I have to offer. Nothing else."
I smiled and rolled my eyes. "You know I don't think that. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Well, thanks."
He never seemed to believe me when I said shit like that, but it was true.
"So do you guys have any chance of winning?" he asked.
I laughed and shook my head. "Not at all, but it's gonna be fun anyway."
When I needed to escape to a big city, I ran for Las Vegas or Chicago or Houston. Los Angeles was a little too celeb for me, and although I was technically a part of that club, the only good thing about it was the parties.
But this wasn't an escape this time. It was exactly where I needed to be.
The tournament was set to begin in a few days, and Drake and I picked a place to meet for lunch before we joined forces again.
He was right about me but for all the wrong reasons. I always told myself that I wanted to prove myself by beating some of the best, but what I really needed was to prove that I was loyal, a team player, and hungry to win.
Moretti knew damn well I could drive. That wasn't a secret. But according to literally everyone, my main problem was that there was a lot more going on behind the scenes than they wanted. Moretti was testing something else like that by expecting me to drive for RTR again.
Same result, different circumstances. We both won this way.
I headed into the restaurant where Drake and I had agreed upon, which was a small place tucked away out of the view of the street. The inside was decorated with autographs and photos of actors, singers, dancers, and athletes, and I figured they'd want to add me to the collection.
If the food was good, maybe.
"Katie," Drake smiled from a table. "It's good to see you again. I knew I would."
I smiled back. "Good to see you too."
If I could get him talking about Annie, hopefully he wouldn't ask me any questions about what drove me there to LA. All he needed to know was that I was there to fuck shit up.