One For The Road - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

I climbed out of my car and into the grass after I undid the safety harnesses and the smoke cleared up into the sky. The hood of the car stood practically upright to block my windshield, and the rest of the front was caved in to match.
Bright flashing lights lit up the crash site, and there were at least ten other cars piled up with Tyler's and mine. At least ten other cars got fucked out of a better finish that they deserved.
Of course, I was supposed to climb into one of the ambulances, so they could take me to the infield care center to make sure I wasn't actually dying, but I had other things that needed taken care of before I went through that protocol.
"You got your wish, honey. I wrecked," Tyler said as I approached his car. He still hadn't climbed out yet, and I wanted to be right there to punch him in the mouth as soon as he did.
I stood next to the window, where he had taken the netting down to signal to response crews that he was okay. Blood boiled in my veins, and I took in a shaky breath. "Why the fuck would you wreck me?"
"It ain't about you. I'd do it to anyone for a chance to win," Tyler replied.
"You're a pussy. A pussy who couldn't stand the fact that I was just about to finally win. You just can't let me be happy, can you?"
"Look, Katie, you better grow up and realize that everyone isn't out to discriminate against the woman. You whined about the goddamn drug tests, and we're all sick of hearing about you and your imaginary war." He sat up on the side and the car and swung his legs around. "If you want to be seen as just a driver, then shut up and drive."
"Take your helmet off," I said.
"What? You gonna fight me over this?"
I nodded.
I didn't deserve this. I deserved that win, and he stole it right from my fingertips because he was bitter. He stole it.
I bit my cheek as my throat swelled shut with emotion.
"You gonna cry?" Tyler asked.
I shook my head, but we both knew that was a lie.
I didn't even bother to cover my face as the first tear fell down and hit the track below me. "I'm done, Tyler. That was my last race for RTR. I got fired."
"What do you mean?"
"Roger Truscott is gonna terminate my contract. I'm done for the year, and unless someone else wants to sign me down the road, I'm done here all together."
"Miss Moore, we're going to need you to come with us," one of the medics said.
"Can he do that?" Tyler asked.
"It's shady as fuck, but until I figure out exactly what's happening, what can I do about it? Winning was my only shot at keeping my job. What am I supposed to do now?" I said.
I gave Tyler a moment to say something, anything, but not a single word came out of his mouth. Maybe he finally felt like a shitty person for wrecking me, but I didn't count on it.
I looked up to the scoreboard as I climbed into the ambulance. Although I could barely make out the numbers through my blurred vision, listed at first place was the number sixty-six.
At least Griffin won my last race.
Back in Baton Rouge, reporters shuffled into our conference room for the announcement of my termination.
I knew Mr. Truscott. I knew what he would say. NASCAR's golden girl is finished, it's all her fault, she's a nightmare to work with, and she accomplished nothing worth anyone's admiration or respect.
I didn't deserve any of that. I deserved a team that helped me win. I deserved an actual fucking chance and people who appreciated everything I did.
But this wasn't the worst-case scenario like I originally thought. I didn't have to work for someone who never respected me any longer. I was free.
RTR was a small racing team with even smaller rooms, and each person that filed in brought in a temperature increase with them. I sat up on a platform behind a table with a microphone, and Paul sat next to me. He was the only person to believe in me even while I was a hopeful looking to forge myself a path to the Cup Series, and he was the only one who could stand beside me now.
He was about twenty years older than me, and ever since I lost my parents, Paul filled that role in my life. He kept my mind on track during races, but he also kept me from driving myself crazy in real life too.
I glanced over at him for a moment. He fiddled with his wedding ring as he scanned the faces that entered the room. There weren't any more open chairs, so the new reporters stood along the back wall with their recording devices and notepads out and ready for action. This many people wanted to hear the announcement?
Paul and I had worked together my entire professional career. I was just an eighteen-year-old kid when he promised that we'd win together, and we did. We won a championship, but for some greedy people, that was too long ago and not for the right team.
"Paul," I said, and with the light chatter from everyone else, this conversation would be just about as private as we could get it in a time like this.
He looked up at me.
"I just wanted you to know that I'm grateful for our time together. I couldn't have asked for a better crew chief or a more understanding person," I said.
He smiled. "And I couldn't have asked for a harder worker or a more caring driver."
Roger Truscott entered the room, and every pair of eyes fell on him. He was the man in charge with something to say, and no one could afford to miss a single word that came from his holier-than-thou mouth.
I shook my head as he took his spot at the podium in the front of the room.
"Hello, everyone. I would like to thank you all for coming. I know it was a little bit last-minute, but sometimes, things just pop up out of nowhere, don't they?" Roger faked a laugh. "Now, it is with a sad, heavy heart that I announce that Katie Moore and Roger Truscott Racing will be mutually parting ways, effective immediately."
Cameras flashed, but I refused to look anywhere but out into the crowd of reporters.
"We would like to thank Katie for her time with RTR, but unfortunately, this contract cannot continue for the good of both the team and Miss Moore herself. I would like to wish her all the best moving forward, and I'd like to give her the floor now."
I swallowed and nodded. "This isn't it for me, ladies and gentlemen. You haven't seen the last of me. In fact, I'd like to call this the beginning of my new career, and to celebrate, I brought a cooler filled with beer. Thank you for always letting me voice my thoughts and never shutting me up. I'm sure not everyone here likes me personally, but I always felt welcome by the fans, media, my crew, and other drivers."
Mr. Truscott noticed that I left him off of that list. "What Katie does in her personal life doesn't matter to me, as long as it doesn't impact her work performance. The standards are no different for her than for any other hardworking American. Unfortunately, during the random drug testing, alcohol was found frequently in her urine, and she argued for hours about driving the Alcoholics Anonymous car, because she was afraid it would make her look like an addict. While it's not illegal, it is against team policy and her contract. This decision is for her own good, as well as the good of the team."
That could mean only one thing.
"I knew the drug tests weren't random. I knew it!" I slammed my fist on the table. "You wanted me off the team."
"That's not what he said, Katie," Paul whispered beside me.
"That's exactly what he just said if you fill in a little information. And I hope everyone enjoys the rest of the season without me, because when I get a new contract for a new team, you better believe that I'm gonna be the driver everyone has nightmares about. I will—" I thought for a second. "I'm glad I'm done here."
"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Roger asked.
I hesitated. "Also, free beer is canceled."
"We will not be taking questions at this time, but we do have a replacement lined up to drive the ninety-five car for the remainder of the season, Elizabeth Tonkin. She's a sweet girl out of a small Mississippi town, and I think she'll fit in very well with Roger Truscott Racing," Roger continued.
"Who?" I asked.
I knew about all the up-and-coming drivers in the sport, and I would especially know about another woman, but I had never heard of Elizabeth Tonkin.
"She's extremely talented. She drives over in Europe, and she's very excited to get back to her roots in America," Roger said.
"I'm sorry, but I earned my spot here. Are you just giving it away to another woman, so she can fill my role? Look, I know of everyone in this sport, and I don't know who this Mississippi Queen is."
Roger turned from his podium and looked at me. "Well, you don't know everything."
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, but what could I say (in a somewhat decent manner) that could possibly express how much it hurt? He already picked my replacement, and instead of someone who deserved a chance, he gave it to someone who I had never even heard of. How was I supposed to explain that?
Everything I had worked for, the Mississippi Queen got. How much more disrespect could he hand me?
"Griffin." I slapped my hand against the front door a couple times. "I already texted you three times that I'm here. Let me in. The ice is going to melt."
I had to do something with all the Coronas I had, and fortunately, Griffin had won my last race of the season. That meant there was going to be a party.
I knocked again. "Griffin, if anyone sees me with a cooler filled with beer right now, they'll think I've gone off the deep end."
Inside, Griffin shuffled around, and finally, he opened up the door. "Sorry. I was taking a shit."
"I'm happy for you." I picked up the handle to the cooler. "Now let me in. I brought beer."
I tried to brush past him, but he grabbed onto my arm and pulled me into a hug.
"I'm so sorry, Kate. I didn't want to win that race, and I feel really bad about it," he mumbled into my hair.
"Um, don't feel bad. It's probably for the best that I don't have a job, everyone thinks I have a drinking problem, and my life has gone to shit." I paused and ran my hand down his back. "I mean, it really is for the best. I'm already a lot happier."
"You don't have to lie to me. I'm not an idiot." Griffin sighed. "What are you even going to do now?"
"Maybe I'll go to Vegas. My luck has to turn eventually, and it might as well make me some money."
"That's not the way chance works. I know you didn't finish high school and all that, but you should at least understand that gambling while you're sad isn't going to change your probability of winning."
I frowned. "It might."
"It won't."
"Well, then maybe I'll just find a regular Vegas job there."
"You can't be a stripper either. Your boobs aren't big enough."
"Good God, my life is just one tragedy after another." I slumped down into one of the stools at the island in his kitchen. The sunlight through the window made the granite countertops shine, and he had a couple pots going on his sleek stainless-steel stove. Something bubbled inside one of the lidded pots, and I took in a breath. It didn't smell like anything in the kitchen, but all health food was pretty fucking bland.
How could he live somewhere like Louisiana and eat quinoa? It made no sense.
"I mean, I know you have some money saved, but if it'll make you feel better, you can always stay with me until you get back on your feet," Griffin said.
"I'm not staying anywhere, Griffin. I really do want to go somewhere. Home, maybe." I put on a smile. "I mean, I haven't been in Akron since the winter, and that's pretty much the worst time to be there."
Griffin nodded. "I understand that, but where are you going to end up?"
"I don't know. I put all my eggs in one basket, and now the basket's gone. But fortunately, I had a second secret basket that I'm gonna use."
"And what's in that one?"
"My plan B that I still have to think of."
Griffin sighed. "You should think about going back to school with the money you have left. It'll give you a chance to figure out what you want—"
"I can't do that. You know I can't."
"Why not? It'll make you seem stupid?"
"Because I'm not made for that kind of life. I want to drive, and that's all. This is what I was born to do."
Something boiled over on one of the pots, and it sizzled on the hot surface of the stove.
"Fuck, my sauce," Griffin muttered and hustled to the stovetop. "Katie, you have to think big picture. After Truscott's speech, there might not be anyone who's willing to take a chance on you. You're risky."
I rubbed my eyes. "I've won before, and I can get there again at the highest level if I just had someone who wanted me to succeed. I'm not sure you understand how much it pisses me off."
Griffin lifted up the lid to the pot and tasted whatever kind of sauce he was making. "Come here and try this."
He held the spoon up to my mouth, and I tried it. It pretty much tasted like nothing, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
"Tastes great," I said. "What's it for?"
"I don't know. I just wanted to try this recipe, and I'll figure out something to put it on. What about pasta?"
"Well, you go ahead and do that. I should probably get going if I want to make it to Vegas in a couple days."
Griffin put down the spoon. "You're actually going to Vegas?"
"Yep. I might as well have a little fun with my unemployment, don't you think? I deserve a vacation."
Griffin chuckled. "You do. Call me if you need anything, and don't gamble all your money away or get arrested. I know you, Katie, and if anyone's going to have too much fun, it's you."
"I'll be back in a week, tops. Save a little bit of that bland ass sauce for me," I said.
Griffin turned to me as I headed for the front door.
"What about the cooler? What do you want me to do with it?" he asked.
"Have fun at your party," I said and shut the door behind me.