“Hey, still some laps left. Focus and go get her,” Steve encourages.
He always knows what to say to keep me from spiraling. I take a breath and release it, digging back in to get back to Regan’s rear bumper.
“Five to go, buddy,” Steve informs me.
With five more laps to go, I need to make a move to at least try to get closer to Brady.
“Brady just passed Clarks for the lead,” my spotter says.
Great. Now I need to pass Hicks, Clarks, and Brady. I have to win. There is no other choice but winning, and moving into the Cup Series. If I fail, there is more than just me not gettingthat spot. All the effort, time, money put in will have been for nothing.
There must be something with Clarks’ car, because he is slowing down and heading toward pit road with smoke trailing behind him. His motor must have blown up. I’m able to get around Hicks; the handling of his car seems to be fading away, as he has slowed down significantly.
“Two laps,” Steve says.
I come up to Brady’s bumper and give her a small tap so that she knows I’m there. She bobbles just a little, and I’m able to get under her.
“White flag,” Steve calls.
I’m giving it my all on this lap, but it’s just not enough, and Brady is able to claim the win in the end.
I bring my car back down pit road, park it in my stall, and climb out, pissed that I wasn’t able to clench the win. I’m removing my helmet when I see Brady out on the track still celebrating with the fans.
I’m too angry to stick around for any interviews like we’re supposed to. I know the team will be fined for it, but in this moment, I don’t give two shits about it.
I walk by the crew, Steve, and…Nina? Noel? What’s her name again? Ugh. Who cares? She’s trying to get my attention to bring her back to the infield. After that performance, I’ll need a good fuck to get that out of my head. I’m walking toward my hauler when I hear the voice of Evan Knight, one of the reporters.
Shit. Well, they found me anyway.
“How do you feel about the outcome of today’s race?” Evan asks, his dark blue eyes sparkling, hoping I answer the question. I stare down at him since he’s a bit on the shorter side. I notice the cowlick on his dark blonde hair that’s being squashed by his headset.
My teeth clench. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I turn to continue walking until I hear his next words.
“How are you feeling on your championship chances with Brady’s win today?”
FIVE
REGAN
After another winin the books, I’m running on full adrenaline. I bring the car to the victory lane to celebrate with Dad and the rest of the crew. I climb out of the car, confetti and champagne covers me with a wave of cheers behind it.
Dad comes up and gives me a big hug that lifts me up off the ground. This is my third this season, giving me an even bigger points advantage.
Cup series, here I fucking come.
Katarina Jaxson approaches me, microphone in hand and her camera crew following right behind her for a post-race interview. Her bright red hair is tied in a high ponytail that contrasts the black headphones she wears over her ears. Her smile is bright, reaching her brown eyes.
“What a race, Regan! You clenched another win for this season, that’s three. How are you feeling?” She thrusts a microphone in my face for my response.
“We had a great car. The crew was just amazing and kept me out toward the front all day. Just glad we’re able to keep our points lead to get that Cup spot next season,” I say with a big smile.
“Thanks, Regan. Congrats on the win,” she says as sheturns back toward the camera to take the broadcast back to the booth commentators.
After taking all the photos needed for the sponsors and more post-race interviews, I’m finally able to head back to the infield to my RV and change out of my disgusting fire suit.
I walk into the bus-style RV and head toward the back bedroom that Dad is nice enough to let me have so that I can have some privacy, while he sleeps on the pull-out couch in the living room.
The RV starts to shake before I hear the door open then shut as I change into my pajamas after my shower.
