How is it that he knows everything?I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. I hate it when he’s right—and that’s most of the time.
“Okay fine, I’m assuming. It’s probably the case, anyway,” I defend.
Dad takes the wrench from me again with a look that he doesn’t plan on giving it back this time.
“Get out of here. We leave in the morning.”
I leave the shop in a huff, still feeling like there is more I can do to prepare. After a shower to get all the grime off me, IFaceTime Cindy and do some catching up. Though seeing each other in person would be better, this is still good.
We arrive in Daytona by late afternoon the following day, and as soon as we are parked in the infield, we hit the ground running. It’s time to get ready for qualifying and practice. There’s no time to think about my nerves regarding this track and what race day may hold for me.
Dixon is able to snag the second position after qualifying, with Greyson Hyo taking the pole position. Not surprising there. I end up qualifying twelfth, which isn’t bad, but not the best starting position.
After qualifying and practice are over, Leslie Wise and I decide to take a trip to the beach for some much needed girl time and a chance to relax. Being around the guys is cool and all, but there is only so much testosterone a girl can take.
Having Leslie around is great. It’s nice to be able to bond over being women in male dominated sports, where we get to race and actually support and hype each other up. She and I have developed a decent friendship on and off the track. This is her rookie season in SCORS, and I’ve sort of taken her under my wing. She’s very talented, and I have a feeling that she will be even better than me one day.
We are loading up my truck with beach chairs, umbrellas, and a cooler when I see Dixon approaching us.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Going somewhere, Brady?” he chirps.
“Don’t you have a grid girl to entertain?” I ask, ignoring his question completely.
“Don’t worry Brady, I’ve already entertained her. I just wanted to be sure you aren’t too upset with your qualifying run today.” His mouth quirks up in a sly grin. “Looks like you’ll need to hire some better engineers at Brady Racing.”
Leslie slides into the passenger seat of my truck, ducking so she doesn’t hit her head with her 5’10” frame. I climb in to try to get away, but Dixon decides to lean on the open window.
“Get off my window, Dixon. We would like to be somewhere you aren’t. Go back to your entertaining.” He steps back with a chuckle, and I fire up the truck and drive away. God, he’s so annoying.
Once we arrive at the beach, we set up our chairs and umbrellas. The sun is only just starting to set, but there’s still plenty of time to lay out in our bikinis.
We sit in comfortable silence and cool down with some water, taking in the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and the other beachgoers around us.
“So, Dean is competitive, huh?” she asks, breaking our silence. I’m not sure where she’s going with this question.
“So am I. What’s your point?” I ask, not turning to face her.
“He just seems to come after you most of the time,” she points out.
That gets me to look at her. Lifting my sunglasses up to the top of my head, she sweeps her long chestnut hair up into a high ponytail.
“We’re competitive. We always have been since he got here. We are both fighting for the same thing for next season. It’s just adding a little extra spark to it.” My words come out a little harsh, but it’s the truth.
“Doesn’t it seem like he overdoes it? I mean—who could hate you?” she asks, gesturing to me, lifting her own sunglasses up, revealing her brown eyes. I grab the sunscreen from my bag and apply it to my arms for something to do with my hands. I don’t want to talk about Dean fucking Dixon the few moments I get to spend away from the track.
I shrug, placing my sunglasses back on my face, and resume soaking in the setting sun once I’m done applying thesunscreen. “He’s just a jerk, Les. And a player. He’s just mad that I’m better than him.”
“Sure about that, Brady?”
Dixon’s voice crawls through my ears like a worm burrowing through the dirt. I fight to not give him the satisfaction of looking up at him.
So much for our peace.
“Get out of here, Dixon. We’re trying to relax. We can't do that with you here,” I say.
“How’d you even find us, anyway?” Leslie asks.
