Chapter 19
9 days until the Indianapolis 500
The final day of practice was her last chance to find speed in the car, and as much as it infuriated her to admit, Leo was right. All she could control was what she did on track. The crew had made adjustments, changing the camber and tire balance and triple-checking the bodywork for uneven spots. They’d listened to her and implemented every change they could, and now it was Mack’s turn to pull her weight.
She felt the change in the car immediately.
Even on cold tires, it took less effort to turn. Instead of pushing the wheel as hard as possible to the left and still barely managing to make the corner, the car glided through turns one and two. She kept her speeds slower on the first lap, and at the start of the second, Jimmy radioed for her to “give it a whirl.” She accelerated on the front stretch and eased into turn one. Midway through, right at the apex of the turn, the back end of the car stepped out toward the exterior wall. Reflexively, Mack countercorrected and caught the car before it noticeably fishtailed. Blood thumped in her head and she could hear her own breathing inside the tight helmet as she exited the turn. Janet and Jimmy surely had seen her lose control, but her radio stayed silent.
When she hit turn two, she anticipated the loose end of the car and kept it steady through the long, sweeping left-hander. She churned lap after lap, focused on finding the right line. After five laps, her hostilemanhandling waned into mild uneasiness. In ten laps, uneasiness transformed into a pattern of motion. The other cars around her faded, and for the first time since she stepped into an IndyCar, she didn’t feel like she was fighting the car every second.
“What’cha feeling out there?” Jimmy radioed.
“Understeer is gone. Back’s a little loose, but it’s working.”
“That last lap was in the top twenty cars,” Jimmy said casually. Even through the radio static, she could hear the grin in his voice.
Time suspended as she hurtled around the track, fine-tuning the balance of the car through the turns and pushing the throttle on the straightaways, finding the razor edge of control. Her focus homed in on each individual millisecond, her only thoughts about her movements and the car’s response. In a world full of technology and overstimulation, the singular focus of driving was the ultimate freedom.
A blur of green and black caught her peripheral vision as another car passed her, and she checked her dials to see if she’d lost speed. But then it clicked:Shewas passing the other car.
How had she forgotten how damn fun this was?
Thiswas what she’d missed. The joy and confidence of going fast yet being in complete command of the car. The rest of her life was filled with so many questions, most of them she didn’t know how to answer:Will Shaw forgive me for yelling? What if Dad has a seizure when I’m not at home? How can we keep cash flow through the offseason?But here in this car, finally, she knew what to do. She felt confidence and pleasure flowing from the steering wheel down into her body, like the car itself was bringing her back to a version of herself that experienced life instead of merely existing.
“Your tires are going to fall off soon,” Janet radioed. “Come in.”
Mack ducked into the pits, this time managing to at least get all four tires inside the pit box, if not perfectly straight. She killed the engine and a high-pitched ringing in her ears replaced the sound of the engine. She removed the steering wheel and hauled herself onto the lip of the aeroscreen, her chest heaving with adrenaline and effort.
“Well,” Janet said, approaching the car. She looked out at the track, and Mack followed her gaze toward the rows of aluminum bleachers dotted with a few remaining fans. The sun was on its downward arc, but these spectators probably arrived as soon as the gates opened and wouldn’t leave until the last car was towed to the garages.
“Those last five laps were freeze-the-car fast.” Janet’s face was implacable as she watched Mack unbuckle her helmet, but Jimmy’s lips curled up slightly at the edges.
Mack pulled off her helmet and pushed her sweaty hair off her face. “Fast enough to qualify?”
Jimmy’s lips broke into a real grin and his faded eyes lit up. “Fast enough to put you midfield. The type of fast that makes you wish you could freeze the car so it would stay this good.”
A second, then two. And then she realized the significance of what he’d said.Fast enough to put you midfield.Mack breathed against the hot tears that threatened; she would not be the woman who cried on pit lane. She managed to stop the tears but couldn’t dampen her joy, impulsively hugging Jimmy, and then Janet, even though she probably smelled worse than a high school locker room. Janet awkwardly patted Mack on the back and the two quick taps spoke as loudly as a shout. Mack had finally made her new boss proud.
“This is only the start, you get me? When you’re out there, you’re working to win. That clear?” Mack nodded even though it made her hydration-starved head pound. “And get a sponsor. Get several.”
Jimmy shook her hand and Mack’s chest felt tight with the honor. As he walked back toward the garage, he muttered, “Rookie likes a loose car. Didn’t see that coming.”
Mack hoisted herself over the pit wall and high-fived, fist-bumped, and thanked the crew. Whatever they’d changed on the car had turned it into a rocket ship and she was grateful. Jimmy was right that the driver got the glory, but dozens of people built the victory: mechanics who built the cars, engineers who studied telemetry and weather and track conditions, the over-the-wall crew that put the fuel in the car andchanged tires. Every single individual on a team contributed to the success or failure of a car, and Mack’s win was theirs, too. She saw it on the faces of everyone around her.
Including Leo, who stood behind the wall, smiling like he’d wanted nothing more than to watch her fly. Body still flooded with adrenaline and endorphins, Mack didn’t think twice about throwing herself into his arms. For a second too long, Mack savored the feel of solid chest and arms and that intoxicating smell of warm skin and motor oil.
Leo discreetly put space between them, reminding her of her own rule. Teammates only, especially here on pit lane.
“You’re almost in the club now. Qualify for the Indy 500 tomorrow, and they can’t ever take that away from you.”
Her throat closed with unexpected feeling, and she fiddled with the collar of her fire suit to hide the wave of emotion. Soon—too soon—she’d go back to her real life, caring for her family and running the dirt track, but no matter how many bleacher seats she had to repair, or how much popcorn she had to pop, however many school plays and dentist appointments lay in front of her, she could still be Mack Williams, Indy 500 qualifier.
Did Leo understand the gift he gave her?
“A few of us get together the night before qualification starts. It’s practically geriatric, no booze, in bed by ten, but it’s tradition. Say you’ll join us?”
She blinked, surprised by the invitation but more surprised by how badly she wanted to say yes. A night out sounded like exactly what she needed, but Shaw was waiting for her, and Wes and Laurie. And, for Mack, nights out never ended calmly; the night with Leo at Workingman’s was one of many nights she’d promised herself to stay calm and ended up in someone else’s bed. The only reason they’d stopped themselves in the garage was because Leo had self-control.
