She tilted her head back and looked at the sky, needing a moment to sort through all her want-to-do versus should-do calculations.
“Williams! C’mon back to the garage and let’s do a quick debrief,” Janet called. She didn’t wait for anyone before stalking back to Gasoline Alley. Practice was coming to a close for the day, and the sound of multiple engines pulling into pit lane blotted out all other sound. Mack gestured with her thumb toward the garage.
Leo leaned in and cupped a hand near her ear, close enough that his beard tickled her. “I’ll text you the info. We’ll make it a teammate tradition.”
From:[email protected]
To:[email protected]; [email protected]
Subject:RE: Unique Indy 500 Sponsorship Opportunity! [May 15, 3:29 p.m.]
Ms. Williams,
Thank you for contacting EverCold about Indianapolis 500 sponsorship opportunities. We appreciate your pitch; unfortunately, we do not see motorsport racing as a value-add for our marketing.
Best of luck,
Zara T. Ongaias
Head of Marketing
EverCold Camping Products, LLC
Missoula, Montana
Chapter 20
9 days until the Indianapolis 500
Her entire family ambushed Mack as she exited the infield restroom-turned-locker-room, smothering her with hugs even though she reeked of a funky combination of physical exertion, nervousness, and post-practice nausea sweats. Her dad was unfazed.
“My Spec, flying around Indianapolis. I knew it. I knew it would happen yet,” Wes croaked as he hugged her.
Emotional, Mack pulled away. This was how she wanted her dad to see her, not the exhausted, cranky bitch she often was at home. He’d never made his love conditional, but dammit if she didn’t want to earn his praise anyway. “Shh! I haven’t even qualified yet.”
“You smell funny.” Shaw pinched her nose, doing her duty as a child to keep her mother humble, even as Mack squeezed her tight. Single parenthood was often isolating and thankless, but it all made sense when Shaw squeezed her back.
“I figured you might want a ride home, and Dad and Shaw are dying to show you the RV. According to my niece, it is the height of luxury. Could we escort you to our father’s newest home with wheels?” Laurie managed to turn yet another of Billie’s homemade T-shirts—a tie-dyed blue-and-white swirl with her name in bold black cursive—into a fashion statement with white jeans and sky-high sandals.
A tram drove them through a long tunnel under the track itself, exiting into the grassy sprawl of a parking lot as the sun kissed the horizon. Each time Mack saw an Indiana sunset, all open skies and waving fields and golden apricot light, she felt it in her bones. Indiana was permanently imprinted in her insides. Even if she’d kept racing, she never would have left the land that made her make sense to herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled the bright floral scent of tulip poplars and dogwoods and the verdant tang of freshly mown grass.
They jerked to a stop at a massive burgundy-and-gold motor coach parked in between dozens of other campers. Wes proudly ushered her inside, and she instantly traveled back twenty years. This motor home was three times the size of the one they’d grown up in, but the concept was so familiar Mack swore she could smell the vinyl seats and Wes’s Old Spice cologne. And yet, nothing in this coach felt like Wes. The stainless steel appliances, plush fabric seating, and stone tabletop were a far cry from the orange corduroy and peeling Formica they’d grown up with. A sign proclaimingWelcome Y’alladorned the entryway, and a bouquet of fake white lilies sat on the dining table. Black-and-white buffalo check curtains hung at the windows, and a framed watercolor of a field—with a sunset startlingly similar to the one outside—hung over the small kitchen sink. The entire place smelled like the candle section of Walmart.
Not for the first time, Mack wondered how her dad could afford such a luxury vehicle. She desperately wanted to ask, but she worried the answer would be too terrifying. She’d deal with that after Indy. After she qualified and raced and knew the full extent of what kind of money she owed Janet. If she couldn’t find sponsorship, she might be paying back Janet and the RV mortgage for the rest of her life. She’d have to find a second job, maybe a third.
Shaw tugged on Mack’s arm as she chattered about all the RV’s features, pointing out the dining bench that turned into a sofa, the small bathroom, a row of bunk beds, and large primary bedroom at the back. The hallwaywas lined with rows of black-and-white photographs in matching frames, and Mack stopped when a familiar image snagged her attention.
A cigarette dangled from a younger Wes’s lips while his hands held a large trophy.Perris, California.Early on in the heat races, her dad flipped his car, bouncing end over end before landing upside down. Mack was too young to worry much, but Laurie had sobbed until Wes, like a stray cat, crawled out of the mangled chassis without a scratch. He went on to win the main event later that night as the banged-out dents in his car gleamed in the overhead lights. Mack had been full of childlike glee at her dad’s victory, but Laurie hadn’t spoken to their dad for two days afterward.
Their family history played out in grayscale down the hallway. Wes toasting cans of Miller High Life with his racing buddies after winning the Chili Bowl Nationals, Wes standing on the roof of his car after winning his seventh and final championship. Laurie at thirteen, holding a cardboard microphone at a makeshift podium Wes made for her when she complained about not being able to compete at the school spelling bee. Mack at ten, helmet in hand, the top of her head not even clearing the roll bar of her first quarter midget. Twenty-year-old Mack, sweaty but smiling after a stint at 24 Hours of Daytona. Laurie, peering over the top ofPersuasion.
At the end of the hallway hung a large portrait of Mack and Laurie at four and eight years old, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Mack touched a finger to the place where their cheeks smashed together.
“You like it?” Billie asked, startling Mack. Her hands were clasped together, an expectant look on her face. She didn’t know if Billie was asking about the RV or the photos.
“It’s nice,” Mack managed. Where had Billie even found these photographs? It was unsettling that someone she barely knew had seen the still shots of their lives and known exactly how to display their past so that they’d remember the good parts, not the bad.
“It’s awesome!” Shaw said as she clambered onto the top bunk, swathed in ruffled blue bedding. “Blankie loves it!” She rubbed her face on her worn fleece blanket, the way she had as a baby, and burst into giggles.
