The soft lighting of the bar highlighted the shine of his dark curls and the warmth of his skin. His beard was neatly trimmed and the suit was a nice touch too, except ... Mack laughed when she realized the T-shirt under his sports coat boastedMy Best Friend Won the Indy 500 and All I Got Was This T-shirt. A glance at Boomer revealed he wore a T-shirt with his blazer and dress pants, except his proclaimedI Pee in My Seat. Jericho wore a crisp lavender button-down and a shit-eating grin.
“They never should have taken the bet,” he boasted. “These numpties agreed to wear a design of my choosing if I won.”
She gestured up and down. “You know the lumberjack beard ruins the sharp-dressed-man effect, right?”
“Who needs handsome when you’ve got the winner’s ring, yeah? And my fiancée loves the beard.”
“There’s no accounting for taste,” Boomer rejoined.
“Says the man dating the enemy!”
Boomer rolled his neck from side to side, and Mack could hear the loud crack of his spine over the noise of the bar. It was the worst-kept secret in IndyCar that Boomer was in a long-term relationship with a crewman on another team, but auto racing was yet another sport where too many people kept quiet about their romantic lives in order to remain in good graces with sponsors. It was infuriating, especially considering the only scandal was that Boomer’s boyfriend was on a rival team.
“Anyway,” Boomer said irritably. He waved a finger between himself and the two others. “These jokers had two 500s under their belt by the time I was a rookie. I was so nervous on the final day of practice that I kept dashing to the porta-pots. My twofriendshere, one of whom is my teammate”—he scowled at Jericho—“decided to help merelaxthe night before quals by bringing me here so I could really roast my guts.”
“Right on time,” Leo said as a man in a gray sweater approached with a large tray. “Mack, meet Craig Huse, the owner of this fine establishment and purveyor of the finest shrimp cocktail in the world. Craig, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to my first-ever teammate and the fastest woman in Indianapolis, Mack Williams.”
Craig smiled and leaned forward with a small bow. “It’s an honor. I hope your taste in food is more sophisticated than your taste in friends.” Despite his teasing, the mutual respect between the restaurateur and the drivers was obvious. He wished them luck and promised he’d bewatching from the stands tomorrow before placing a pewter goblet in front of each of them. A handful of plump pink shrimp lined the rim of the cup and chunky red sauce filled the interior. “Godspeed!”
Boomer and Jericho cackled as Craig backed away, grinning and shaking his head. She suspected there was a prank coming but she was distracted by the sheer joy of the camaraderie. The whole thing was ridiculous, the T-shirts and the bragging and the keeping her in the dark, and she loved it. When was the last time she’d hung out with friends, having fun? And when had she ever done that without taking it into chaos?
Leo banged his fist on the polished bar. “Are we doing this or not?”
“Right,” Boomer agreed. “It’s almost bedtime. On three?”
“What’s on three?” she demanded, but the three men ignored her and plucked the shrimp off the side of their silver cups. Boomer braced like he was preparing for a punch and Jericho did some shallow breathing that Mack vaguely remembered learning in a birthing class.
Boomer held the cup of overflowing cocktail sauce. “Drink up, Rookie.”
“What?” she shouted a little too loudly.
“Drink It!” the three men yelled back even louder. Mack was vaguely aware of other patrons watching them, and for reasons she couldn’t explain even to herself, she took the cup from Boomer and downed the sauce.
Other than the odd sensation of drinking a condiment, Mack really didn’t see why it was such a thing for these guys but maybe—
Oh shit goddamn holy fucking piss on a power lineshe was suddenly dying.Dying.Her tongue went hot and numb, and the gums above her teeth felt triple their normal size. Salty water spontaneously poured from her eyes and she was pretty certain she had snot running out of her nose and over her lips, but she couldn’t feel anything in the general region of her mouth. The inside of her nose felt like she’d inhaled a flamethrower.
“Water!” she gasped, fanning her face with her hands.
“No water!” Leo wheezed.
“Be brave, lads!” Jericho choked out. Boomer sat silently crying, his tears pooling on the shiny wood of the bar. He was smiling, or maybe trying not to vomit. Mack couldn’t tell.
“Fuck this is terrible!” She had no idea if she was shouting or whispering.
“Okay, okay it’s starting to burn down,” Leo rasped. Mack’s own mouth still blazed but she no longer felt like death was imminent.
“Well, obviously the rookie lost,” Jericho said. Even through the burn of the cocktail sauce, he sounded cocky.
“Of course she lost,” Leo said. His voice was returning to normal and he dabbed at his eyes with the napkin. “We didn’t tell her the rules.”
“How the hell did I lose?Whatdid I lose?”
“First to ask for water loses,” Boomer informed her. “Rookie always loses. Consider it an initiation.”
“You’re saying that because you were the first rookie to lose,” Jericho taunted.
Mack swiveled her head to take them in, a lightness flooding her body. She didn’t care that she’d probably ruined her taste buds for life, or that she’d lost some stupid trick. These people cared enough to initiate her into a tradition. An Indy 500 tradition. “You’re all fucking nuts,” she said through laughter.
