Janet sighed, hands resting on her narrow hips. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy but I thought we could get a few folks on board.”
“I’ve been trying—”
“You think Sarah Fisher had an easy time getting sponsorships before she led laps here? This isn’t just about you, Williams. It’s about women in motorsports, and how men in C-suites don’t think we can earn back their investment. There may be more women in this paddock than when I was here in the nineties, but there sure as shit ain’t the money to match.” Janet pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “If you’re not getting death or rape threats, I guess they think that’s improvement.” She blew out a long stream of breath. “Go walk around. Get some air, wave at fans, see if anyone will interview you.”
Knowing she was dismissed, Mack left the garage. As she walked around the paddock, she thought about Janet’s words. She was definitely an anomaly as a female driver but she didn’t feel threatened or unsafe. Women had given their blood, sweat, tears, and dignity for Mack to stand here today and she wouldn’t waste the chance.
She rounded the corner of the Gasoline Alley exit and ran chest-first into Wyatt Venter, the large and gregarious owner of Ampersand Autosport. Ten years ago, when she’d called Wyatt and explained why she had to back out of the IndyCar test drive he’d offered, he’d been polite and told her to call him after she’d had the baby and they’d work something out. She hadn’t spoken to him since.
“Whoa! Mack Williams!” He took a step back and held out his hand.
“Hi, Wyatt.”
He’d gained fifty pounds and lost a head full of hair in the years since she’d last seen him. “I was only a little surprised to see you on the entrant list. Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
Mack shrugged. How could she explain that she’d never wanted to stay away? He’d been gracious when she’d bowed out, but it still felt like a burned bridge. She’d naively expected him to keep pursuing her after Shaw was born, and it had taken her way too long to accept that the world didn’t work like that for women. She was angry with him, not for anything he’d done personally, but because he’d let her down just as much as she had disappointed him. “Something like that.”
“Well, it’s good to see you back out there.” His smile was warm but he looked over her shoulder distractedly.
“Thanks,” Mack said lamely.
He clapped her on the shoulder as he said apologetically, “Gotta run, but good luck!”
She closed her eyes as the chaos of Gasoline Alley swirled around her. If things had gone differently, would she still work for Wyatt Venter? Would she be walking down the paddock with years of experience under her belt, knowing intimately how to race at this unique track? Would she have earned pole position, signed a huge contract, maybe even won the whole damn thing? The what-ifs swamped her and she closed her eyes against everything that could have been.
“Mack!”
Her eyes popped open to see her family striding toward her, pit passes dangling from their necks. Billie, in tight white jeans, black-and-white-checked heeled sneakers, and yet another homemadeMack Williams #11T-shirt carefully knotted to show off her small waist, had mastered the art of track chic: a tiny bit tacky, a lot bit festive. Laurie walked next to Wes, who kept pace with his cane, but neither was smiling.
“Where’s Shaw?” Mack asked, something foul tingling in her gut. She’d barely finished the question when she noticed a familiar figure partly obscured by the crowd of people milling around the garage. Fora moment, she wondered if she was hallucinating, or if the heat was affecting her vision. Maybe she was coming down with something, a fever or vertigo. But the crowd cleared, and she knew she wasn’t imagining it.
There was Shaw, holding the hand of Kelley Caruthers.
Mack’s brain stuttered, unable to digest what she saw.
He walked through the paddock with the same loose-limbed confidence she once found so attractive, a cocky grin lifting one corner of his mouth as he took in the sights of Gasoline Alley. When they’d been together, Kelley wore Wrangler jeans from Rural King and free promo T-shirts; Mack had liked his sartorial ignorance and his fuck-you attitude had driven her lust into hyperdrive. But now he wore tight jeans, designer sneakers, and a leather jacket that looked so new it didn’t even have creases at the elbows yet. Thin silver bracelets tinkled on his wrists and his short dark hair was swept back with shiny gel, like a knock-off Reynaldo.
“Mama! Look what Daddy brought me!”
Shaw held up a small plastic replica of a 1000cc bike, complete with a tiny rider wearing Kelley’s hallmark lime green helmet. Her daughter held the toy as if he’d given her a rare and precious piece of art. Idols were easier to love when you didn’t know them. Shaw didn’t seem to remember what happened when she was three, and Mack hoped it stayed that way. She would carry the memory for both of them.
“What are you doing here?” Mack loathed her own high-pitched tone.
Kelley did what Kelley wanted to do, whenever Kelley wanted to do it, and this type of unannounced visit was his signature style. When Shaw was first born, Mack had clung to his sporadic involvement, hoping against all reason that he’d grow into an involved father. And that one fateful time, when she’d been desperate and overwhelmed, she’d jumped on his random offer to take Shaw to Spain for two weeks. She’d thought it would be good bonding time for Shaw and Kelley. Ignorantly, she’d even daydreamed that her daughter would grow upsplitting her time between two countries, becoming well traveled and cultured, maybe even bilingual. Kelley might even come to appreciate the sacrifices she made for their daughter. She knew he wouldn’t love her—she understood that by then—but maybe he’d see how they could be a family. At the time, she was twenty-three while Kelley was thirty-three, and she’d been relieved to have help from someone who seemed more adult than she felt.
Instead, Kelley left Shaw in the care of a random girlfriend, which Mack learned about when the girlfriend called her and told her to come pick up her crying brat. By the time Mack maxed out a credit card and landed in Barcelona, she found Shaw covered in red sores on her bottom and holding her arm. Kelley refused to see anything wrong with the situation, blaming Shaw for crying too much and not yet being potty-trained. Young, furious, terrified for her daughter, Mack waited to take Shaw to the doctor until they were back in the States. She’d wanted to get Shaw as far away from Kelley as possible. She would never forget sitting in the emergency room as a doctor showed her the X-ray of her daughter’s dislocated shoulder, and then the next day when the Department of Child Services knocked at her door.
They’d followed her for months, showing up at random hours, talking to the neighbors but barely talking to Mack at all, scrutinizing every inch of their home, and worst of all, calling Kelley.
She could still hear his enraged voice on the phone:If you ever put me through this kind of attention again, I will make your life hell. I will get custody of Shaw and move her to Spain and you’ll never see her again. You will tell those DCS people that she fell and that’s the end of it. I have money, I have lawyers, and I will bury you in court until you’re broke and alone. I can make Shaw disappear and there’s nothing you can do about it.
It was the only time Mack had called Laurie and begged for help. Laurie helped Mack navigate DCS, and after six months of state supervision, they’d finally closed Mack’s case. Her sister wanted Mack to file for a formal custody agreement, but Mack refused. She knew Kelley was serious about taking Shaw away, not because he wanted her, but becausehe hated losing. She’d been on her best behavior ever since, never doing anything to attract the attention of teachers, coaches, other parents, and especially not Kelley. Mack was a bland, perfect mom in public and tried her damnedest to be the same at home. She’d finally understood then that Kelley didn’t want Shaw, didn’t want a family, and certainly didn’t want Mack. He wanted to have the upper hand.
Kelley smiled like he’d pulled off a movie-worthy surprise, like when the hero arrives just in time for the heroine’s big moment in a rom-com. “When I heard you were running at Indy”—he widened his eyes theatrically as he gestured around them—“I thought my daughter might need some time with her dad while you’re ...” He waved his hands. “Whatever this is.”
The noise and movement of qualification day swirled around them but Mack felt like a furious, frightened rabbit, terrified to move. On the exterior, she remained still as stone, but inside her mouth flooded with bitter saliva.
Oblivious to the adult tension, Shaw began prattling. “Daddy saw Pawpaw’s big house on wheels!”
