@charls78:@sportsillustrated get this hottie on the swimsuit edition
@terribleanium: @charls78nah she ain’t got no titties
Chapter 25
8 days until the Indianapolis 500
“So. You finally made it to the Indy 500.”
Mack did not answer. She fast-walked out of Gasoline Alley, no idea where she was going but desperate to get away, both from Kelley and from anyone who might see them together.
“What is your problem?” he asked, easily keeping pace with her as she marched through the paddock. “I came here to check up on Shaw, to make sure she’s getting what she needs. That’s in my rights as her father.”
“If you’re here to see Shaw, you should actually spend time with her instead of harassing me.” She didn’t want him near her daughter, but she knew it was the right thing to say, and that Laurie would never leave Kelley alone with Shaw.
“Harassing?” Kelley made a face. “I’m trying to help you, Mack. I’m worried about you.” Kelley grabbed her elbow, and she shook him off with a sharp snap.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He removed his hand but gave her a look of stomach-curdling pity. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Mack. Why are you even here?”
Why am I here?She was furious that his words echoed her own concerns. She’d found pace yesterday at practice, but her ability to make the Indy 500 remained a giant question mark.
“Fuck you,” she said, forgetting to be calm and mature. The shock of his appearance was wearing off, replaced by white-hot rage. How had she ever found this man attractive? And why was she stupid enough to link her life with his forever by having a child with him? She doubled her pace. “My work has absolutely nothing to do with you.”
He caught up to her quickly, his long legs eating the pavement twice as fast as her own.
“Your work?” he mocked. “Yourworkis selling overpriced beer to rednecks. This is ...” He gestured around them, shaking his head. “I don’t know what this is, Mack, but it makes me wonder about your mental state. You haven’t raced for years and you think you can win the Indy 500?” He barked a laugh. “You’re making a joke of yourself, trying to race but partying like you’re a teenager. I’m worried about you.”
Panic mixed with her anger. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s all over social media. You’re staying out all night, fooling around with Leo Raisman, screaming at people.”
She knew she shouldn’t rise to the bait but she couldn’t stop herself. “Of course I spend time with Leo. He’s my teammate.”
Kelley squinted at her. “You’re sleeping with him while our daughter is living in a van.”
“It’s not like that!”
Kelley shrugged. “I don’t care who you whore yourself out to. I told you, I’m worried about Shaw. It isn’t good for her to see you make such a spectacle of yourself. This”—he waved his hands around, encompassing the track—“this whole ridiculous thing is not good for her.”
“Oh, and you’re a paragon of parenthood?” Mack hissed. She was losing control of the situation fast, her panic and rage and anxiety swirling together. Her vision began to narrow. “What do you want? Be a fucking adult and admit what you’re doing here.”
I will get custody of Shaw and move her to Spain and you’ll never see her again.
She wanted to hear him say it out loud. She’d lived so long with the specter of losing Shaw that she needed to hear him say the words.
But before he could give her any satisfaction, someone called his name. The manager of one of the large racing teams held out a hand and they greeted each other with dude-to-dude back slapping. As if they hadn’t been in the middle of a conversation, Kelley turned and started chatting with the manager. Mack watched as one conversation rolled into another, with drivers and fans and crew all coming over to say hello to the bad boy of motorcycle racing. In the hierarchy of motorsports, MotoGP racers were like fighter jet pilots: a lot of excitement, a little unhinged. With each new back slap, Kelley rehashed his monster wreck, describing how tough he was during recovery, how he felt better than ever now.
Mack left Kelley to preen under the attention and plunged through the pandemonium of the busy paddock, no idea where she was going or where she was supposed to be. Her mind seethed with the things Kelley had said. Was she really embarrassing herself by trying to make the Indy 500? What the hell was on social media about her and Leo?
She was lost in her own mind when someone called out her name.
Mack turned and saw a well-known reporter holding a microphone and wearing aMotosportlogoed polo, a cameraman hovering close behind her. Hana Park had won a European women’s-only racing series twice, and despite promises from Formula One that the program would lead to more opportunities for women in F1, she got no offers. She’d done a few stints in Australia and Japan before transitioning into an astute and well-liked reporter for the premier North American racing channel.
“Mack, do you have a moment to speak withMotosport?”
Mack looked over her shoulder to see that Kelley was fully occupied. She’d yet to have an on-camera interview, and not only would it get her good attention, it would throw Kelley’s words right back in his face. She wasn’t a laughingstock; she was here to race. “Of course.”
