In the garage, Mack scrambled to get her gear out of the storage locker and tried to keep her heart rate down even as her mind swirled with panic. In the bathroom, she pulled on her layers without taking the time to make sure all her seams were smooth and wadded her hair into a crappy braid. Hot nausea bubbled in her gut, and Mack pushed her hands against her stomach to stop it.
Outside, Jimmy wound his finger in the universal sign forlet’s goand Mack jogged toward pit lane, awkwardly pulling her balaclava one-handed over her face while holding her gloves and helmet. She tried to get her mind right as she hustled to pit lane, but all she could think about was Janet’s face when she’d shown up at the fountain. Janet knew her history with Kelley and Mack could only imagine what her boss was thinking now. Probably that all those social media posts were true.
A flash of shiny lacquer caught the sunlight, and adrenaline flooded Mack’s body at the sight of her car being towed toward the most famous track in American racing. There was no time to find her family. No time to hug Wes, hear Laurie’s voice, no time to promise Shaw that she’d be safe.
This was her one shot at making the Indy 500 and she was thinking about everything but the herculean task ahead. Janet was right. She had to get her shit togethernow.
She focused on the mechanics of what she needed to do to physically get ready: A quick lick of her earbuds before shoving them into place. One final crack of her neck. Helmet on, straps tightened under her chin. HANS device around her neck, gromets snapped to her helmet. One leg on the sidepod, one leg over the aeroscreen and into the car. Buckles snapped in place and pulled tight. Gloves on, each seam smoothed to lay perfectly flat. Steering wheel snapped in place.
Her hands shook against the wheel.
No, no. She had to get calm. Had to focus.
Jimmy appeared to her right and she looked up at him from her low seat near the ground. “No lift, Rookie. Run your line.”
Before Mack could thank him, he was gone.
Through her earbuds, Janet reminded her to go flat out, but above all, protect the chassis. Did she hear condescension in Janet’s voice or was it the radio static? She gripped the wheel tightly, settling her fingers in the grooves, and a crew member pulled the starter. The whole world roared at her back.
The cockpit pressed in on Mack and her helmet felt too tight.
Unwanted thoughts assaulted her as she waited to be released from her pit box. Her adrenal system was too active, her heart rate way too high already. She’d let herself get distracted with Leo’s and Laurie’s confessions and Kelley’s sneer and that stupid RV, and now she was about to take to the track so rattled that sweat puddled under her eyes and in the crease of her neck. A geyser of bile pushed up Mack’s throat.
Distractions were costly, even deadly. She had to focus, if not for herself, then for Shaw.
Above her, she could see spectators in the grandstands, tiny dots of color watching every move on the track. She imagined Shaw up there, watching and waiting. Wes wasn’t always careful with his phone, and what if Shaw googled and saw the things people were saying about Mack online? What if Shaw was hiding how much it had hurt her when Mack up and left for Indianapolis? What if Kelley was with her rightnow, poisoning her against Mack, encouraging her to move with him across the ocean? What if Shaw was already gone?
“And now, driving for Janet Joyner Racing, rookie Mackenzie Williams!”
Mack released the clutch and accelerated out of the pit box. Her mind was still not settled, not clicked in the way it should be, but the only thing she could do was throttle up.
She rounded the first two turns and headed down the backstretch, warming up the rubber tires so they added extra grip on the track surface. The asphalt stretched out before her and Mack tried to feel awe and overwhelming gratitude that she was in this car, about to take the green flag at Indy. She knew she should feel the magnitude of this moment, should feel the power and joy of her first qualification run for the Indy 500.
What she actually felt was numb panic, like her mind lagged two laps behind her body.
As she rounded the last turn of her warm-up lap, she willed herself to get it together, to remember this moment, to cherish it. Today was the meal that had to nourish her forever.
She felt the uneven rumble of the bricks beneath her tires, saw the flash of green fabric in her peripheral vision, and heard Jimmy mark the start of her run through the radio. As if he could sense her nerves, Jimmy radioed, “Stay on it. Stay in it.”
Mack gripped the wheel tighter, letting the pressure ground her. She muscled her way through the first lap, holding as flat as she could in every turn but knowing the speed wasn’t there. Was Kelley watching her, thinking that she was a fool to try for the Indy 500 after all these years? Why did she care what he thought? Was she now the butt of all the female race car driver jokes, fans laughing over her looks, her body, her relationship with Leo?
Where was Shaw right now?
She dove into the second qualification lap and willed herself to neither downshift nor lift off the accelerator. The back end gave a slightwiggle as she steered left, but she caught it at the last millisecond and held her line through the long turn, then kept it flat through the short chute before turning into two.
“228.181,” Jimmy radioed in her ear.
Not good enough.
What if all anyone saw was a driver who didn’t really deserve to be here? Hartley, the main sponsor, certainly thought that. No other sponsor had seen enough in her to back her. The other drivers were kind to her, but she had no idea what they thought or said about her in private. What if they all thought she’d slept her way into this opportunity? Did Boomer and Jericho know about Leo, had they seen the posts?
Shaw. Shaw. Shaw.
Down the backstretch, Mack stuck the throttle to the floor and watched the numbers on her accelerometer tick up. The rear end kicked and bucked through turns three and four, but she held on. Her arms screamed with tension as she manhandled the steering rack.
“Starting lap three. Lap two, 228.399,” Jimmy radioed.
But you’re the mom.
