“Back Home Again in Indiana”: The race doesn’t start until over 300,000 people, led by Jim Corneilson, sing the beloved state song.
Whether you’re a die-hard race fan or just someone who loves a good party, there’s something for everyone at the Indy 500. We hope to see you there!
Chapter 4
4 weeks until the Indianapolis 500
“Dad, I made oatmeal!”
Mack yelled down the hallway of their tiny post-war bungalow while Shaw plopped into a worn kitchen chair and glared at the steaming bowl in front of her. Mack poured a glass of orange juice for Shaw while checking the clock. The bedroom door yanked open and Mack startled at the sight of her dad’s newest girlfriend wearing skinny jeans and a fuzzy white sweater. At seven thirty in the morning, Billie’s glossy brown hair was perfectly curled and her makeup photo ready, including ... was that a temporary tattoo of a butterfly on her cheek? On a Monday morning?
“Oh hey, Mack,” Billie drawled in her thick East Tennessee accent. “We’re running a little slow this morning. Nothing an allergy pill and a little Tylenol can’t fix. D’ya need me to help get Shaw ready for school?”
Mack grimaced at Billie’s casual use ofwe. Billie hadn’t officially moved in but she was at the house more mornings than not, and her things were slowly taking over. Last week, a blender appeared on the counter “for Wes’s green smoothies” as if her dad regularly chose pureed produce over Fritos. Wes and Billie may be cosplaying newlyweds, but Billie hadn’t been there in the days when Wes couldn’t use the bathroom alone because the seizures came so often. When she realized the fullextent of Wes’s health needs, she’d leave. None of Wes’s many girlfriends lasted for long, before or after his accident.
Proving the point, Mack grabbed a large plastic pill sorter from the countertop and shook it in Billie’s direction. “Dad needs to take his medicine first thing in the morning, and he can’t take it on an empty stomach. He should be eating by now.” She cringed at her own harsh tone. No one should be yelled at before eight a.m., even grown women who wore glitter. It wasn’t Billie’s fault Mack tossed and turned last night as Janet Joyner’s words lashed her over and over.
You had that fire.
I saw it then and I still see it now.
When was the last time someone had spoken about her like a driver? Like a competitor and not a caretaker? It was humiliating how much she wanted to believe Janet’s words, how much she wanted to be that person Janet thought she saw.
Mack held out a bowl, contrite. “Oatmeal?”
“It’s kinda gross but I added grape jelly,” Shaw offered helpfully.
Billie gracefully accepted a bowl of lumpy porridge and doctored it with maple syrup—she’d replaced their crusty bottle of Log Cabin with the kind that comes in a real glass jug—before speaking around dainty bites.
“Why don’t I take Shaw to school today and give you a little solo time?” She turned to Shaw with a wink. “You wanna listen to more of the Go-Go’s?”
“Yes!” Shaw shouted. “Can we put the top down on the convertible? Can I have a butterfly sticker on my face, too?”
Shaw’s enthusiasm for all things Billie irritated Mack; no need for her daughter to get attached to someone temporary. “Don’t you want me to walk you in?”
Shaw wrinkled her nose. “Ew, Mom. My friends will think I’m a baby. I’m a fourth grader now.”
Billie rested a manicured hand on Mack’s arm. Her long acrylic fingernails had tiny three-dimensional unicorns and rainbows. “Take alittle time for yourself. I’ll stop at the IGA and grab groceries to make tofu tacos for dinner.”
Mack jerked her arm away from Billie’s touch. She didn’t need mothering from a stranger.
“Morning,” Wes mumbled as he shuffled into the kitchen. Mack heard the screen door slam as she poured her dad a cup of coffee and glimpsed the blur of Shaw’s purple backpack through the window. Billie blew Wes a quick kiss and followed Shaw out the door before Mack could protest. Wes accepted the phantom kiss and placed it on his own lips.Gross.Wes tipped his chin toward the door. “Let Billie take Shaw to school. We gotta talk.”
“We gotta talk,” Mack mocked in a deep voice as she poured a second cup of coffee for herself. She refused to admit that the kind Billie bought tasted better than their usual bargain brand. She jammed two slices of bread in the toaster. “Are you going to nag me about changing the oil in the Bronco? I told you, I’m going to—”
“You seen the news about Kelley?”
Mack’s mouth snapped shut. Hearing the name of Shaw’s absentee father made her feel a dizzying combination of rage and nausea. Shortly after she’d peed on a stick, Kelley received a full-time offer to race in MotoGP, the most prestigious circuit for motorcycle racing, and moved to Spain. He wasn’t there for Shaw’s birth, and had been mostly content to communicate with their daughter only when he felt like it. In her ten years, Shaw had stayed with Kelley for exactly two weeks, and in the aftermath, Mack vowed it would never happen again.
“The MotoGP ride?”
“Yep. Shit floats. That asswipe managed to get another ride in motorcycle racing’s biggest series.” Wes took a bite of the buttered toast she plopped in front of him and spoke with his mouth full. “Can’t decide if I’m disgusted or impressed.”
“Would have been nice if he’d told Shaw himself.” Mack didn’t want her daughter living with Kelley, but she also didn’t want Shaw to grow up without knowing him. Kelley’s approach was more scattershot.They mostly got information about Kelley the way everyone else did: the internet. Last year, they’d found out he’d been injured in a massive wreck on ESPN’s evening highlights.
