Page 12 of Off the Grid

“Exactly.” I flash a grin that wins most women over and has them undoing their bras without asking.

It doesn’t work on her.

I may have tried way back when.

I’m glad it didn’t.

“Great. I didn’t hear that.” She covers both of her ears.

“What? You helped with the last one.”

“You mean the video of me frantically trying to talk you out of skydiving? That wasn’t me trying to help you go viral. That was me trying to help you stay alive.”

I hold my hands out to my sides. “I lived.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, is jumping out of a plane with a parachute strapped to my back any more dangerous than me going two hundred miles per hour?”

She gives me a dubious look. “You do know that at some point your contract is going to be revised to forbidding all death-defying feats unless it’s you behind the wheel of their car.”

I flash her a grin. “Great. Guess that means I better get them all in before that happens.”

She rolls her eyes and groans. “You’re annoying.”

“Perfect. That’s what I was going for.” She’s so easy to rile up.

“Try to not get yourself killed, okay?”

“Isn’t that the goal every day?” I shrug as she just shakes her head.

“I’ll see you later, Riggs. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“You know that’s something I can’t promise.” I give her a mock salute and then head to my trailer but falter when I turn.

Sometimes it takes me a second to process the view before me.

The track and its stadium.

The people—fans, track workers, reporters—still milling about the grandstand.

The crews diligently working in the garages and paddock, disassembling all that they’d contributed to create this little city that only lasts a week at a time.

It takes me back to being a kid. To sitting on my dad’s shoulders. To getting to be a part of something so big but being so naïve. I had no clue how big it was.

And now I’m here. Really fucking here.

Well almost here.

Where so many would love to be. So close to my dream itself. So near to the next level I can all but taste it.

I can handle the Harlan Flanders of the world so long as I get to the top.

The years in karting. The endless hours of training. Putting my life on hold to chase down this formidable dream. The heartache and heartbreak with each and every step forward and then two steps back. The begging, borrowing, and stealing to find a means to be here. To live up to the name I wear with pride. To be part of this whole entity.

Spencer Riggs. Formula 1 driver. One of only twenty drivers in the world who have that distinction.

That’s my dream. To feel the growl of the engine behind me, sense the heat of the ground below me, and hear the roar of a sold-out crowd on a Sunday afternoon as I cross the finish line.

I’ll make it there.

I have to.