Eddie was right.
She'd managed to get and stay in second. But she wasn't going to beat Mack.
My stomach dropped when he charged across the finish line first, knowing the overwhelming shock and defeat of losing your car. I'd lost two in my career. I'd grown past the point where I was willing to take that chance. Or, at least, I had been until right then.
Playing for pinks was a great way to upgrade your car quickly if you were good enough. If you weren't, it was something that could set you back for a year, or ruin your chances of ever racing again if you couldn't afford a new car.
To her credit, she climbed out of the car, keys in hand, offering them to a gloating Mack. Without crying. Without cursing him out. She just walked back into the crowd.
I hoped she hung around.
I had no use for Mack's car.
And no idea how to track her down to hand it off to her.
"That's you?" Eddie asked fifteen minutes later when I was up. "Since when do you race for... oh," he said, smiling. "Oh, I see how it is. That's why you never try to take my girls," he said, nodding. "You like them thicker girls. I get it, man. Something sexy about a woman who ain't afraid to eat. Alright. Go on. Be the knight in shining steel," he said, moving off with his women back toward his car.
I was surprisingly nervous as I climbed into my car.
I was never nervous when racing.
If anything, it was my stress relief.
I knew I was good.
And I knew very little was at stake.
Maybe I could attribute the anxiety to the fact that, just this once, there was a lot on the line. I'd put an absurd amount of money and time into my car over the past year and a half. It would be damn near irreplaceable if I lost it. Even if I could scrape the money together to pay for a new one. Which wasn't likely. You didn't exactly get the high-paying, legit jobs when you didn't have your papers to do so.
Still, as I strapped in, turning on my radio to help drown out my thoughts, I had a feeling it had nothing to do with my car.
And everything to do with the pretty blonde with the great ass.
Cranking the music up, I flexed my hands on the wheel, watching the flag girl move into the street, raise her bandana.
As soon as her arms fell, so did all my nerves.
I learned young that nothing focused me like major risks did, like adrenaline surges did. I became a junkie as a kid, taking my bike or skateboard up on the highest hill I could find and then flying down it.
My poor, sainted mother had needed to nurse a very injured me more than a few times over the years.
Then, one day, I was old enough to drive.
It was all history then.
I'd taken my little piece of shit car out in the small part of the morning, teaching myself how to handle it, seeing how high I could get my speed.
Attending races led to trying my hand at them.
It was all history from there.
I'd never felt a high anything like getting a car damn near up to two-hundred miles an hour. I wasn't sure anything could feel quite like that.
I was addicted for a long time, making a name for myself, making a shitload of money.
I backed off a bit when a bunch of the regulars stopped wanting to race me, knowing they didn't stand much of a chance. But every few months, the players changed; the young kids came up, more courage than common sense, and were willing to go toe-to-toe with me.
People like Mack. Who I'd just surged past.
The world went strangely quiet when I was behind the wheel. My mind went silent as well. It was maybe the only time my thoughts didn't flip-flop from one thing to the next.
It was my own personal form of meditation.
But it was always over far too soon, letting the world come rushing back.
The cheering of the crowd, the thump of my music, the curses coming from Mack.
"Goddamnit," he hissed, slamming his fist into the hood of his car as we all climbed out.
Donovan appeared out of nowhere, two of his men flanking his sides, always prepared for trouble, for people reneging on their word.
"You know the drill, Mack," Donovan said, tone patient, yet firm.
"I put twenty-fucking grand into this car," Mack raged, pacing.
"I'll settle for the FR-S you won earlier," I told him.
"Why?" he asked, raising a brow. "Why would you settle for a car worth twenty-five when mine is upward of sixty?"
"Why do you give a shit?" Donovan shot back. "Give the man the keys," he demanded.
Seeing his way out, the only way he could keep racing, Donovan went into his car, finding the keys, and tossing them at me, then getting back in his car to drive away before I could change my mind.
"Last I spotted her, she was hoofing it down the road," Donovan supplied, giving me a knowing smile before moving off.
As I got back in my car and drove down the road, catching sight of her blonde hair, I rolled down my window.
Her body stiffened.
A lone woman walking down an abandoned road hearing a car slowing. She had to have been panicking.
"Sass," I called, making her head turn, eyes wide. The panic didn't fall when she saw it was me. Why would it? I was just another random man whose intentions were unknown.
Reaching into the cupholder, I found her keys, shaking them at her.
"What are those?"
"The keys to your car."
"Why do you have them?" she asked, voice tight as she came to a stop, turning to face me fully as I put the car into park.
"Because I won them."
"That makes no sense," she said, shaking her head, reaching upward under the guise of brushing a stray hair out of her face, but it was a tear she was wiping away. Her eyes were puffy, the lashes wet, the pale skin on her cheeks red. "You would have won his car."
"Yeah, well, I made a concession. I didn't need a car. You do."
"Why would you win me my car back? You don't even know me." Her tone was at once accusatory and suspicious.
"Mack's an asshole. Someone needed to take him down a notch or two."
"True," she agreed, snorting. "He grabbed my ass and told me the only place for a woman in a race was in the passenger seat sucking him off."
"Charming," I said, sighing, holding out her keys.
She watched them for a long moment, like they were some kind of trap, before snatching them away. I didn't miss the way she slipped the keys between her fingers.
"What do you want for this?" she asked. And I couldn't exactly fault her for being suspicious.
"Nothing. It's free."
"Nothing is free. Least of all from a guy," she said, brow arching up.
"That's probably unfortunately true," I agreed. "Look, this is a hard scene to break into. Especially for a woman. If you want any help, let me know," I said, going into my car, jotting down my number, and holding it out to her.
"Why would you want to help me?"
"As much fun as it was to beat Mack today, I think it would be that much better to watch you someday beat him. To do that, you'd need some training. And some work on that car. I can help with both. You'll pay for parts. I'll show you how to do the work."
"You're literally getting nothing out of this deal."
"Maybe if you look at it as an offer of friendship instead of a deal, you'd be more comfortable with it."