“The window,” she admitted. “We need to talk, Trip.”
“We can talk tomorrow at the track. Go home, C.C.,” I said, opening the fridge and snagging myself a cold, long-neck bottle of beer.
“I want to know what really happened that day at Talladega.”
Leaning against the counter, I popped the cap and chugged half the contents as my eyes scanned everything around me. I knew this talk was coming and I would have to explain everything to get her to trust me. I just didn’t think it would be this soon.
“You sure you’re ready to hear it?”
“I need to know, Trip. Ansel showed me the footage. What I don’t understand is why you walked away and why the circuit blamed you.”
Placing my bottle on the counter, I shook my head and seethed, “Fucking Ansel. Should have fucking known.”
Pushing off the counter, I looked around as the past haunted me. From the happy pictures of my parents to the cars that destroyed us. It was all there, from beginning to end, and there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it.
The circuit didn’t just take my future.
It took everything from me.
“I had just taken the checkered flag at Talladega...”
“That’s my boy!” my dad shouted as the crew celebrated my win and adrenaline surged through my veins. The crowd’s roaring cheers reverberated in my chest like the engines still growling in the pits. My dad clapped my back, grinning from ear to ear, pride radiating off him like heat from the asphalt.
For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the glory.
It was everything I’d worked for—my dream, our dream.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
“Later.” He smiled happily. “Tonight we are celebrating!”
“Calvin!” I heard my mom shout and turned as she rushed over to me, throwing her arms around my neck. “You won!”
Hugging her tight, I smiled as my best friend Ansel ran over, damn near tackling the both of us.
“You did it, Trip!” Ansel shouted as I held my mom. “Congratulations, man!”
Releasing my mom, I motioned for Ansel to follow me. Away from the crowd, I said, “Ansel, something is wrong with the engine.”
“What are you talking about? The engine is perfect. It just made us millions.”
Shaking my head, I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck. “No, you’re not listening to me. On the last lap, I felt it. Something is wrong.”
“Bullshit,” Ansel clipped. “You designed that damn engine. It’s perfect, and today just proved it.”
“Ansel, listen to me,” I insisted. “Something is wrong with the damn engine!”
My best friend narrowed his eyes. “Don’t fucking do this to me, Calvin. I’ve invested too much into that damn engine. You said it was perfect. You said nothing was wrong with it. Hell,even Crane signed off on it. And you know how damn picky he is. I’ve got investors lined up to buy the prints. If they sniff something wrong, they will back out of the deal, and we will lose everything.”
“I just want to check. Let me take it apart.”
“No!” Ansel roared, getting in my face. “You may have designed that engine, but I own it. It’s mine. That engine is perfect just the way it is. Leave it the fuck alone.”
“If I’m right, Ansel, and it blows, it could kill someone.”
“It’s perfect!” my best friend shouted, walking away from me. “Leave it the fuck alone!”
Knowing I was right, I headed back into the crowd and found my dad hugging Mom as they celebrated my win. “Dad, we really need to talk.”
