At least now Rick was tolerating her presence. He no longer made things difficult for her. And, on the surface, they were friends. So what had turned out to be no more than a dalliance between them had brought about some good changes, at least.
The team had been invited to a cookout at the home of one of Big Boy’s franchisers before the race in Martinsville, Virginia. Liz almost didn’t go, knowing it would be one of those evenings where she’d be thrown with Rick at every turn. It was as though people expected them to be joined at the hip when they were at social functions. If a question were asked of Rick, she was called into the conversation, and vice versa. But she couldn’t think of a polite way to avoid being there.
As it turned out, just as she had feared, Liz found herself seated at a picnic table with Rick and their host.
They made the usual small talk, with Liz remarking how she loved the cool green mountains of Virginia and marveling over the friendliness of the people. Rick added to the conversation by saying he was reminded of his home state, Georgia.
Harold Barton was the franchiser host, and he asked if Big Boy’s had anything special planned for Rick for the Talladega, Alabama, race in mid-October, only a few weeks away.
Liz told him she didn’t know of anything, her mind slipping back to the race there in April, when, on one of the days preceding, it had rained continuously. She had pretended to drive into Birmingham for something. Rick had said he was going to lock himself in the motor home at the track and catch up on his sleep. He told the crew not to dare bother him. Liz had later sneaked in, and they had spent the entire day with all the curtains drawn making mad, passionate love.
The next morning it was like playing house together when they cooked breakfast. Then Liz had to hurry and leave before the guys came around looking for something to eat.
“Well, that’s great nothing is going on,” Harold was saying. “Because, Rick, I’d like for you to do something special for me. One of my pet charities is the Sheriffs’ Boys Ranch organizations. We’ve got one in Tennessee, and I’ve been asked to see if I could get you to do something for the one in Alabama during race weekend.”
Liz entered her PR mode eagerly to escape the web of nostalgia that had her in its grips. “What did you have in mind? Rick is always glad to help with charities.” She turned to him for confirmation. “Aren’t you?”
He gave a quick nod. “Of course.”
“But it’s kind of late to set up any kind of benefit,” Liz pointed out. “I mean, for that kind of thing you need a lot of advance publicity to sell tickets.”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” Harold said. “I was thinking if there was an evening Rick had free, he could go out to the ranch and visit the boys. They’re all orphans, you see, and being in race country, they keep up with what’s going on.”
Harold chuckled and went on to say Rick would probably find there were a lot of fans for other drivers among the boys. “But don’t be offended. After all, you’re a rookie, and they don’t know much about you, and I thought it’d be nice for them to see a new face, somebody besides the hot dogs.”
Liz instinctively looked at Rick, and they both couldn’t help smiling to hear that term again.
Harold, unaware of the joke, asked, “Did I say the wrong thing?”
“No, no,” Liz assured. “Now tell us, when do you want him to visit? I’ll check the schedule.” She reached for the book she carried with her everywhere she went.
“Thursday would be good,” he said.
She checked, then said, “That’s fine. He’s got qualifying, but that should be over by four. How about if he goes directly to the ranch from the track? I’ll be doing a press release, and you won’t need me, anyway.” She was not about to go with him if she could get out of it.
But, as it turned out, she would not be so lucky.
Harold explained, “I’d like to have both of you, if you can make it, Liz. All the other drivers took PR people, and, believe me, it’s a help when it comes to lining up the kids for autographs, passing out souvenirs and so forth. And we’ll make a little party out of it. I’ll have the local Big Boy’s deliver pizza.”
“Fine,” Liz said thinly, thinking all the while how the last thing she needed was to attend a party with Rick…or attend anything with him, for that matter.
Rick was leading in rookie points going into Talladega only by a very small margin. But when he won the coveted pole position, he found himself the center of media attention.
Liz was thrilled, along with the crew, but as the reporters kept hovering around Rick after time trials ended, she glanced at her watch and began to worry about getting to the party at the Boys Ranch on time.
First there were the interviews in the garage, and then she went with him to the big press box on the other side of the track. As part of her job, she repeated into a microphone questions that Rick was asked so everyone present would know exactly what he was addressing when he spoke. Finally she had to end it, much to the groans of the press.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “But Rick and I have a date, and—”
She was drowned out by a burst of laughter, and someone shouted, “Hey, we’ve been wondering when you two would get around to it.”
That started a lot of good-natured teasing, and Liz tried to go along with it, all the while feeling terrible. She knew it had to annoy Rick, and he might blame her for not having made the announcement in a different way. Covering racing was a hard, tense job, and the guys leaped at any chance to kid around and have a good time.
“It’s not like you think,” she said when the teasing died down. Then she explained where they were going, and soon they were able to leave.
“Sorry about that,” she said as she and Rick hurried to her car, which she’d left parked in the infield lot. “But those guys are a bunch of clowns. I hope you aren’t mad.”
“Why would I be mad?” he said quietly, calmly.
“Because I said it the way I did.”
“So? We do have a date, and if they want to take it another way, who cares?”
She waited till they were on their way, following the map Harold had given them down a dusty dirt road, before mustering the nerve to comment. “Well, I think it bothered you the last time I said something the wrong way.”
He was driving and gave her a quick glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Liz.”
“Forget it,” she said, pointing to the crossroads just ahead. “Turn to the right.”
He could empathize with her misery, because he was trying to cope with his own. And he knew what she was talking about—how she’d said too much on the plane. But he didn’t want to discuss it, afraid he’d give his true feelings away.
And, Lord, he did love her.
The past weeks had been a special kind of hell.
So many times he had wanted to pick up the phone and call her or show up on her doorstep. But he hadn’t dared. It had to be this way.
They drove on to the ranch in silence. Several times he thought she was about to say something but didn’t. He was just going to have to make sure that in the future they did not wind up in a car alone together for any reason. In fact, he was going to try all the harder to keep his distance, fearing that sooner or later he might yield to temptation, crush her in his arms and kiss her till they were both breathless.
Then there would be no turning back.
If that happened, he would ask her to marry him, and should she say yes, he would want to do everything in his power to make it work…which meant returning to a normal job, a normal life.
And he just didn’t think he could do it.
The kids were great and very appreciative Rick had come to visit. They were even more impressed when they learned he had won the pole for Sunday’s race.
Liz passed out special children’s press kits she’d had made up, along with caps and T-shirts with the team logo. She also gave them miniatures of Rick’s number sixty race car.
Harold was th
ere, and, as promised, they enjoyed a big pizza party and even had ice cream and cake afterward.
On the ride back to Anniston, where their motel was located, Rick used his cell phone to call Mack. He kept him on the line, talking about things that might sound important to Liz but were foolishness to Mack.
“Listen, why are you blabbing on and on about nothing?” Mack complained sleepily. “Just because you won the pole today doesn’t mean you don’t have to be up early in the morning like the rest of us.”
Still Rick kept him on the phone till the motel was in sight. There was no chance for conversation with Liz, which was what he had intended.
But, as she started to get out of the car, she yielded to her own temptation and bluntly asked, “What happened between us, Rick?”
“Uh…I don’t know,” he hedged. He had opened his door and was about to step out. “I guess it just wasn’t working.”
“I guess not,” she said quietly. She knew she probably should have kept her mouth shut but couldn’t help it any longer. “It’s just that we seemed to be having a great time together, and all of a sudden there was nothing.”
“Things started getting too heavy, Liz,” he murmured, not sure what to say. He damn well wasn’t about to admit he’d backed off because he had stupidly gone and fallen in love with her.
“They weren’t getting heavy on my part,” she was quick to lie. “And it’s okay that you ended it. I just don’t want you thinking I expected more than you were willing to give.”
Rick was feeling very uncomfortable. “Why, no, it wasn’t anything like that. We were just having a good time, and, besides, we never should have gotten involved to start with. But at least we’re adults about it, right?” He forced a smile.
“Sure,” she replied edgily. “I just thought—”
He cut her off. “Liz, wait…there’s something you need to know.” He was floundering for words, floundering for an answer out of the mess he’d allowed himself to get into.
The lights around the parking lot filled the car with a mellow glow. She looked at him, bewildered. “I’m listening.”
He swallowed hard and glanced everywhere but at her. “I’m seeing somebody else.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak as a lump came in her throat.
“We’d sort of lost touch, but then we ran into each other again.” His words were coming fast as the lie came to him. “Actually, it was at the airport in Charlotte that night we flew in from California. We got to talking and, well—” he shrugged “—we got together again, and that’s how it’s been.”
Liz squeezed her nails into her palms to keep from bursting into tears. “Well…well, I’m happy for you,” she managed to say. “But why haven’t I met her?”
“She hasn’t been to any of the races.”
“I see. Because of your thing against women hanging around the track, of course.” Her tiny laugh was edged with bitterness, and she swung back around, unable to look at him any longer.
“Uh, it’s not that.” He had to think fast, could not let her believe it wasn’t serious enough to warrant him breaking his own rule. “She’s a flight attendant. That’s why she was at the airport. Wendy is her name,” he added, thinking fast.
“Well, you be sure to introduce her to me sometime, okay?” Liz was proud of how she could sound so nonchalant when her heart had just exploded like an overheated engine in the middle of a five-hundred-mile race.
She got out and closed the door. Rick did the same, and as they came around the car, she said, “Well, I wish you well, both on the track and off. See you tomorrow.”
He watched her go.
She was wearing tight white slacks and a pale pink blouse, her hair gleaming like spun gold in the street lamps above.
It was all he could do to keep from calling her back, to admit he’d lied and confess how he wanted her, loved her, and that somehow they would find a way to work things out.
But he couldn’t.
Her shoulders were slumped, her head down, and he felt like the world’s biggest heel.
His room was at the opposite end of the motel from hers. He turned in that direction, only to hear her call to him.
With a soft groan, he turned around, praying all the while she wasn’t going to say something to make him tell her how he really felt. She was just disappointed, that’s all, her feelings hurt because he’d dumped her. He didn’t mean anything to her and never had except for a good time. Plus, once they went to bed together the friction between them had ceased. She felt as strongly about her career as he did his own. And even if she had started caring more about him than she should have, she was glad things were under control.
That’s the way it had to be; otherwise, he was in big trouble. Because if she told him it was anything else…
“I want you to know I really don’t care,” she said when she was standing right in front of him. “The fact is, I’m not the kind to sleep around with just anybody, and I’m not ready for a serious romance. If we’d kept on like we were going, though, who knows? I’d probably have fallen head over heels in love with you. You’re a nice guy, Rick. But I’m just not ready.
“And that,” she said in finality, “is what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
And this time, her shoulders did not slump, and she held her head high.
Rick quickly went to his room and, for a long time, sat in the dark, telling himself over and over he had done the right thing. Because now he knew she didn’t really care for him, so he was wise to have acted as he did.
But it didn’t ease the pain over losing her.
Liz slept little and had cried so much during the night that her eyes were terribly swollen. She was glad it was a sunny day so she could wear sunglasses without anyone wondering why.
She went to the track but stayed in the infield media room where it was cool, and where she could also avoid being around Rick.
But she still couldn’t get him off her mind. And now she knew why he hadn’t shown up that night…why he had totally dropped her.
He had someone else.
A writer from Virginia came up to Liz and told her he needed to talk to Rick for a sidebar in Sunday’s paper. “It’s a big deal, him winning the pole. But even with that, it looks like it’s going to go down to the wire with Blevins for the title at Atlanta. That’s only three races away after this one, and I wanted to get Rick’s thoughts.”
Liz knew the schedule by heart—Rockingham, where she and Rick had made love in the RV the night Gary Staley presented it to the team, then back to Arizona before heading to south Florida for the race at the Miami-Homestead Speedway.
“I guess you’ll be chewing your nails for the next few weeks, huh?”
Liz, lost in her musings, had to stop and think what he was talking about, then responded, “Yes, I guess I will.”
“Maybe I should do a story on the two of you—how you’re both finishing up your rookie season. You probably have a lot to say about what it’s like to be a woman PR rep on the racing circuit. What do you say? Good press for Rick and even more so for the sponsor.”
Liz was not about to allow herself to be exploited in such a way but let him down gently so as not to offend. “I would much rather Rick get all the publicity, if you don’t mind. And I’ll be glad to set something up. When did you want to talk to him?”
He glanced at his watch. “Well, they aren’t doing anything but practicing today, so any time will be fine. I’ll just hang here.”
She tried to call Rick on his cell but couldn’t get through. To save time so she could go on back to the motel, she went to find him herself to tell him about the interview.
As she walked along, she felt the familiar charge of excitement to be a part of the racing world. Crew members and NASCAR officials waved, a reminder she no longer felt out of place. She, too, had become a member of the gypsies and loved it…till now.
She had set h
er cell phone to a vibration for an incoming call rather than a ring she might not hear due to the deafening noise when the cars were on the track. She felt it jiggling in her pocket and went into the café so she could talk.
It was Jeff, saying he’d tried to get in touch with Rick to congratulate him but hadn’t been able to. He also wanted to know what the point spread was between him and Jack Blevins.
“Only a few. I’m afraid it’s going to be real close. He’s going to have to qualify and finish well every race the rest of the season.”
“You think he can do it?”
“Jeff, who knows? Anything can happen. And don’t ask me. Ask Rick or Mack.” She knew she sounded irritable, but she was tired of being chirpy and optimistic all the time. She had swallowed misery and complaints throughout the season. And, feeling so crushed over Rick, her tolerance level was at an all-time low.
Jeff was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you all right?”
“Sure, sure.” She was sitting at a table in the corner and hating the smell of hot grease and cigarette smoke. “I guess I’m just tired of it all.”
There. She had said it. She had opened the door to doing what her heart told her she must—ask for a transfer to another account.
“You just need a vacation, and I’ll see you get one after the season is over. After all, there won’t be much going on till Daytona in February. But you’ll probably want to go to the awards banquet in New York, won’t you? Especially if Rick wins. Isn’t that the first week of December?”
She drew a ragged breath and let it out in an impatient rush. “I don’t know, Jeff. I don’t have my calendar in front of me, but the fact is I want more than a vacation.”
She heard his soft gasp of surprise. “Please don’t tell me you want to be transferred to another account.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
There. She had said it. The words that had been teasing her mind since Rick told her he had someone. She wanted out so she would not have to bear being around him knowing he loved another.
Race To The Altar Page 20