Open Wheel

by Shey Stahl

  Hooking a Rut - Speedway tracks aren’t always nice and smooth, in fact they can be extremely rough. A track with a lot of moisture can form huge ruts, and if a car isn’t setup to ride the ruts, the consequence is often a huge crash. What happens is that the car hits the rut and instead of traveling over it, the tire catches the rut, all of the car’s weight is then transferred to the right rear, causing it to roll.

  RAGER AND I flew to Lima, Ohio Wednesday morning.

  The Outlaws were scheduled there for Wednesday, and then it was off to Rossburg, Ohio for a two-night show at Eldora Speedway. Rain had moved through the area and pushed the events back about an hour.

  Inside the merchandise hauler, Hayden handed me this week’s copy of US Weekly. “Have you seen this?”

  I hadn’t, and when I opened it, I wished I never had.

  Just weeks prior to this, a reporter with ESPN did and article on Axel that included numerous derogatory remarks about Axel and my dad. In that same article, the reporter went on to say that Dad had blatantly ignored the rules in the pits at Cottage Grove and allowed Jack to stand where he shouldn’t have. That made it sound like he was standing on the track for Christ sakes.

  That wasn’t how any of that went down, but arguing the validity of the article wasn’t easy. They were in the process of printing a retraction and that reporter had since lost his job, all at the power of Jameson Riley.

  The problem was, the gossip magazines had stories to run with now. And they were.

  If a bright yellow headline wasn’t enough to grab your attention, the photograph on the cover was. It was one of Easton with Genevieve on set, I assumed, holding hands, and then a smaller one of me at what looked to be Volusia, practically in tears over the fight with Axel and holding a radio in hand. Behind me stood Rager, his arms crossed over his chest watching me. The photograph was taken out of context because though it seemed like Easton was cheating on me and I’d turned to Rager, these two situations in the photographs weren’t what really happened.

  The headlines?

  So bad.

  LEVI AND PARIS PUSHING LIMITS OFF THE TRACK

  WHERE’S THE RILEY PRINCESS WHILE HER HUSBAND IS ENJOYING HAPPY HOUR?

  ARIE RILEY LEFT IN THE DUST LIKE HER FATHER’S IMAGE

  Dad’s expression was controlled, for all of two minutes when I walked inside his motor home.

  And then came the anger.

  “What the fuck is going on, Arie?” He held up the magazine, rolled up in his white-knuckle fist. “If I have to read about one more bullshit article related to Easton, he’s done. Who is this woman and why was this printed?”

  “She has an endorsement deal with Atry Sunglasses.”

  His anger didn’t fade. “And where the hell is Alley? Why hasn’t she released a statement on our behalf?”

  I shrugged. My dad was scary when he wanted to be, and right then, he wanted to be. “Goddamn it, first this shit with Axel and Lily, and now you two…what the fuck is wrong with these fucking reporters? Do they not have lives? I never condoned Jack being in the pits. How could they say that?”

  I knew where all this anger was coming from, and it had nothing to do with Easton and I, it was more about that interview with Axel a few weeks back. Only now Dad was throwing a fit about it because every other article after that was feeding on the lies in that one story.

  “I don’t want you in Eldora this weekend. I want you by his side in New Hampshire.”

  I didn’t ask why, because I knew. He wanted me to play into the media’s games and show up there like everything was fine.

  Because as far as my dad knew, everything was fine.

  WHEN I READ that article and the pictures, I wasn’t upset about what they implied about Easton. Stupid fuck was cheating on her long before he asked for the divorce. I knew it, but couldn’t prove it.

  What pissed me off was this, her standing before me telling me she was going to see him. The situation itself pissed me off, and I was left not knowing how to feel about it, besides being upset that we couldn’t change it.

  Part of me wished we could have resolved this by simply talking. But then again, it seemed any time we opened our mouths, what we needed to say was just a string of bullshit excuses.

  I held her stare for a long beat as she stood there, staring at me. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Where does this leave us?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, eyes on the floor.

  Look at me, damn it! Give me something. You take so much from me, at least give me the chance to see your eyes when you break my heart, again.

  “Are you going to stay with him?” I was pressing for answers she didn’t have or maybe didn’t want to say.

  Don’t say it. Don’t be with him. Be with me.

  Arie’s head jerked back in disgust. At first, she offered me nothing, no words, like I wasn’t good enough. The thought that I wasn’t good enough punched at my heart, gave my blood a rush as it pumped through my veins. “It’s not that I’m staying with him.”

  Bullshit. It’s all fucking bullshit and she knows it.

  My eyes immediately went to the ring that remained on her finger.

  I hated that tiny piece of metal, fucking hated it, because it told me I was too late. I let that opportunity slip away. Like a race I’d constantly ran second in. I could have shown her I wanted her. I could have stopped the wedding, begged her to stay, gave more of myself, but I didn’t in fear it wasn’t what she wanted. And now that ring haunted me.

  I turned away, my gaze on the wall. “Why did you come away with me?”

  Give me truth. Give me something.

  I heard the sniff, the gasp, the moment she had to face reality and turned, despite willing myself not to. I didn’t want to look at her but I had to. My heart dropped when I saw her tears again, and I tried to ignore it, but couldn’t.

  Don’t love her. Don’t.

  “Honestly, Rager, I can’t announce the divorce right now and not hurt my family in the process. Or I would,” she admitted, and my heart sunk a little more.

  “You know that’s not what bothers me about this, right?” I asked, my hands finding her cheeks to make her look at me. “It bothers me that he has control over you. He knows he does too. He’s doing all of this for himself. He’s being manipulative. It has nothing to do with you or your family.”

  She wouldn’t look at me then, dropped her eyes from mine.

  Come on, baby. Give me something. You take and take from me. At least give me something in return.

  Arie nodded, still never lifting her eyes. “I know.”

  She knows? What the fuck? I wanted to shake her back to reality. Make her see that what she was saying meant nothing.

  And then those beautiful grass green eyes raised, and wrecked me.

  My eyes squeezed shut and I knew she saw the pain before I denied her the sight. “Do you believe what you’re saying?” For once, my words weren’t in my way. My head hung, my body wanting to give out, fall before her and beg her to just put me out of my fucking misery.

  Arie was a strong woman, much stronger than she ever gave herself credit for. She was that girl, the one who would be the first to fight for something she believed in, much like her father, but deep down, she had no idea who she was inside. And she wasn’t fighting for me.

  Finally, after ten years, she gave me some truth. “Yes, I do.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have started anything with Arie. But then again, I also couldn’t bring myself to care, because one night was better than never.

  “Now what?”

  “NOW WHAT?” RAGER asked, demanding more.

  My hands steadied a little as I stood there with uncertainty. “My dad wants me to go to New Hampshire and put the rumors to rest.”

  He swallowed, heavily. “To be with him then?”

  My face heated with guilt. “It’s not like that. My dad asked me to go.”

  “Why can’t you just t
ell him about us? I’m sure he’d understand.”

  My legs started shaking. Breathing too fast, the action too much, my knees threatened to buckle under the pressure. “You know I can’t.”

  “No, I don’t. All I know is the bullshit you keep feeding me, but why? Do you really plan on leaving him or is this just something where you’re getting some from me and him?”

  “Why can’t you just understand this?”

  “I thought I was understanding it.”

  “No, you’re making me feel bad. I told you in the beginning that Easton and I weren’t telling anyone until the divorce was final. If the media got wind of this, which they have to a degree,” I held up the US Weekly in my hand, “it would be just one more jab at my dad.”

  His head tilted sideways and his brows knitting together as though he was in pain. “What was this then?” His voice broke a little at the end as he nodded a couple times. “I should have seen this coming, shouldn’t I?”

  “Rager, it’s not like that. This shit is complicated. I can’t just walk away from him forever. We can’t tell anyone about the divorce. Look at all the shit going on with Axel and Lily, and now all this negative press against my dad. Do you really think now is a good time?” I felt the tears pooling and threatening to spill any second. “We’ve known for a while it would come to this.”

  “Is this really about your family, or you?” He squinted, as if the sun was in his eyes, but it was just a ploy to stop his glazed eyes from revealing the emotion he didn’t want me to see.

  My tears couldn’t be helped; they slid down my heated cheeks. They felt cool compared to the temperature of my face. “I never meant to hurt you, but you knew I couldn’t just leave him right now completely…” I let out a whoosh of breath as I tried to continue, but couldn’t.

  Rager cocked his head, staring at me, holding my gaze. I said nothing more and neither did he.

  “So I tell you I love you, and now you’re going back to him.”

  “Don’t see it that way.”

  “I have no other way to see it when you’re the one leaving!” he yelled, his eyes blazing, pain evident as his stare held me.

  “I’m still technically married to him.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “I can’t just—”

  Rager slammed the wrench he was holding against the side of his hauler. “You don’t think I fucking know that, Arie! If anyone knows you’re married, it’s me.” His voice was hard as he stepped closer, his breath blowing across my face. “I want to leave you alone. I don’t want to be this guy. But you’re here, all around me, haunting me. You do things, say things...you suffocate me without even trying.” His voice was lower, just above a whisper, as his eyes that held mine dropped to the floor. “I want to leave you alone...” He nodded. “But I can’t.”

  He had every right to be angry, especially after this weekend.

  “Do you remember the day you told me you were marrying him?”

  I wasn’t understanding where this was going, where he was leading the conversation but I knew enough about Rager to know it wasn’t by accident. He had purpose for everything he said and did. “You said nothing to stop me.”

  “That’s not true.” His head shook, forcefully. “I said you won.”

  “So?”

  “Do you even understand what that means?”

  “No.” I admitted, truthfully, despite the sting. I didn’t know what it meant. Wasn’t sure I ever would.

  “And you still don’t.” Breathing in, his chest swelled. “Leave,” he told me when I reached for him. His voice was pleading as he held up his palms.

  “Why?”

  “Goddamn it, Arie!” he screamed, voice blistering my skin, trying to make me see what I was doing to him by being here. “Leave! You said you were going to him, GO!”

  “I know what you’re feeling and I’m—”

  He spun around, his finger pointing accusingly at me, his breathing so heavy he could barely get out the words. “You don’t know a fucking thing about what I’m feeling, princess.”

  Turning to walk away, I paused at the door. “You know me being with him is just a cover right now. You know what’s behind it. You’re my ending in this.”

  “Am I?” he yelled when I opened the door and stepped out of the hauler. “Because right now I just feel like a supporting character being strung along by the princess and her NASCAR knight.”

  He had every right to feel that way.

  ON THE WAY to the airport, the argument with Rager replayed in my head, over and over again. My life was starting to resemble a Jerry Springer episode. My husband and I were getting a divorce, he was clearly seeing someone else, and I was knocked up by another man.

  Yep, Jerry Springer.

  When I arrived in New Hampshire Motor speedway in Loudon Friday morning, Easton was in his motor coach, looking awfully surprised I was at the track.

  Panic lit his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Playing wife.” I held the magazine up in the air. “This isn’t working, Easton.”

  “I know that.” He looked up at me, carelessly.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “Just keep it up. We only have six more months and it’s final. We won’t have to pretend any longer.”

  “Easton, we can’t have things like this.” I threw the magazine at his chest with some force. Stupid jerk. “Are you seeing her?”

  “No. I’m not,” he said dismissively, heading for the door. “I have qualifying.”

  Easton left for qualifying and whatever else he did at the track when I wasn’t there these days. Most of which he spent signing autographs and sponsorship appearances.

  What threw me, and maybe why Easton was so surprised that I was in town, was that this particular race was sponsored by Atry. The same company who had an endorsement deal with Genevieve. Which meant she was here.

  Genevieve Paris.

  I hated the way the name rolled off your tongue, but even more, what she looked like in person.

  Dressed in white, skin-tight pants, black heels, and a low-cut top, she was walking toward me as Lexi and I wandered around the paddock with her kids.

  “That’s Genevieve,” Lexi said, with a roll of her eyes.

  That’s her? The woman from the commercial?

  “You know her?”

  “I wouldn’t say I know her. She comes to a lot of these races. And your husband is her favorite driver.” There was some annoyance in Lexi’s tone, but it wasn’t like she was implying anything. That I could tell.

  When the model was close enough, I realized she was like six fucking feet tall and really young looking. Legs that seemed to be nearly as long as my entire body, her dark hair flowed down to the middle of her back, curled at the ends and not a single strand out of place.

  She’s had work done. No, she’s twenty-two dumbass. Of course she’s going to look young.

  “You must be Genevieve?” I asked in a tight voice. If I could have gotten away with pronouncing her name wrong, I would have.

  She blinked in surprise. Long dark lashes fluttered, revealing her tension at having me talk to her, like I was some kind of crazy fan.

  Pfft. She fucking wished.

  “And you are?” Her lips moved around the words, spoken with a soft voice and nothing like the rougher rasp I had for a girl. It sounded like whore moaning at the tops of my lungs was something I did often, leaving me with a rasp similar to my dad’s. I never thought I had a voice worthy of uttering sexy words in the heat of the moment. What I had was a smoker’s voice.

  And this chick sounded like she had a nightingale in her windpipes.

  “Easton’s wife.” I stuck my hand out, waiting for her to shake it when I noticed Easton standing near us signing autographs, his stare on me and the model.

  Guilt warmed her cheeks. “Oh, right. I knew that. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Sure it is, bitch.

  Much like my dad, I could be an asshole to people too. “I
saw that commercial with you and my husband. You looked great.”

  Genevieve laughed, the sound almost musical. “Thank you. E was amazing.”

  I bet he was.

  Hold up.

  E?

  Fucking E!?

  She was referring to him by the nickname I gave him?

  When my gaze landed on Easton, he looked uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure what to make of the interaction.

  Shooting him a wicked smile, I faced the model again. “Well, I should be going.”

  “WHAT WAS THAT about?” Easton asked the moment we returned to his motor coach.

  “Just acting like your wife.”

  Hastily, he took a step toward me, his expression one of anger. “Should I act like your husband then?”

  “Do you even know how?”

  He snorted, the action shaking his shoulders. “I know about as much as you.”

  “Are you seeing her?” I asked again, curious if his answer would be different this time. Wondering at what point I would be given some truth.

  Easton didn’t move, didn’t even blink at what I asked him. He looked as annoyed as I felt. “No,” he answered, his tone devoid of any emotion.

  His eyes held mine and I couldn’t look away.

  “Wow, did you practice that look in the mirror, E? Or have you became that good of an actor you can lie to my face so easily?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “How long has it been going on?” I wasn’t giving up. “Were you sleeping with her when my mom was battling cancer? Or what about when we were trying to have a baby? Or I know, when Jack died and I needed you the most?”

  Nothing. For fifteen long seconds, he replied with nothing.

  “Did you have a nice time in Sarver?” His jaw flexed, his chest expanding with a deep breath.

  How could he have known that?

  “Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “I bet you had a nice time, didn’t you?” he sneered, trying to piss me off, spin this in his direction. “You know, when you leave a dirt track with him, you should be more careful who sees you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked stupidly.