Drift Heat

by Adrian R. Hale

  And I let him mark me there all he wants.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “And with that score, Griffin McGregor of the Smoke and Mirrors race team will advance to the next round. He managed to put some serious pressure on Danny Rodriguez of Inferno Racing in the lead car with that first line, keeping the nose of his car right against the inner clipping zone of that third turn while his backend nearly grazed the opposite side. It was almost too close to call, but he managed to overtake Rodriguez in the last turn, proving that the new and improved Supra was just too powerful for Rodriguez’s Mazda RX-7. I predict a run at the Pro Championships for this driver. Let’s see if he can make it through this last bracket for a shot at the finals.”

  I listen to the announcers over the roaring crowd while I make my way through the pits. I don’t get a chance to watch most of the competitions because Paul likes me to stay busy interacting with fans and encouraging sponsor discussions. I like to sneak to the stands when I know Griffin or Wyatt will be up, and so far the Sacramento Raceway competition has been successful.

  Both Wyatt and Griffin qualified yesterday to make it to the Sweet Sixteen tandem events and won their first rounds to put them into the top eight. With that last round, Griffin advances to the top four bracket, for his shot at the finals if he wins this next round. Wyatt has yet to complete his second race, so we are waiting to see if we will have two drivers in the top four, or just one. We are stoked with how well Wyatt is doing this week. He keeps getting better with each competition, and we can only hope his record continues to improve.

  I was able to not act any differently around Griffin when we worked together at the shop. We actually managed to still ignore or insult each other, which is definitely our normal. He called me a pushy bitch for telling him to get out of my spot on the plaid couch. I called him a remedial asshole for sitting there in the first place. Paul just shook his head at our exchange.

  That night, Griffin texted to let me know he would be at my door in approximately thirty seconds, and I better be opening it. I went even further, opening the door naked. Later, when we lay together tangled in sweat-slicked limbs, he told me he didn’t really think I was a pushy bitch.

  I poked him in the chest with my finger and told him to stop it. There is no room in my life for a Griffin who says nice things. That would make me totter on my thin line and probably fall to the side that wants something more than no-strings sex.

  We all played cordial on Wednesday and Thursday when we got the cars ready for transport. Wyatt even rode in the black truck with me and Ryan, but he sat up front and kept the conversation pleasantly neutral and didn’t mention Griffin at all. I’m not sure what to make of things. I’m just happy there doesn’t seem to be any lingering tension to deal with. It’s a huge relief to have things feeling as normal as they can be, given that I’m sleeping with Griffin behind everyone’s backs. It feels a little sad, even though I am getting what I want. I’m doing everything my daddy said not to. I’m sneaking around, lying, and sleeping with a race car driver who is on my team. He would disown me if he had even a clue what was going on.

  “Hey, race queen, can we get a photo?” The question stirs me from my thoughts as I pass one of the competitor’s pit areas where their car is maintained between rounds. I look around, thinking it can’t be me they mean, because I don’t think I have the following of rabid fans to be considered a race queen, but I’m the only girl in stilettos around, so I stop and look back.

  “Me?” I say to the guy I assume asked.

  He’s standing at the edge of the easy-up tent and looks like he’s waiting for my response. He’s shorter than me in my heels, probably in his mid-forties, and has some seriously hairy arms. I know dudes don’t really care about their own body hair, but I would totally trim that if I were him.

  “Well, yeah, sweetheart. Come on over. You’re the Smoke and Mirrors girl with the drift skills, right? Did you really build Project Black Sheep, or is that just what the shop wants people to think for attention?”

  I slowly approach Mr. Full of Questions. I make it a point to be polite to everyone I meet, because you never know when being nasty will bite you in the ass.

  “Yes, I work with S&M, and yes, I built the Black Sheep Mustang. I’m Shelby.” I hold my hand out and am rewarded with a firm handshake.

  “I’m Terrance Wheeler. I own TW Motorsports in Santa Monica. We’re privateer too, but only have one driver, Mason Bauer. He’s been doing okay this competition, so we’re just chillin’ here to see how things shake out.”

  Okay, he’s friendly enough. I can work with this. “Nice to meet you, Terrance. Did you really want a photo, or was that your way of getting my attention?” I smile and place my hand on my hip, playing into the role I’m dressed for.

  “I definitely want a picture. The guys at the shop have been following all of your videos and they’re going to die that I got a photo. Will you pose with our car?” He strokes his salt and pepper goatee and smiles.

  I purse my lips and think about his request. I’ve posed with different cars and products at every competition so far. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea, so I shrug my shoulders. “Why not. Looks like a badass Scion FR-S. I haven’t seen too many of them in this circuit. How are you liking it?”

  “Hey, Dave, get out here and take a picture for me,” Terrance yells to the back of their closed trailer. “It’s been a good car. We’re getting really good results with it, and it’s reliable. Maybe it’s a little tough having the newest chassis used in competition, but we’re working on that for the next series.” A buzzed head pops out of the side door, looks our way, and smiles.

  “No shit, you got the S&M girl here? This is rad,” Dave says, pulling out his cell phone as he walks closer.

  “Hi, I’m Shelby,” I say with a little wave. I move toward the FR-S and pose next to it, with Terrance wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his side. Dave snaps a few pictures, then comes over and makes us take a selfie.

  “Did you do all of the driving in the videos you’ve posted?” Dave asks.

  “Yeah. Whenever you see me driving, it’s actually me driving.” I laugh. “I took the Z out in the first video we posted, and Black Sheep is my car, so most of the driving in that is me, with a little Griffin. Otherwise, the videos of the guys on the track doing their thing is all them.”

  “If you ever want to think about leaving the umbrella girl and promo model days behind, you may want to think about a career as a driver. You have so much raw potential with your technical skill and know-how. Maybe you just need to be encouraged to try it for yourself. We could use another driver, especially someone like you who seems to bring attention wherever you go,” Terrance says, his arms crossed over his chest and a serious look on his tanned and lined face.

  “Oh, wow, that’s quite the offer,” I say, completely caught off guard by his proposal.

  I hedge back from Terrance just a bit, like he might start laughing and yell “gotcha!” any second. Did he seriously just offer me a place on their team, as a driver, no less?

  “It was so nice meeting you, Terrance, and Dave. Maybe I’ll see you around at the other events in the California Circuit. I can’t believe we are halfway through already.” I sound happy enough, but inside I’m all oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

  “Take my card. Call me if you ever want to drive. Bring that Black Sheep Mustang with you, and I’ll make sure you get everything you need to make it into the American Drift League as a driver. You shouldn’t be wasting your talent supporting other drivers like this.” Terrance fishes a card out of his pocket and puts it in my hand, curling my fingers around it.

  “It was nice meeting you, Terrance. Good luck with the rest of the competition.” I smile back at him and head away from their pit area. The sharp corners of the card bite into my palm, bringing me a sense of reality. I can’t drive in the ADL. That would be crazy.

  Or could it really be a possibility I just haven’t explored?

&nb
sp; I don’t have a ton of drifting experience, but I do have a solid foundation. With a lot of practice and track time, couldn’t I be just as good as some of these guys?

  There are no professional female drifters in the American Drift League. Women aren’t banned, it’s just really freaking hard to stand out in a sea of talented drivers. The female drifters I have heard about are in Japan, or in the smaller, regional circuits and just don’t make it through to qualify for their pro license like the guys in the ADL have.

  You can search YouTube for female drifters and mostly you will get videos of women riding along in a drift car, sometimes topless or their boobs falling out of their tops during turns. It’s such a sad reality. When I do find videos of women drifting, I get so excited but still haven’t seen the drivers turn up in the Pro series.

  Could Terrance really guarantee that I would make it into the ADL? I shake my head to myself, knowing the answer to that. You can’t. How can you really guarantee anything when it comes to drifting? Driving would easily fit into my dreams of moving up in the racing world, though. I had thought maybe I would start a drift apparel company that would support my goals of growing and doing more while staying in the industry. This seems like a more logical pathway, given I have the Black Sheep already in competition and a racing background that begs to be used.

  “Dang, girl, where ya been?” Ryan asks when I get back to the booth. “Wyatt qualified for top eight. He and Griffin will both be trying to get a spot for the final showdown. We’ve got two of the top drivers on our team, can you believe it?”

  “Oh, wow, that’s awesome! I’m so happy for them. I was just off touring the pits. I stopped to chat with the TW Motorsports team. Have you heard of them?”

  “I think that’s the team Mason what’s-his-name races for. This is their second season in the ADL also. We were up against them a bunch last year and he’s been doing well this year. Why do you ask?” Ryan leans back against our booth and rolls the hoop around his lip while he studies me. I trust Ryan, and I think he would give me a good opinion about Terrance’s offer.

  “Terrance sort of unofficially offered me a spot with their team.”

  “As a promo girl? You would just leave us like that? Man, I thought we were friends.” Ryan laughs and playfully punches my arm.

  “Not for promo. He offered me a spot as a driver. He’s been following our videos and says I have a great foundation and he could get me into the ADL.”

  “Shit, that’s serious.” Ryan takes off his hat and rubs his head. “Is that something you would want to do?”

  I lean next to him and sigh. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about drifting professionally. But now it’s in my head and I’m wondering if it’s even a remote possibility, you know?”

  “Yeah, I can see that. I guess you will have to figure out what you really want, and what the best way to get there would be.” His lips pout and he gets a sad look in his almost black eyes. “I would miss you like crazy. The rest of the team, too. It wouldn’t be the same without you, that’s for sure.”

  “Hey, I haven’t even given the idea serious consideration. I have a contract with S&M for this series, so you have me at least until the California Championships are over.” I pat his shoulder and wink. “Can you do me a favor and not mention this, please? I don’t want anyone to get any ideas that I’m up and leaving and freak out.”

  “Yeah, I can do that. But talk to us before you make a decision, okay? We’re a family and we support each other. If you want to drive, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best.” I lean my shoulder into Ryan’s, and he puts his arm around me as our heads come together. “I don’t know if I want to leave S&M, but it would be stupid to not even consider the idea of driving now that I have the Black Sheep finished and running well in the circuit already.”

  “I know. Trust me, I know.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Looks like we just have one driver advancing to the top four bracket. Wyatt was edged out by fucking Charlie Sweeten. That bastard keeps messing with our points. We need to put him out for good,” Paul tells me when he gets back to the booth.

  “Are you talking about staging some sort of accident to befall him? Is this the Godfather, drift style?” I laugh at Paul’s expression of consideration.

  “No, we just have to figure out a way to get past him if our guys have to compete with him again. He’s been hitting top four at each event, and it’s driving me crazy. I guess I’m still just pissed about the damage he did to the Supra at Long Beach.”

  “Yeah, me too. When is Griffin up for his top four race? I hope he makes it to the finals.” I pick at my cuticles as I wait for Paul to check his phone for the schedule.

  “Looks like just a few more minutes. Want to go down and watch? I can handle the booth, and I know you haven’t seen too many races yet.”

  “Totally. Thanks, Paul. I’ll take swag with me to hand out while I’m in the stands.” I hunt in the booth and pull out an armful of purple lanyards with our info on them. I head off to the grandstand as fast as my super-high shoes let me, edging through the VIP only area with my all-access team pass to get a good spot near the front.

  “Hey, baby, you can sit here if you want,” I hear called from behind me.

  I ignore the catcalls and toss a few lanyards out to the crowd. A few women throw them back at me, hissing about not wanting any cheap crap from fancy whores. I ignore the insults and grudgingly pick them up. I redirect their course so they don’t come back at me from mean ladies intent on making my job harder. Women can be such bitches.

  When the top four races are announced, I head higher into the stands for a better vantage point. Griffin will be going in the second heat, against Hiro Yoshida. The first pairing will be Charlie Sweeten and Mason Bauer of TW Motorsports. I pay special attention to see how Mason drives, but only because he may be going against Griffin later. Right, that’s the only reason I’m more interested in this race. Mason won last week’s Sonoma competition overall. And of course I want Charlie to lose.

  The judges will watch both races and then give their score, or ask for one more round to determine the winner if a race was too evenly matched to call. Drifting is unlike other motorsports because each race is scored by Olympic style judging, rather than who finishes first.

  The Line judge looks for the ideal path a vehicle must take on course and is marked by inner clipping points and outer clipping zones that are set up to push the driver to use the entirety of the course. The Angle judge monitors the overall slip angle the driver uses during each heat, awarding points for pushing the limits in as many places as possible. Transitions from one corner to the next should be as smooth as possible and steering adjustments should be minimal mid-corner. They can award up to twenty-five points, with an additional ten points each granted for style. The designated Style judge looks for the overall smoothness and excitement of the run with aggressive flicks, closeness to walls, degree of difficulty, fluidity, and extreme closeness to the lead vehicle, all for a total of thirty points that can be awarded. This all adds up to give each driver a maximum score of one hundred points.

  The racers are lined up for the first heat, with Charlie leading first. I watch them maneuver the course, with Mason doing a fantastic job applying pressure as the chase car. They seem really evenly matched after the first race. They switch, with Mason leading and Charlie chasing, and this time you see just how much sliding power the fifty-fifty weight ratio of Mason’s FR-S has compared to Charlie’s heavy, newer model Mustang. Stock, the Mustang would handle like a drunk through the corners, but it has been powerfully modded to have advanced him this far.

  The crowd immediately starts chanting “one more time” when the race is over, thinking it was too close to call and needs a third round to determine the winner. I shake my head, knowing Mason took that race. The judges don’t give in to the crowd and give Mason the higher points and send him to the top two round. I jump in m
y heels and pump my arms, happy Charlie lost and hopefully won’t make the podium with a fourth place finish. It all depends on the loser of the next round and their total points. A round of heckling and boos for the judges comes from the audience, but they settle down when Hiro in his Nissan Skyline GT-R and Griffin in the Supra line up.

  I clutch the lanyards in my hand and hold my breath as they take off, Griffin playing chase to Hiro. Griffin and Hiro create a dance of automotive excellence, staying tight together through the turns and pivoting within inches of each other. Griffin gets a few better lines, but Hiro chooses to keep him locked in the follow position with calculated placement to avoid being passed.

  They finish their first pass and line up for their second. Griffin takes off, setting an impressive speed that Hiro lags behind. I just hope it’s not too fast. He starts the turns and gets a sick angle on the curve, fully in control of his car, even at the elevated speed. Hiro just can’t catch him and is forced to stay much farther behind than would be desired for his style points. As long as Griffin doesn’t break his drift or lose his line, he should be good. They cross the finish line and I already know Griffin has won. The judges concur, sending him ahead to face Mason. Unfortunately, Charlie came in third with higher points awarded to him than Hiro received.

  There is a delay between the last race and the finals, so I walk up and down the stands, tossing more lanyards to anyone who hollers or holds up their hands. People love free junk. At least they can put their keys on the end of these glorified purple necklaces. I get asked to pose with a few people, but when the final round is called, I tell them I have to cheer on my team and they leave me alone.

  Having seen Mason drift already, I worry for Griffin. They have similar enough styles, and are both extremely aggressive when chasing. One wrong maneuver and either could bump or cause a crash. Griffin gets to lead first this round, and does an excellent job of keeping Mason securely behind him, even if he has to sacrifice some of the better lines to do it. The judges won’t give him fewer points for that because he is defending his lead position, but the style judge could knock him if he doesn’t at least make it look good. And does he ever make it look good.