Drift Heat

by Adrian R. Hale

  I’m brought out of my car porn contemplation by a mass groan from the crowd. I snap my eyes up to the track and focus on Charlie and Rodrigo. Charlie’s bumper is dragging the wall of a turn, sparks and smoke flying over the fenders. He exits the turn and over corrects the opposite direction, clearly fighting damage to what I assume have to be his suspension or the tires. Just as I complete that thought, his back tire comes unbeaded from the rim, the metal making contact with the ground and causing an arc of sparks to light up the track as he finishes his run. Oh shit, the judges are not going to award him favorably for that. Your car must remain in perfect working order throughout the heat to move on. That tire coming off is a major no-no.

  Secret joy bubbles up inside of me, knowing Charlie will not be advancing to the next round. I don’t have to wait for Charlie’s team to call a competition time-out to fix the tire because that was their second heat. The judges do in fact agree with me and allow Rodrigo to move forward. This competition just got very interesting. Griffin, Wyatt, Rodrigo, and Mason will be our final four drivers for the final fight of the American Drift League’s California Circuit. Whoever leaves with the most collective points will enter the national circuit with a higher standing and more favorable odds to do well. Anyone who qualifies high enough for the ADL pro circuit can compete, but those who take their regional circuits overall always seem to do much better at the national level than those who just squeak by.

  There is a minor delay as the bracket is figured out for the final four rounds. When it is announced that Wyatt and Rodrigo, and Mason and Griffin will be the matchups, I’m bouncing in my seat, nearly beside myself with excitement. Griffin can race Mason in his sleep. After watching Rodrigo, I’m sure he wouldn’t have advanced had Charlie not had a mechanical error that cost him his heat. Wyatt may not have much experience racing Rodrigo, but he has the skills to effectively shut him down. Or at least that is my hope.

  Marny and I clasp hands and silently wait for Wyatt and Rodrigo to line up. It’s a beautiful sight as the early evening sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting that magic hour sunshine over the Southern California landscape. It creates an ethereal glow made more stunning by the clouds of smoke lingering over the track. Wyatt leads right off the bat, performing as expected. Rodrigo has the car and skills to keep up, but he’s just not quite as good. He hits an over exaggerated angle through a few turns, not following as closely to the line Wyatt set. His bumper doesn’t come as close to the wall, whereas Wyatt manages to drag his gracefully along the concrete barriers without doing any serious damage. When they line up for their second round, I am confident that once again Wyatt can outperform Rodrigo. The 350Z manages to keep up beautifully with the Silvia, mimicking each line and angle Rodrigo throws down throughout the course.

  “He took it. Both rounds. He totally nailed them,” I say, shaking my head in happy disbelief.

  Marny nods vigorously, crossing her legs and leaning onto her knee. “He’s made such awesome improvements this season. During practice in the off-season, he was way more timid and made more mistakes. We knew that his debut season in the ADL would be interesting because he has the skills and talent, but we had no idea he would do this well.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “Paul recruited him last season after watching some of his Pro-Am races. He was down in SoCal racing here because he felt like the California regionals would be a better fit for him than Texas.”

  “Wyatt is from Texas?” I ask in disbelief. I had no idea. I twist my hair around my fingers and wonder if there was anything that would have given it away. Nope. I have never asked if he was a California native or not. I just assumed he was, like everyone else on the team. “He doesn’t even have an accent. I imagined all Texans would have thick drawls and say y’all every other word. That is so surprising to me. How did he end up out here?” I swipe sweat from my hairline and look back at the track as the announcers award higher points to Wyatt, sending him on to face the winner of Mason and Griffin’s round.

  We cheer and clap for Wyatt as he drives off the track. Marny settles back on the bench next to me and looks over.

  “He’s from Austin. I don’t think many Austinites have thick accents. That’s more rural Texas. He was stationed at Edwards Air Force Base in Lancaster. I guess when he was discharged he decided to stay in Southern California because he has some family in Huntington Beach, which is how he ended up racing out here.”

  “You learn something new every day,” I muse to myself, my mind completely blown after learning about this new side of Wyatt, my sweet, gambling, nice guy who looks fantastic in glasses and would have made an excellent boyfriend if I had even a little more interest in him. Now I can add that he has a military past and Texas roots. I shake my head, refocusing on the track as Griffin and Mason line up.

  This could go to either of them. They have proven race after race that they are evenly matched and it’s difficult to pick one over the other to win. I want Griffin to make this a third win over Mason, but who knows. I send up a silent prayer for no mechanical issues and a level head for Griffin as he starts off the heat following Mason’s FR-S in his Supra. When they complete their first heat, I honestly can’t decide who performed better. Mason leading and Griffin following almost identically makes it tough to pick a winner. From what I understand, the following car will be seen as the better driver if they can stick close to the lead car and hit all of the same angles and lines. It’s much easier to set the pace than it is to mimic it. As they line up for their second round, I hope Griffin can pull something out of his ass that will convince the judges he performed better and deserves higher points.

  Griffin leads this heat, starting out of the gate aggressively and launching into a killer drift through the first set of turns. Mason, predictably, lags a tiny bit, creating a gap between the cars that he makes up in the straightaway that passes the stands. I am drawn to my feet by an invisible force as they hit the next set of turns, the smoke billowing from their tires and making it almost impossible to see their directional transition. I grip the railing in front of me, leaning into it as if my mere proximity to the track will induce a better run for Griffin. As they exit the smoke cloud, I see them once again transition, Mason not as close to Griffin’s bumper as he was when they entered. I like this space gap, as it favors Griffin for the judges. Entering the final section of the track, Griffin is on fire, creating more space and distancing himself from Mason as he hits each turn with perfection.

  I know for sure that Griffin took that second heat. It’s up to the judges to decide if it was enough to award him higher points or ask for one more round from them because they were so evenly matched. I sit myself back on the bench next to Marny, pulling my miniskirt down my thighs as far it will go so I don’t burn the skin off my legs on the hot aluminum and fiddle with the lanyard of my VIP pass. My entire body is covered in sweat from the heat and nervous anxiety.

  “The judges are sure taking their time. They must be having a hard time with the points. That was such a close round, I would not want to be in their position right now,” Marny says, sitting on the hands she was just smoothing down her thighs.

  “Seriously,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off the track.

  “I’m so torn over wanting him to win or not. If he does, he and Wyatt will be driving against each other, and that will have me even more conflicted over who to root for. God, this is torture,” she says loudly, eyeing the judge’s booth at the end of the stands.

  “The judges scores are in. Thanks for waiting, folks,” the announcer says, continuing to draw out our suspense. “With ninety-two points, Griffin McGregor will advance to the next round. Mason Bauer came in right behind him at ninety-one points, so this was a very close call. He will take third place with that score. Now let’s take a short break to let the Smoke and Mirrors team change tires and get both of their cars ready for one last round. What an unbelievable fight tonight!”

  I clutch Marny’s arm and bounce in
my seat as the announcer drones on. “Holy shit! Both of our guys made it! This is amazing!”

  “Should we go back to the pit?” Marny asks.

  “No, they set up a pit on the track for maintenance in between rounds and will be handling the cars there instead of going back to the pit in the exhibitor area. We won’t get a chance to see them until this is all said and done,” I explain, scanning the track for our black and purple tent where the Supra is jacked up getting tires changed and the Z is having some sort of maintenance performed. I see both Wyatt and Griffin lending their muscle to the quick change and going over their cars before they have to make it back to the starting line.

  This is crazy. I can’t even imagine what the energy in the pit is like right now. Are they acting civilized and like a team? Are Griffin and Wyatt at each other’s throats because of the competition? It’s difficult to say for sure, not knowing what headspace Griffin is in. If he’s back to his early in the season cocky ways, he could be trying to get in Wyatt’s head to play mental games with him before they even line up. If he’s being the more mature guy who has shown up recently, he might not be saying anything at all. I don’t know what I would prefer.

  “How am I supposed to choose who I want to win? This is madness. I mean, either of them winning would be awesome, but it’s too bittersweet to have one lose,” I say in Marny’s direction, keeping my eyes locked on the track. Every minute that stretches out on that sinuous expanse of twisted asphalt has my nerves tangling to match. I feel so close to this race, I could just as well be the one racing for first place.

  “Don’t look at it like that,” Marny says, patting my leg. “Our team wins regardless of who takes first. Our guys will be in first and second place. No other team here can say that has happened for them in this whole circuit. I don’t even think it has happened at the national level in the American Drift League.”

  “You are so right.” I think about the previous year’s American Drift League series and can’t recall if any one team ever had two drivers take the top two spots. Many teams have more than one driver and often they will do well in the points overall, but this is rare as far as I know. “Marny, this is huge. Mas Boost and Forden and all of our sponsors are going to shit their pants with how great this is for them.”

  I pull my cell out from where I had it tucked under my bra strap and pull up our social feeds. I snap a photo of the track with Griffin and Wyatt lining up and bring it up on Instagram. I caption it “BOTH of our drivers @GriffinMcGDrift and @WyattSMDrift made it to the final fight! We have two amazing WINNERS bringing down the house at #ADLIrw tonight. #SmokeandMirrorsRacing FTW!” I throw in some more hashtags for the event and the ADL and push it to our other social pages as I post it. Satisfied that I am somewhat managing my job, I tuck my phone back into my bra and refocus my attention on the track.

  I’m riveted as the race begins with Griffin leading Wyatt. This is like so many practice races we have completed over the last six weeks, but so much more rides on it. Griffin performs as I expect him to, gunning it from the start, hitting the first set of turns with power and speed that sends him sliding through the S with an almost reckless abandon. He maintains control, just flirting with that danger zone where his traction would be lost and cause him to spin out. He spins his car effortlessly back through the transition. I gasp as Wyatt’s bumper clips the back end of the Supra in the process, but Griffin maintains his composure and doesn’t let the bump alter his course.

  Wyatt is following aggressively, probably because in this race he can be sure of what his opponent will do. They know each other’s driving styles so well it’s almost a detriment now. Griffin manages to shake Wyatt loose in the straightaway, even if it’s a small gap. My hair whips around my face from the wind as they drag their bumpers along the wall near our seats. I can’t stand it any longer. I jump to my feet and rush to the railings, following their progress through the next set of turns. The smoky haze that covers the track makes it harder to figure out what is going on, but when they clear it, Wyatt is once again right on Griffin’s ass. They cross the finish line and head back to the start for their second heat.

  I collapse into my seat, my heart pounding and a sheen of sweat covering my skin. My hands shake with adrenaline as my brain walks me through that run and I analyze each turn, every angle, and figure out how the hell this can be scored. I’ve never seen Wyatt so on top of his game. Griffin is not holding back at all, giving him everything, and yet he managed to not just keep up, but made it look fucking fantastic.

  People are talking excitedly around us as the announcers read my thoughts and say the exact same thing about Wyatt.

  “Wyatt is on fire! Where the hell has he been hiding this driving?” Marny says, frantically fanning herself with her crumpled flyer.

  “This means more to him than any other matchup or race could,” I respond slowly. “He has more to prove. Griffin has consistently hit the podium throughout this circuit. Wyatt was finding his footing and has been doing better with each competition. Coming up against a more experienced racer, his teammate at that, he wants to show that he is just as good of a driver and worthy of that top spot on the podium.”

  He may also be proving something not so obvious to anyone else. He asked me why I picked Griffin. It must have hurt him more than he let on that I chose Griffin when he was just as good of a catch, maybe better if you look at their histories on paper. He developed a crush that I fed because I liked the attention. Maybe he thinks he wasn’t good enough for me, so maybe he’s trying to prove that at least he is just as good of a driver, even if I chose someone else. It’s all conjecture and my mind overthinking every step of the way, but it’s a possibility for why Wyatt is pushing it so hard now. That or he just wants to win so fucking badly.

  They line up again with Wyatt leading this round. It looks as if Griffin is playing it less aggressively as he chases Wyatt into the first set of turns. They initiate drift in a flawless dance that looks so smooth and practiced. Wyatt backs off his speed, causing Griffin to have to tap his brakes, breaking drift just before they change directions.

  “Oh, fuck,” I breathe as my nails dig crescents into my palms.

  Griffin losing his angle like that will cost him points. He’s probably pissed. The angry roar of the engines and the shrill scream of the tires are louder than ever as they pass our section, Griffin mere inches off of Wyatt’s bumper. There is no way to be certain, but I can just imagine that Griffin’s face would be completely composed, at his most focused and intense. Wyatt tends to let his emotions play across his own face as he drives, giving you a peek into what he is feeling.

  There’s no way Griffin is allowing Wyatt to force him to make any more mistakes this round. He’s more aggressive in the second half of the course, not letting Wyatt create space between their cars and even tapping his bumper through a transition. Wyatt wobbles a bit, almost losing traction and breaking drift enough to have to over correct before he can resume his push toward the finish line. Each of them breaking drift during this heat puts them dead even in my head, but who knows what the judges will say. They cross the finish line and head back toward the pit, waiting to see if the judges will ask for one more round or be able to declare a winner from those two heats alone.

  I’m back on my feet and nearly hugging the railing without realizing I have ever left my seat in the stands. Marny comes to stand next to me. She grips my hand as we silently wait with the rest of the crowd. Well, we stay silent as the crowd positively bellows their thoughts and chant for one more round.

  “That was a hell of a race. We would not like to be in the judges’ seats right now, because those Smoke and Mirrors guys just gave us one epic round that shows what excellent drivers they are,” the announcer says.

  I nod along in agreement. Wyatt and Griffin just blew me away and I have seen them drive countless times now. I thought I knew what each was capable of. I had their driving styles figured out, and yet they just went and turned that on its head
by changing tactics to play with each other. I know there won’t be another round as Griffin and Wyatt drive across the track toward the stands after it is radioed to them that they will not need to race again. A small measure of relief surges through me. Another round would have been just as difficult to decide.

  “We have the judges’ cards in now. It looks like they were able to score those amazing rounds well enough to not need another round. Your winner for the Irwindale final showdown is—” he cuts off, causing my heart to skip a beat as I nearly pee my pants in anticipation. “From Smoke and Mirrors Racing out of Newport Beach, California, Wyatt Parker!”

  I push myself up onto the railing, my happiness pouring out of me in the form of a long, loud, woo girl scream that has Marny clutching my side and screaming along with me. We throw our arms around each other as we jump up and down in the stands. I let her go and look back at the track as Griffin and Wyatt climb out of their cars. Just as soon as my happiness has escaped my body, it is replaced by an almost violent disappointment that wipes the smile right off my face. Poor Griffin. I can’t imagine how disappointed he must be to have lost if this is what I am feeling after just watching that fight to the finish.

  In a move that is so far removed from anything I could have possibly imagined, Griffin has the biggest smile on his face as he approaches Wyatt. The bear hug Griffin captures Wyatt in is so authentic and genuine I can feel their relationship cementing from the stands. Wyatt looks overjoyed as they clap each other on the back and then break apart as Griffin holds his arm over their heads. Griffin is beaming and talking to Wyatt, who nods along and once again hugs Griffin.