Burndown (Nitro Crew Book 1)

by Winter Travers

  Yet. A girl had to be optimistic even when she was a little doubtful.

  *

  Chapter 6

  Remy

  “You park the last truck?”

  I nodded and tossed the keys to Roc. “Parked and locked.”

  We arrived to the track seven hours ago, and we had finally unloaded everything and set up the area for Cummings Racing. “Head over to Brooks and make sure he doesn’t need anything.”

  “Don’t you think I should be helping make sure the car is ready?” Last I checked, I wasn’t hired to take care of Brooks.

  “And don’t you think you should just do whatever I tell you to do?” Roc’s eyes flared, and I knew I was skating on thin ice. “Last I checked, I was the damn crew chief.”

  Yup, I had totally pissed him off. Maybe checking in on Brooks wasn’t a half-bad idea. “I think I saw him head into his trailer earlier. I’ll go see if he needs anything.” I took off to the far side of the field that was filling up with other race team’s trailers and trucks and knocked on the door of Brooks’ trailer.

  He opened the door, his phone pressed to his ear, and motioned for me to come in. My interaction with Brooks had been very limited before this. Roc had been the one to hire me, and I didn’t even meet Brooks until my second week working at the garage.

  Brooks Cummings was on his second year on the circuit, so he was still considered a bit of a rookie, but the name Cummings was a legend in most peoples’ eyes. Brooks’ dad had won five consecutive titles from 1997 to 2001. He was the most winningest driver ever. Brooks had been driving dirt track for seven years and had finally bitten the bullet to see if he could live up to his dad’s legacy on the strip. His rookie season, he had managed to win four of the twenty-three races and came in fourth in the points standings. Pretty damn good for a rookie. Word was, this year he planned to double his wins and take the overall title.

  A car didn’t win unless it had a good team behind it. That was where I came in. I wanted to be a part of the team that helped Brooks win. Winning this season was going to be the only thing to help me keep my job.

  I stepped up into his trailer and stood by the door.

  “Why can’t she go there?” Brooks looked up at me and motioned to the long couch stretched along half of the wall. “Sit,” he ordered.

  He turned his back to me and moved further back into the trailer. I figured he didn’t want me to hear him, but it was hard not to. “She needs something more.” He paused and slammed his hand against the wall. “If I knew what the hell it was she needed, I would fucking give it to her.”

  I put my arm along the back of the couch and turned my body away from Brooks. This wasn’t anything I needed to hear or know. Not that I knew what he was talking about. It was personal.

  “Just find something else, then. I’ll be back Monday after the race, but then I’ll be gone again Thursday. I can’t be there all the time.” He paced further back into the trailer where I could only make out muffled mumbling.

  I looked around the extravagant trailer and whistled low. Being the son of the most winningest driver in NHRA definitely paid well. Full kitchen, sitting area with a huge TV on the wall opposite me, four bunks past the kitchen, and what I assumed was the master bedroom Brooks disappeared into. Brooks was not wanting for anything. Although from the bit of the conversation I had heard, having a nice trailer didn’t mean everything else was so nice in his life.

  “You guys need me for something out there?” Brooks walked past the bunks and pulled open the fridge. He looked over at me, waiting.

  “Uh, Roc told me to come check on you. See if there was anything you needed.”

  Brooks laughed and turned back to the fridge. “I’d love to have a fucking beer right now, but I’m pretty sure my dad would have a coronary if he knew the bottle even touched my hand.”

  No fucking idea what to say to that. This was the most Brooks had ever said to me, and it was pretty damn personal. I had hoped he would say he was good, and then I could be on my merry way back to the makeshift garage to help get the car ready for qualifying tomorrow. “Uh, there’s always after the races Sunday.”

  Brooks shook his head and grabbed the gallon of milk from the door of the fridge. “By the time I get done Sunday, my mind will already be back in Leeds Square taking care of shit.” He took a long swig from the gallon of milk, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stuck the milk back in the fridge. “There’s never enough time in the day anymore.”

  I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say. I agreed there was never enough time in the day, but I had a feeling that there was more to it than what he was saying. “This is a pretty nice trailer.”

  Brooks chuckled and slammed the fridge shut. “Yeah, it’s nice. Does exactly what my dad wanted her to do. Shows the Cummings legacy is alive and well by flaunting our money in everyone's faces. God forbid I would sleep in one of the car haulers with the rest of the crew.”

  I felt like I was on the set of Dr. Phil. Brooks was venting to me about things I shouldn’t know about, and all I could do was sit here acting like I cared. I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t care, but I hardly knew Brooks. The things I knew about him, I had learned from the tabloids or had heard from the other members of the crew. “This is going to be my first night in the car hauler, and I will gladly trade places with you, if you want.”

  A chuckle rumbled from his lips. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day.”

  Bull shit. No one was that crazy. “Uh, was there anything you needed? Otherwise, I’ll just head back to the haulers and help the crew get the car ready for tomorrow.”

  Brooks grabbed a Maverick Tools baseball hat from off the counter and settled it on top of his head. “Don’t need anything, but I will tag along with you over to the haulers. I need to talk to Roc about some of the numbers he had coming back after the last test run. I don’t think the computers are running right.”

  Oh hell. Roc wasn’t going to know anything about the computers. He was going to send Brooks right over to Frankie.

  We trekked across the field that was rapidly filling up and ducked under the ropes surrounding the Cummings Racing trailers, tents, and makeshift garage area. Frankie and Roc were standing by the back end of the car. Frankie was holding a clipboard and angrily stabbing her pen at the paper on it.

  “Roc,” Brooks called. He completely ignored Frankie, not even glancing in her direction. “Something isn’t right with the car. It almost felt like it was misfiring off the line on the last run.”

  Roc glanced at Frankie. “We know, Brooks. Frankie was just running over a few options we can try tomorrow.”

  Brooks crossed his arms over his chest. “The only option we have is to get it fixed before qualifying tomorrow.”

  Frankie rolled her eyes. “I’ll have it figured out by the end of the day.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Brooks,” Roc reassured him.

  Brooks clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew you would get it taken care of, thanks, Roc.”

  Frankie clutched the clipboard to her chest, her knuckles turning white from grasping it so tight. Brooks nodded to Roc and me, then ducked into the hospitality trailer for VIPs.

  “Run through everything, Frank. Get the engine dialed in before tomorrow, or we’re all going to have our asses in a sling.” Roc grimaced and followed Brooks into the trailer.

  Frankie waved her hand in front of my face. “Am I not standing right here?” she growled.

  I knocked her hand away. “Kind of hard to miss when you do that.”

  “Apparently, I’m going to have to jump up and down and cluck like chicken the next time Brooks is around if I actually want him to see me.” She tossed the clipboard on the workbench behind her.

  “I’m sure he’s just stressed about qualifying tomorrow.” Or stressed about whatever he was talking about on the phone earlier.

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. What in the world could that man have to possibly be stressed about? His pi
llow isn’t fluffed enough with hundred-dollar bills? The butler forgot to shine his shoes? I mean, come on, Remy. The guy has a life us minions dream about, and he still acts like the world’s biggest dick with a stick shoved up his ass.”

  “Just don’t worry about him, Frankie.”

  She scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about the guy who’s going to strap himself into this car, hopefully win, and become even more rich and famous while you and I are the whole reason he wins? Yeah, totally doable, Remy.”

  I totally understood why Frankie was annoyed, because the guy had completely ignored her, but she seemed to have a problem with Brooks from day one. Yeah, the guy had more money than some people saw in their entire lifetimes, but I didn’t think he was as big of an asshole as Frankie thought. “Well, how about you don’t worry about him right now. After you figure out what is wrong with the car you can go back to ranting and raving about the guy.”

  “That was not ranting and raving,” she muttered.

  It sure the hell was. I don’t think I had ever heard a good word about Brooks come out of Frankie’s mouth. “Grab whatever shit you need to figure this out, and I’ll help you.”

  A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and she hung her head. “This is gonna take all fucking night. The problem is, I don’t know what the hell the problem is.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Frankie was always one step ahead and never seemed to struggle with anything when it came to the car. Now, it was the night before qualifying, and she was stumped. She lifted her head and straightened her shoulders. “I’m gonna grab my computer. Grab anyone who is willing to help,” she ordered and disappeared into the hauler that housed all of the spare parts.

  “Coast clear?”

  I turned around at Jay’s voice and saw him peeking around the front of the hauler. “Hardly. Get your ass over here and help.”

  Jay grumbled under his breath, but surprisingly, he didn’t disappear.

  It was going to be a long fucking night until we figured out what was wrong with the car. Hopefully, we would be sleeping before the sun rose, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

  Cummings Racing was in the weeds, and it was only the beginning of the season.

  *

  Chapter 7

  Harlyn

  I don’t know why I did this to myself.

  No matter what, when it was racing season, I always had the race on every Sunday. Sometimes I would even have qualifying on Friday and Saturday if it was broadcasted. I was a glutton for punishment. If my dad didn’t want to spend time with me, I could still hope to catch a glimpse of him on TV.

  You’re a fool, Harlyn.

  Cummings Racing had managed to qualify for the big show on Sunday, and they were now in the staging lanes for their second round. They had managed to just eek out the win on their first round, and from what the announcers were saying, they were going to need a miracle to win this race.

  I was ready to mute the TV just so I wouldn’t have to hear these two yahoos talk. They obviously weren’t fans of Brooks Cummings.

  I had done some research the last two days, finding out more about the man and company I was going to be working for. Some would say I should have done that before, but I had been blinded by the fact Dad had even wanted me to come to Leeds Square.

  Brooks Cummings was a second-generation driver who most felt was only on the circuit because of his name and the fact that he sat on big pile of money. From what I had learned about drag racing, if you didn’t have money, you weren’t going to get very far. Nos and high-performance engines didn’t grow on trees. As for getting ahead because of his name, there probably wasn’t much he could do to avoid that. You had to figure, in the long run, if the guy didn’t have any talent as a driver, it would all come out in the wash.

  “This may be Cummings second season in the chase for the Maverick Cup in the AC Cola Series, but you have to wonder how far he is going to go with the rookie pit crew he has behind him.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about his rookie pit crew team, Don. He does have Roc Krinston taking over the crew chief spot this year.”

  “A seasoned crew chief can only go so far. Right now, this pit crew doesn’t have an assistant crew chief, the car chief is green behind the ears Frankie Jensen who has impressive knowledge, but she doesn’t have the experience behind her.”

  Brooks had a woman on his pit crew, and she was in charge of one of the most intricate things on his car? Now that was impressive. Brooks slowly pulled his car up to the line, with my dad walking backward in front of him.

  Dad stepped off to the side, two members of the pit crew hosed down the track with water, and Brooks’ back tires came to stop on the burnout area. He revved his engine, and plumes of smoke rose from the tires, heating and cleaning them off. Brooks rocketed a couple hundred feet down the track, then rolled to a stop. He backed up to the starting line, with my dad hopping back onto the track to help guide him straight onto the line.

  “I don’t know about you, Don, but Cummings better be praying to every god he believes in if he hopes to beat McDougal and the Plot Line crew off the line. Terry McDougal has the best reaction time of the whole fleet this year so far, and he just seems to be getting faster with each pass.”

  It was the first race of the season, and they were acting like McDougal was God. I rolled my eyes and turned up the volume on the TV.

  Cummings and McDougal were both staged, waiting for the tree to flash green. Don and Ted had both finally shut up, and I held my breath, waiting.

  The whole race happened in the matter of under five seconds, but it always felt longer than that.

  The tree flashed green, and unfortunately, Don and Ted were right. McDougal had an insane reaction time and was off the line faster than Cummings.

  “And that is why McDougal has the fastest reaction time. He knows how to roll deep into the staging lane. There are twelve inches of real estate he can take, and you better believe he takes every damn centimeter of it.”

  I pointed the remote at the TV, muting the annoying voices of Don and Ted. McDougal hadn’t been much faster than Cummings, but he had been fast enough to give him the holeshot win.

  That was disappointing.

  The fact Cummings Racing had managed to qualify was awesome, but if they didn’t get past the quarter finals in the next couple of races, they were going to be too far behind to catch up in the points standing. Since I now worked for Cummings Racing, their winning or losing was going to directly affect me.

  I turned off the TV and looked around my duplex. All the boxes were unpacked, and everything was in its place. It had taken me all weekend and seven trips to the store to get all of my essentials, but I had done it.

  Tomorrow, I started working at Cummings Racing, and I was supposed to be going out with Remy in a week. He had texted me a few times over the weekend, checking in to say hi and to remind me of our date. I had told him he didn’t really do anything to woo me into actually going out with him, but I couldn’t expect him to be attached to his phone while he was out of town for work.

  Maybe the woo would come when he was back in town and I had more than my phone to look at when talking to him.

  *

  Chapter 8

  Remy

  “How long you think Roc is going to bitch and moan about losing?”

  I pulled up to the fuel pump and turned off the truck. “Probably until we get to Cali.”

  Jay shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed the bag of trash from the floorboard. “Great. At least another full day.”

  “At least we don’t have to ride with him. Frankie gets that pleasure.”

  Jay tossed the trash away, and I started pumping gas.

  We were six hours from the next race venue, and while we had thought we were going to get a day or so to relax and explore, Roc had other ideas.

  Brooks losing on Sunday had pissed Roc off beyond belief, and he was bound and determined to get the car dialed in even better than Vegas.


  “You really think the car is the problem, or is it the driver?” Jay leaned against the truck and crossed his arms over his truck.

  I shrugged and looked around to see the rest of the Cummings Racing fleet pull into the truck stop. We were in a small town, traveling the road to California. “I think it’s a combination of both. We have to remember, it was the first race of the season, and we’re a new crew.”

  “I don’t think Roc will take those excuses.”

  Frankie jogged over to our truck. “Shoot me now. I’ve never met a man who can bitch and moan as much as Roc. I’m ready to ride in the back with the car.”

  “That bad?” I asked.

  “It’s like the man can’t keep a single thought in his head. I get trying to think through a problem, but damn, keep some of that shit inside.”

  Jay put his arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “But you’re a chick. Chicks like to talk.”

  She elbowed him in the gut. “You’re such an ass. I’m seriously surprised so many girls put up with your shit.”

  “What can I say? I’m charming.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And full of bullshit.”

  My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket to see it was my mom calling. Lo had warned that she wasn’t going to give up. “Hello?”

  Frankie and Jay motioned that they were heading into the gas station, and I leaned against the truck to watch the gallons add up on the pump while I waited to listen to my mom bitch at me.

  “Remy?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  She sighed heavily. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. I forgot what your voice sounded like.” I heard a low chuckle in the background. “Shut it, Lo,” she mumbled. Of course she had me on speaker phone.

  “So dramatic,” Lo rumbled.

  “Did you call me so I could listen to you and Lo bicker?”

  “When did you become such a sasshole?”