Grip: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Lacey Black

  Mack covers his reaction with a wolfish smile toward his best friend. “He just doesn’t know you yet, man. Soon, he’ll think you’re an immature dick, just like the rest of us.”

  Fish laughs off the insult and stands up. “Open up the house, fucker, so I can go change his diaper. I’m pretty sure he just crapped his pants again. Unless that’s you who smells like fermented cheese and rotten milk.”

  Mack pulls out his keys and tosses them to Fish’s outstretched hand. “Where’s your key?”

  Fish heads to the door. “Still in my luggage back in the other camper. I wasn’t expecting to have to jump vehicles when you called me crying this morning.” Before the big man slips out of the motorhome, he turns to me and winks.

  The moment the door is closed and we’re alone, Mack sighs. “What a dick.” He yawns and runs his hand through his hair. “And for the record, I didn’t call him for shit. He popped his head in the camper this morning before we left and heard Oliver crying. He insisted on helping.”

  I smile across the vehicle. “You don’t have to convince me.”

  “Yes, I do. Fish made me sound like a pussy who couldn’t take care of his kid.”

  I’m already shaking my head and walking his way. “Doesn’t really matter what he says, right?” I place one hand on his chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin beneath the thin material of his shirt. “I already know the truth.”

  He swallows hard. “And what’s that?”

  I place a second hand on his chest and step closer. “That you’re an amazing father.”

  Mack wraps his arms around my shoulders and draws me into his embrace. I’m engulfed in his arms and silence as we stand together in the motorhome. Finally, he sets his chin on my forehead and says, “About last night…”

  It’s my turn to swallow hard. I knew this was coming, but I had kinda hoped I’d at least have fresh breath first.

  “I hope you don’t regret it.” I can hear the worry in his voice as he tries to play it cool, but I know Mack. I know the real man. The one who wants to make everyone happy, who has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known, despite how horrible his homelife was.

  “I don’t regret it,” I insist. “I just don’t know where we go from here. I mean, I’m leaving in three weeks, right?” I state, honestly.

  He nods his head slowly, as if he agrees, but something in his eyes tells me he doesn’t agree at all. “Mmhmm.”

  “I’m just not sure we should let it happen again.” My words are soft, but the thunder in my chest is deafening.

  He nods again but doesn’t say anything. Part of me is thankful he’s not fighting me on this. There’s no good way for this to end, because the truth is, it will end. I’ll be gone in a few weeks, heading back to Brenton, and Mack will still be here, in Los Angeles. Yet, a part of me is hopeful for a different reaction. One where he puts up a little more fight and tells me he doesn’t want me to go. It’s not a rational thought, but one I can’t seem to let go of, nonetheless.

  “You’re probably right,” he finally says, offering me a small smile. “The past is the past, right?” The grin I give him feels sad. “Though, I wouldn’t be opposed to accidentally stumbling on you naked in my shower.”

  I bark out a laugh, my cheeks heating up to a lovely shade of pink. “Well, if anyone stumbles upon me in the shower, I do hope it’s you,” I reply, bumping his shoulder with my own.

  “That could be arranged,” he mumbles so quietly, I almost don’t hear it.

  And just like that, the conversation is over.

  Mack heads to the door and holds it open for me. “What do you say we go say goodbye to Randy and see how Fish is getting along with that diaper change? I’m kinda hoping Oliver peed on him.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mack

  Lena’s gone for a walk. After dinner, she took off with her camera to explore the neighborhood, but I think she just needed to get out of the house for a while. We’ve been cooped up together today, a steady beat of rain keeping us from going out and enjoying this Tuesday. Being cooped up with Lena has its pros and cons. It feels great having her around, even underfoot at times, but at the same time, having her around so much is messing with my head.

  It makes me think of things I can’t have.

  A text comes through from Coop, reminding me of my obligation Saturday. The Hicks gala is this weekend at The Garland.

  And I should have a date.

  I’ve gone over it in my head all day and keep coming back to one option. Lena. However, it’s not like I have a lot of babysitting options in LA. Sure, I could call a service, but the thought makes my stomach clench with anxiety. I can’t picture letting some stranger into my home to watch my infant. Not happening.

  That’s why I grab my phone and dial a number I haven’t called in a handful of months.

  “Hello?”

  I’m already smiling as the familiar voice fills the line. “Hey, Jim. How are you?”

  “Mack, good to hear from ya, Son. I’m fine, fine. How’s it out there? Lena all right?”

  I take a seat on my porch steps and set the baby monitor down beside me. “Lena’s good, Jim. She just went for a walk.”

  I’m met with silence on the other end of the line. After a pregnant pause, he finally asks, “What’s going on, Son?”

  Son.

  Even before I dated his daughter, Jim Stanley called me son. Hell, after our relationship ended, he still used the term. He’s always been the closest person I have to a real father, and I find myself getting a little emotional over his question.

  Clearing my throat, I give him an answer. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “There’s this…thing Saturday night. A gala for my sponsor, Hicks. I have to go, along with my team. I just…well, I was hoping Lena would go with me.”

  Jim’s silent again, the only noise the steady sound of his breathing.

  “Jim?”

  “Lena used to love to get dressed up. She was always too little to go to most of the events I had to attend, but there were a few. Her favorite thing was to go pick out her dress and then get her hair done. One of the wives of a tire changer was a hairdresser and made sure Lena was taken care of.”

  A soft smile plays on my lips. When I close my eyes, I can imagine a young thirteen-year-old Lena Stanley getting all dolled up in a lavender and yellow dress, dark curls pinned to the top of her head.

  “Have you asked her?”

  “Not yet,” I reply, watching the sidewalk for her return.

  “Why not?” There’s no judgment in his question, just genuine wonder.

  “I don’t have anyone to watch Oliver. I know there are tons of services out here, but I’m just not ready to leave him with someone I don’t trust yet.”

  Jim exhales. “I understand, Mack. So, ask me.”

  “Ask you?” I reply, a hint of a smile in my voice.

  “Yep, just ask. I might say yes.”

  I sit up straight, flashbacks to the first time I asked Jim if I could to take out Lena are racing through my mind. The nerves are still very real. “If you don’t have a race Saturday night, I’d love to fly you out to Los Angeles so you can see your daughter, and maybe even help me with Oliver so I can take her to the gala.”

  Why do I sound like I just ran a marathon?

  Jim’s chuckle fills the air between us. “I’ll be there Friday, Mack. No need to pay for my flight. I’d love to come meet your little boy and see my daughter. And yes, I’ll be happy to watch him for a while Saturday night. In fact, I’m honored you’d trust me enough to be left with him.”

  “No one I trust more than you, Jim.” Besides his daughter, that’s the absolute truth.

  “Then, I’ll call you with my flight details.”

  “We’ll pick you up,” I tell him.

  “Can’t wait, Mack. So tell me about that win, Son,” he encourages, jumping right into conversation about Sunday’s win.

  Fifteen minutes la
ter, I’m just signing off with Jim as his daughter comes around the fence at my driveway and walks my way. Even from my porch, I can see the smile on her face as she snaps a few photos of the trees, flowers, and even a bird flying overhead. She keeps her face tilted toward the early evening sun and grins, letting the warmth spread across her cheeks.

  All I can do is stare at her beauty.

  When she glances toward the house, she spies me sitting there, watching. Lena gives me a tentative grin and makes her way to me. “Oliver go down already?”

  Nodding, I reply, “Yeah, he didn’t even get his entire bottle empty before it was curtains. That means he’ll probably be up earlier than normal later.”

  “Probably,” she replies, looking around at the landscaping along the steps.

  Scooting over, I tap my hand on the wood beside me. “Have a seat.” When she sits beside me, her outer leg brushes against mine, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and touching her smooth skin. It’s toned and tanned and on full display in cute little denim shorts. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to give me a heart attack. Shaking images of her sexy legs out of my mind, I add, “I have something to ask you.”

  She glances to the side, a hesitant look on her face. “Haven’t you already asked me enough?” she teases.

  “Yeah, the last ask was a pretty big one. This one isn’t like that. Plus, it involves shopping.”

  Her eyes dance with excitement. “You have my attention.”

  I lean back on my hands to keep from touching her. “Well, this Saturday night is that Hicks gala I mentioned, and I was hoping you’d go with me.”

  She swallows hard. “Like a date?”

  I shrug. “We can call it whatever you want, Lean. All I know is I’d love to take you out for the evening. A thank-you, of sorts.”

  The moment I say the words, I want to pull them back. Something flashes across her face. It’s almost a grimace, like she’s in pain. That’s how I know I’ve messed up without even realizing it.

  Lena seems to sit up straighter. “What about Oliver?”

  “Actually, I have someone coming to watch him.” I can’t help but smile.

  “Really?” she asks, confused. “We haven’t started to vet nannies yet.”

  Now it’s my turn for my stomach to drop to my shoes. The only reason to vet nannies is because she’s leaving. That thought makes me want to punch a puppy. No, I’d never actually hit an animal—or a human—unless he was asking for it. When your father occasionally uses you as a punching bag on heavy vodka nights, you learn to only throw a punch when absolutely necessary. I’ve thrown exactly three in my entire life, and none of them were to a defenseless animal.

  I turn my attention back to Lena. “I have someone flying in Friday.” Her eyebrows raise in question. “Your dad.”

  At first, I see shock, followed very quickly by elation. “My Dad? He’s coming here?”

  The moment I start to nod, her body slams into mine, her arms wrap around my neck. Her lips are on my cheek a moment later. As I sit there, contemplating on whether or not to move my arms and return the hug, I realize it would only take the slightest turn of my lips to claim hers. I can feel her breath sliding over my face, so very close.

  When our eyes meet, she whispers, “Thank you, Mack.”

  I shrug, hating the way my body weeps with sadness as she pulls back and sits up straight beside me. I just want her to touch me again. “You’re welcome. So, does that mean you’ll go with me?”

  Her eyes dance with excitement. She nods and bites her lower lip. Lucky lip. “I’ll go.”

  I’m automatically grinning. “Great. Your dad is going to text me his flight information, and we’ll all buzz over and grab him.”

  “Thank you.” Her words are soft, the conviction in them evident. She’s truly grateful. Most likely because her dad is coming, and less because of the gala, but I’ll take that light in her eyes and the happiness in her smile anytime, despite the reason.

  “You’re welcome, Lean,” I reply, bumping her shoulder with my own.

  We sit in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts. Mine are about her, anticipating what she’ll wear to the gala. For the first time, I’m actually excited to attend one of these formal dinners. Usually, I’m all about ducking out at the first opportunity, but this time, I might actually stay and enjoy. Dance and hold her close.

  If only convincing her to stay was as easy as being my date to the gala.

  ***

  “Take it easy in turn four, Cruz,” Coop instructs into my earpiece.

  My team is back at Fontana, testing tires. We’re one of three West Coast teams at the track on this sunny Thursday afternoon. Colton is even here, overseeing some of the testing for the brand who is the major tire sponsor for the league. If testing goes well today, they could incorporate better options for short track tires in the future.

  “I’m sliding all over the place,” I tell him, struggling to hold my line with the car.

  “You’re four-tenths of a second off last lap. Daniels had the same problem during his laps,” Coop says. “You’ve got four to go on these tires, and then we’ll come in for a change.”

  “Roger,” I reply, putting all of my focus into the car and track. Unfortunately, the tires just aren’t cooperating with what I’m trying to do.

  After I complete my next four laps, Coop brings me into the pit. My team removes the test tires and puts the standard tires for this track on my car. As soon as I’m lowered to the ground, I take off like a bat out of hell, ignoring any race speed limit. There are no speed limits during testing.

  “Much better laps,” Coop tells me as I complete my second lap on these tires.

  “Handles like a dream. The grip is fucking sweet,” I tell my guys and anyone else listening on our frequency.

  “Keep it up. These lap times are way better than the first set,” Coop informs me before cutting off his mic and just letting me drive. This is where I thrive, where I find my peace. Flying around a racetrack at speeds upward of two hundred ten miles per hour.

  When Coop brings me in this time, I exit the vehicle. The third and final driver in today’s test runs will take the track, while the engineers from the tire company take our tires for data collection.

  “Not bad,” Coop says after I get my helmet off.

  “Ehh, not good either. Felt like there was no grip with those tires,” I reply, running a hand through my hair before sliding on my ball cap.

  “They’ll test better on the East Coast where the temperatures are a little milder,” he says, leading me over to where we set up a temporary tent for today.

  Colton is there, handing me a printout of today’s lap times. We spend the next ten minutes going over the data and discussing how we’d work to improve the car, if today were an actual race. That’s another reason test runs for tires are so important. We can cuss and discuss different options for car handling, and how our team could fix the problems. It’s valuable information for our team, as much as it is for the tire makers.

  I slip out of my suit and chug a Gatorade while Colton and Coop continue to pore over the data. “I heard that trailer was a rocking Friday night,” Cookie says, a wide grin on his face.

  I snort as I toss my empty drink bottle in the trash. “You outside listening, Cook?” I ask, knowing damn well he couldn’t hear what happened in my motorhome after that race.

  Or at least I hope he couldn’t hear.

  “Damn right I was. Only way I get any action on the road. The only tail running around here is usually slipping out of your trailer in the middle of the night,” he says, making the guys around him laugh.

  My eyes connect with Fish, who just shrugs. We all know he’s completely full of shit, yet I can’t stop myself from engaging. “As opposed to you? How many did you have sneaking out in the middle of the night?”

  Cookie laughs. “We’ve already covered I don’t get any road tail, man. Kinda hard when you’re surrounded by eight ugly mugs like
them,” he adds, pointing to whoever is standing behind him.

  “And we all know Cookie’s the last one of us getting laid,” Chief hollers, and we’re once again surrounded by laughter.

  “True that,” I tease, adjusting my hat under the hot sun.

  “Speaking of getting lucky, you morons have dates for Saturday?” Fish asks, and I can feel his eyes on me. I know what he’s asking, but I’m not giving it away so easily.

  “I’m bringing Shannon,” Jones says, referring to his girlfriend of two years.

  The guys each talk about their dates, most of whom I’ve already met in recent months. Only Fish is going stag. I’m sure he’d have no problem finding a date, but he says he’s not ready to deal with a female yet after the shit his ex-wife put him through.

  “What about you, Cruz? You have a date lined up?” Pete asks, a smirk on his face. I know what he’s asking too.

  “I’m bringing a date,” I confirm casually.

  “Lindsay?” Chief asks, making everyone laugh again.

  “Fuck no,” I mumble, remembering how Lindsay cornered Lena at the Mid-Ohio race. Just the thought of it makes my protective side come out, and I haven’t had it happen in a long damn time. Picturing her in trouble, especially when the bullshit is because of me, makes my blood boil. “I’m bringing Lena.”

  “Ohhhhh!” everyone bellows.

  Let the ribbing begin.

  “Mack and Lena, sitting in a tree,” one of the jackasses sings, drawing more laughter from the rest.

  “Knock it off,” I chastise, unable to keep the smile off my face. “We’re just friends,” I add, probably more for me than them.

  Cookie starts thrusting his hips again. “Friends with benefits.”

  I bark out a laugh at how ridiculous he looks. “Stop.” The moment I turn to walk away, I see Daniels heading my way.

  “Cruz,” he says briskly with a nod as he approaches.

  “Daniels,” I reply, taking a few steps away from my crew to give us a bit of privacy.

  “Congratulations on the win Sunday. Didn’t think you had it in you to push it on the outside like that,” he states bluntly.

  I shrug my shoulders. “Felt good to get the W.”