Magnetic Shift

by Lucy D. Briand

When we boarded the jet, I sat in the same seat I’d sat in last week, thinking that Colton would have the nerve to sit next to me. He did. I debated changing seats, but then I’d have to explain to Dean why. I buckled myself in and kept my hands in my lap, remembering what had happened last time. Dean took his paperwork out and kept himself busy, leaving me to stare out the window.

  The jet turned and headed down the runway. The air to my left tensed. Colton looked so scared and fragile—the urge to comfort him pounded against my chest, but I resisted. I couldn’t let him get to me again. The jet lifted off the ground. Colton sucked in a breath, reached over and yanked my hand from my lap, threading his fingers between mine.

  I scowled at him, but his eyes were shut tight and his body jittered with anxiety. My insides melted. I couldn’t take away his only comfort, as much as I hated him right now. I knew what it was like to feel scared and vulnerable about something out of my control. I stared down at our hands, wondering what it would be like to hold his hand for real. To feel the warmth of his skin seep through mine while knowing that it was because he wanted to feel the same thing, not because he was latching on to help himself cope with his fear.

  Stop. Stop it. You’re anti-social and not his type, remember?

  The seatbelt light turned off. Colton released my hand, unbuckled his seatbelt and hurried to his cushion at the back of the aisle. Once seated, he leaned back and glanced up at me. He mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” then hid his eyes under the brim of his ball cap.

  Sorry about what? For what he’d said, or for using my hand as a coping mechanism? It didn’t matter. Either way, staying mad at him now was going to be a challenge.

  When it came time to land, Colton returned to his seat and gave me the saddest look I’d ever seen. The one a puppy would give his master when in trouble for peeing on the carpet. I let out a soft sigh and slapped my hand onto the seat between us. Even though I knew it was coming, my body flinched the second I felt his fingers lace with mine. I was still angry, only now it was with myself. I had let my emotions be affected by him again. I was growing weak, and I didn’t like it.

  The wheels of the jet hit solid ground and rolled to a stop. Without looking back, I tore my hand out of Colton’s grasp and got as far from him as I could.

  Dean kept busy all afternoon and the better part of the morning with Link and his crew, preparing and qualifying his car for the next day. He also stuck around to watch Colton’s practice runs. I, on the other hand, wasn’t needed, and took the opportunity to do some sightseeing and to catch up on some of my online course assignments. I didn’t want to fall behind, and it was an excellent excuse to keep some distance between Colton and myself.

  He’d tried to corner me a few times, but each time his PR rep, Nancy, came and whisked him away for interviews and sponsor promo shoots. My plan of staying in the motor coach until race day was working out nicely until my phone chimed with a text message from Dean, asking me to meet him atop the hauler for Colton’s qualifying runs. With a sigh and a figurative kick in the butt, I left the motor coach and headed out to meet with him.

  I still didn’t understand why I needed to follow Colton and his team to every race, but Dean assured me that my dismantling skills would someday come in handy. Unfortunately, that meant many more weekends and handholding jet rides with Colton.

  Dean stood at the railing timing Mitch Benson, the returning champ and, according to the sportscasters, the lead contender for this year’s championship. But they also said Colton might be his biggest competitor for the top spot in The Chase—the top ten drivers in season points that advance to contend for the cup championship. Dean motioned for me to wait. He turned back, raised his stopwatch, and clocked Mitch as he crossed the start/finish line. “Shoot. He’s going to be hard to beat.” Dean removed his headset. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  Dean frowned. “Listen, I don’t know what Colton did to get you so upset, but you can’t let it keep you locked up in your room every weekend.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Dean stepped toward the cooler. “I have a gift for you and I wanted you to test it out before tomorrow’s race.” He picked up a turquoise-blue headset and a scanner, turned them over, and passed his thumb over the black lettering printed on the side. “Got them personalized.” He grinned and handed them over. “You like?”

  They were new and shiny without a scratch or a scuff. My full name, Lexi Adams, stood out against the light turquoise color on the left ear piece. “Are you kidding? I love them. Thank you so much.”

  “The dial is tuned to our channel. Go ahead and take them for a test run—Colton’s about to take the track.”

  I clipped the scanner to my waist and placed the headset over my ears.

  “You’re next,” I heard Lenny say to Colton.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Colton replied, disdain in his voice.

  I pulled one earphone off and nudged Dean. “Who pissed in his corn flakes this morning?”

  “He’s been like this since Wednesday. No one’s been able to calm him down.”

  I replaced my earphone and stood off to the side. He couldn’t seriously be like this because of me, could he?

  Colton took the track next and hammered up to full throttle, zipping around the track.

  “She still feels pretty loose,” Colton grumbled.

  “We made the changes you wanted. We don’t know what else it could be.”

  Dean cued his mic. “Colton, just calm down and give us your best lap.”

  “Yes, boss,” he replied, his tone harsh and mean.

  Colton finished his laps. “How was that, boss?”

  “Fourth,” Dean said. “Possibly fifth. There’s one last team still to qualify.”

  “Damn it,” Colton yelled, so loud that my headset screeched. “Now, Colton, that’s a good start.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Colton!” Dean’s face hardened. “Okay. That’s enough. Get your ride back to the garage and see me in my office ASAP.”

  Silence fell over the airwaves. Dean yanked his headset off and stormed down the ladder. I paced a few laps along the railing before making my way down. I didn’t want to bump into Colton on his way to the hauler. The crew huddled outside the side door, trying to listen in.

  “Guys, I don’t think—”

  Jimmy shushed me and leaned in close to the door. Not that he needed to—I could hear Dean and Colton yelling from where I stood.

  “I don’t care if you have personal issues and I don’t care to know what they are, but when you’re out on that track, you’re going to be respectful to me and to your team. We aren’t the only ones on this frequency, Colt. Fans out there and at home are listening in, as well as officials and any of our sponsor reps who might be in attendance. Man up and stop taking your foul mood out on everyone around you. Apologize and move on.”

  “But she won’t even talk to me.”

  “Not my problem. You put yourself in this mess, you get yourself out of it. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  My head swayed back, and the crew’s eyes all landed on me. “Don’t look at me,” I said. “He’s the jerk.” Lenny shook his head and walked away.

  Colton burst out, letting the side door slam against the hauler, and narrowed his eyes at his crew. “Don’t you guys have shit you should be doing?” The men scattered back toward the pit.

  Colton grabbed the hanging sleeves of his fire suit and began tying them around his waist as he turned. He froze when he saw me standing there, and our eyes locked.

  My heart pounded. The urge to crumble into his arms came out of nowhere. Where had that thought come from? His stern expression faded. We stood there for what seemed like minutes. Finally, he sidestepped around me and left me there alone to catch my breath.

  Saturday evening I opted to eat with the boys at Lenny’s RV, knowing that Dean and Colton would be at the hauler wat
ching the ProNation race. As I finished my plate, a tall, creepy, salt-and-pepper-haired man in a two-toned navy suit and Stetson hat approached.

  “Lenny. Long time no see.”

  “I’m at the same place you are every weekend,” Lenny answered him.

  “Can we talk?” The man eyed us all. “In private?”

  Lenny put down his grilling utensils and took his apron off. “Sure, lets walk.” They hobbled off together.

  I nudged Jimmy, who’d been sitting beside me. “Who was that?”

  “That, my dear, is Carl Stacy. Team owner of the SunCorp 220 car.”

  I pointed over my shoulder. “That was Carl Stacy?” I knew who he was thanks to Roy, but I’d never seen the man’s face. He didn’t look at all how I’d pictured. “What’s he want with Lenny?”

  Dylan cleared his throat and leaned forward on the edge of his seat. “Rumor has it he’s going broke, so he’s putting another team together next season, hoping to supplement his income. Looks like he’s trying to recruit.”

  “Can he do that?”

  “He can,” Jimmy said. “Question is, would Lenny jump ship?”

  “Depends on what Carl offers him.” Dylan leaned back in his folding chair and chuckled. “Man, Dean’s not going to like this.”

  I glanced to where Lenny and Carl were deep into conversation. “I guess not.”

  “Oh, darlin’, you don’t know the half of it. Carl is Dean’s stepdad’s cousin.”

  I snapped my glance back at Dylan. “His stepdad?”

  “Yeah. The guy who beat him to a pulp every time he came home from a race. Dean’s stepdad drove for Carl until he died in a racing accident shortly after Dean went to the police with his allegations. Carl blames him for his cousin’s death.” He leaned back in his chair. “I tell ya, Carl practically blew a gasket when he heard Dean was starting up his own team last year and even more so now that he’s got himself a Cup series team.”

  “Shut it, Dyl. Dean’s coming,” Jimmy said in a loud, throaty whisper.

  Colton and Dean sauntered over and joined us.

  Jimmy cleared his throat. “Hey. Didn’t expect you guys here so soon. Race ain’t over yet.”

  Dean pulled up a folding chair and took a seat. “Link’s done. Got caught in a pile-up in turn four. Car’s totaled.”

  Dylan sighed. “Shit.”

  My hand flew to the front of my chest. “Is he okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. Medics cleared him twenty minutes ago. He’s with his family now.” Dean glanced around. “Where’s Lenny?”

  Everyone looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with other things.

  “He’s with Carl Stacy over there.” I nodded to where they stood in the distance. Jimmy elbowed me. “What?” I glared at him. “He is.”

  Colton hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his cargo shorts and stepped back. He had his shades on and his ball cap set low. It was too dark to see his full face, but something told me this was going to end badly.

  Just then, Carl and Lenny returned. Lenny averted his eyes when Dean tried to meet them.

  “Carl.” Dean stood and extended his hand out. “To what do we owe the displeasure?”

  Carl took his hand, ignoring the jab. “Came to talk to my friend Lenny here.” He patted Lenny on the back with his free hand. “But he didn’t sound too interested in what I had to say.”

  Dean let go of Carl’s hand and gave Lenny a side-glance. “I’m happy to hear that. No offense.”

  “None taken. I heard you had a hard time controlling that rookie of yours during qualifying today.” Carl nodded in Colton’s direction.

  Colton’s head dipped as his remaining exposed fingers curled up into his palms.

  “Nah. Just a small misunderstandin’, ain’t that right, Colt?”

  Colton lifted his gaze. “Right, boss.”

  “Well, you better keep your kid, Rocket here, from trading any more paint with my 220 or there will be hell to pay.”

  “What are you complaining about? Mitch won Daytona last week,” Dean said.

  “Your rookie damaged my car real good. Repairs don’t come cheap, you know.”

  “Rubbin’s racin’, Carl. It’s all part of the game. And since when do you worry about money?”

  “That may be true, but if he as much as grazes my car tomorrow, we’re taking him out. I can’t afford to throw money around because of this kid’s inexperienced, immature nonsense.”

  Dean’s face hardened. Carl laughed and tipped his oversized cowboy hat to the rest of the group. “Have a good night, boys. Oh, and Dean, one more thing.”

  Dean squared his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s that?”

  Carl jutted his chin up at Colton. “Your pops would’ve liked this one.”

  Dean lunged toward him. Colton, Dylan, and Jimmy rushed to hold him back. “You son of a bitch. Stay away from my driver and crew, do you hear me?”

  Carl strolled off, laughing. Dean pulled himself out of his team members’ holds, but Dylan kept a hand on his shoulder while Dean snarled at Carl’s back. “He’s not worth it, Dean. Let him go.”

  Dean cursed under his breath and stormed off toward his motor coach. No one dared to follow him. My gut churned, knowing what he must be going through. As much as I liked to think that I had bigger things to worry about than Roy’s abusive behavior back home, I still cringed at the memory of his hand coming down on me more times than I could count. So many times I’d thought of using my ability to end him, or just threaten him, but I knew it would’ve made things a lot worse. Dean and I shared that. He’d found the courage to report his stepfather, but was still paying the price thanks to Carl. In situations like ours, you were damned if you did, and damned if you didn’t.

  chapter ten

  “I still say you should report him,” I heard Colton telling Dean in the kitchen. I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand to check the time. It was almost noon.

  “It’s his word against ours, Colt. NASCAR’s not going to do anything about it. Not until he actually does something.”

  “Yeah, after the damage is done and he costs me the race.”

  “He’s just trying to get under your skin, Colt. Don’t let him. You do, and he wins regardless. Now get your butt in gear. The team needs you out in the garage.”

  I buried my face in my pillow for a few seconds then grumbled as I pulled myself out of bed and shambled over to the door. I reached for the door knob.

  “Is she coming?” Colt asked in a softer tone.

  I hesitated. Was he talking about me?

  “She’ll be there.”

  I picked that moment to step out of my room. Both Dean and Colton glanced my way.

  Colton slipped his shades on, his face hardening. “I’ll see you later, Dean.” He spun and ducked out the door.

  Dean set his elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two are going to have to talk sooner or later.”

  Ignoring his comment, I shuffled past him to the cupboard and pulled down a box of Frosted Flakes, then snatched the milk from the fridge, closing the door with a hip check. Not the best choice of food this late in the day, but I didn’t think I could stomach anything else.

  “Lexi?”

  “Dean, all I want is an apology. Until then …”

  Dean sighed. “Okay, well, I’ll see you out there.” I nodded. Dean shook his head and left me to eat alone.

  With an hour left before the race I began making my way to the hauler when my phone chirped in my back pocket. I reached for it and swiped my thumb over the screen. Dean had sent me a text.

  911. Where are you?

  911? What could have possibly happened for him to summon me via 911? I picked up speed and turned the phone sideways to make the screen keys bigger. I wasn’t used to this texting thing yet.

  On my way to the hauler. What’s up?

  Within seconds, my phone chirped again.

  Get your butt here now! How fast can you
Re & Re an engine?

  Remove & Reinstall? Shit! I didn’t bother replying, I ran past fans, golf carts, security gates, and rounded into our garage stall. White smoke wafted through the air and lingered at the ceiling. Blown head gasket. It had to be. But how and why? I glanced back at the hauler. Crew members were hauling a new engine down from the top compartment.

  “Son of a bitch. Son of a fu—”

  “Colton!” Dean yelled from in front of the toolbox.

  “Dean. I’m here. What the hell happened?”

  “Lexi, oh, thank God. No time to explain.” He handed me some safety glasses and a few tools. “Get under that hood and start dismantling. We need all hands on deck. I want that engine removed yesterday.”

  A stabbing pain shot out from my core. “You want me to dismantle the engine?” My eyes flicked to the engine bay of the car. “Here?”

  Dean wanted my speed, but I couldn’t use my ability now. Not in such a public setting.

  “This one’s finished and the backup car will never be ready in time. This is your moment, kid, now get to work.” Dean patted me on the back and rushed off to help the others.

  Shit.

  I bit my lip and glanced around to pinpoint everyone’s distance. Fans were being redirected to the neighboring stalls to give the crews space to work, and the crews were so busy that no one besides Dean seemed to know I was even there. Could I pull this off? I plunged my hands down into the engine bay and mimicked the normal removal process with my wrench while loosening every one with the twitch of my wrist. No one hovered, and the noise from the neighboring team’s air guns and impact wrenches masked my lack of tool use. The task took longer than if I’d been alone, but was fast enough to put a smile on Dean’s face when I told him to bring the engine crane over. I ducked under the car, unbolted the engine and transmission from their mounts, and gave them the go-ahead to lift her on out.

  I stood off to the side, wiping my hands with a shop rag, antsy as I watched the techs take the transmission and exhaust from the damaged engine and install them onto the spare one, preparing it to be dropped into the car. I fought the urge to push everyone aside and yell out “let me do it,” knowing that, in a perfect setting, I could have done it all in half the time it was taking them. Instead, I just stood there, biting the inside of my cheek into hamburger meat. Colton stood opposite of me, watching his crew hurrying to reconnect the cooling and ignition systems. I wanted to help so bad, but with all the techs now elbow-deep in the engine bay, there was no room for me.