Brant nodded in agreement. “It was…wait a minute. What do you mean by coming out?”
“You know,” Princess teased. “Out of the closet?”
Brant and Colt stared at one another. Colt swallowed the bile in the back of his throat and said, “You mean your momma told you we were gay?”
“Aren’t you?” she asked.
“Hell no!” they exclaimed together. “Why on earth would you think something like that?”
Princess smiled. “Relax. I don’t think you’re gay but you know that’s why the judge wouldn’t let me stay with you while they found an appropriate home for me, don’t you? That’s what my mom always said. She told me that it was difficult for gay men to raise a little girl, particularly in the South.”
“We aren’t gay, kid,” Brant said, still calling her by the nickname he gave her all those years ago.
“I never believed that for a minute,” she assured them.
Colt cleared his throat. He didn’t want to go back and rehash all those memories. They were too painful. Besides, looking at her now he was certain things worked out as they should. He didn’t need to revisit the past. Not now. Not when tomorrow looked a hell of a lot brighter than yesterday or the day before.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sterling wanted you, Princess. You’ve had a good life, haven’t you?” Colt asked, his heart threatening to collapse if she told him otherwise.
She shrugged. “I can’t complain. They were strict, but they loved me.”
Colt tilted his head toward the other girls flaunting their assets. “I don’t think they were firm enough.”
“Believe me, my father ruled with an iron fist.”
Brant’s nostrils flared and his jaw set. “What do you mean he ruled with an iron fist? Did he abuse you?”
“Oh no, nothing like that.” She paused and waved at a race fan. “The truth is, I’m standing here today doing what I love because my father had a dream.”
“He wanted you pole dancing?” Colt asked.
“No, silly,” she replied, blushing. “But he did want me on the pole.”
“What?” Colt asked, trying to follow her.
“Wrong pole,” Brant snipped.
“Do you know anything about stock car racing or not?” Princess asked.
“Not much,” Colt admitted.
She cut her gaze at Brant.
“Don’t look at me.”
“I have a lot to teach you two. The pole position is one of the most desirable positions on the track at the start of the race.”
A fan rushed her before she continued. “May I have your autograph, Miss Sterling?”
“Sure,” she said, elated as she signed the piece of paper stuck in front of her face. “What’s your name?”
“Laura,” the young lady said.
She hurriedly scribbled across the notepad. “Who do you have picked to win tomorrow?”
Laura grinned. “You, of course.”
Princess winked after the fan walked away. “See there? My father’s dreams are coming true.”
“What about you?” Colt asked, studying her face, searching for the little girl they refused to leave behind in Kentucky.
She shrugged. “You might be surprised at how simple my dreams are.” She jumped up like she had somewhere to go in a hurry. “And you might be surprised to know that after all these years I still dream about you, and I’m still awaiting that fairy-tale ending.”
* * * *
Later that evening, Princess was in her bed all alone. She tossed and turned one way or the other, trying to hold on to the parting words she’d had with Brant and Colt. After she’d signed autographs, she’d returned to the pub to thank the owners, and then they’d walked her to her car. Once there, she’d asked them if they planned to stay for the race. After they promised they’d be around, she’d given each of them a peck on their cheeks and said goodnight.
Why hadn’t she thought to invite them back to her camper for a drink? Why had she been so timid when she reached over to plant a kiss on each of their cheeks? Why hadn’t she given them each a saucy peck on their lips?
“Why? Why? Why?” she whined aloud.
Tossing another pillow under her neck, she stretched her arms overhead and stared at the ceiling. In the distance, she could hear the partygoers having a good time. Sometimes she wondered what it might be like to go from town to town, bed to bed.
She never considered that possibility long.
Princess had grown up with nothing. She’d been dirt poor, and even after Colt and Brant pulled her out of her horrible conditions, she still wasn’t exactly pampered or cherished until the Sterling family saved her from foster care. Life was easier then, but she’d been alone a lot. Her parents traveled with their racing team and they were big partiers when they weren’t racing. Her mother liked to swing and her father did whatever her mother told him to do.
Princess didn’t want a relationship like her parents had. She wanted an everlasting love to call her own. And she’d always known precisely where she’d find what she desired most.
Naturally, her little-girl dreams were quite distorted, not to mention purely innocent. In the back of her mind, she’d thought Brant and Colt would wait for her to track them down.
If they were gay as her mother had suggested, then she would love them straight. Then, they would be a family. As she matured, she realized she’d never have to worry about their sexual orientation. She recalled bits and pieces of conversation, flirtatious remarks they each made to women, and once she became a woman, her dreams turned into delicious fantasies.
Princess smiled at that. She still wanted children…someday. She wondered, sometimes, why her parents never wanted more children of their own, not that she was ungrateful for the opportunities for which she’d been given.
She heard a noise outside and moved the small curtain to the side so she could watch as a happily drunk couple toddled between the parked campers and buses. With their arms around one another for support, they stopped where they were and immediately began kissing one another.
Princess pursed her lips and studied them as their bodies began to grind. Heavy petting turned into full-fledged groping, and within a matter of seconds, the woman’s head was pressed against the shell of the camper and the man was unzipped, the outline of his cock barely visible under the streetlight.
The woman placed her hand at the man’s nape. He hoisted her into his arms, locked her legs around his back, and then jerked. He apparently penetrated her then, because their bodies began to move in tandem and the soft cries of exquisite pleasure rang out in the campground.
They finished a few seconds later. She ran her fingers through his hair, drew him to her and gave him what appeared to be a truly passionate kiss. He released her, zipped up, and backed away while she readjusted her short skirt and top. Then, they went their separate ways.
Princess fell against the bed. That was precisely why she didn’t go from town to town, hopping in bed with one man after the other.
Chapter Ten
Princess stood next to her car the next day, thinking men instead of racing. The years had softened Brant. He wasn’t the hard-ass he’d been when she’d first met him, and she wondered if he had a woman in his life.
She gulped at the thought and refused to go there. She’d always wanted Brant and Colt to be happy. Right?
Sure she had, but back then, when she thought of them, she’d thought of them fucking each other rather than a woman. She could’ve dealt with that.
She wiped the sweat off her brow as the anthem played. The damn suit was so freaking hot, she’d never make it to the finish line without grumbling about the heat. Five hundred laps rarely passed in a blink of an eye.
The singer hit the high notes and the fighter jets flew overhead. Thousands of fans oohed and ahhed.
Princess shielded her eyes and looked into the stands. She wondered where they were. Could they see her now? Why hadn’t she invited them to the infield?
&nb
sp; A prayer was said and drivers entered their cars, kissing their loved ones good-bye on the chance this was the final time they saw them. Princess stood there. Her mind was someplace else. It definitely wasn’t on the fastest half mile in racing.
Colt still had that outgoing personality, but something had changed him. He had tortured eyes. His dark gaze had seen hard times. But age had been kind, with the exception of his salt-and-pepper hair, which she thought made him look sexier anyway. He was still as handsome as he’d been the last day she’d spent with him.
In spite of refusing to revisit the past, her mind’s eye took her there. The social workers had pulled up in a black car and told her to get her things. They’d literally yanked her arms away from Colt’s neck as she’d clung to him.
Once in the car, she’d hopped out, afraid she’d never have the opportunity to hug them again. She’d hurried into Brant’s arms and noticed a tear in his eye. That tear was her undoing.
“Princess, are you with us?” Marty, her crew chief, snapped in her ear. “Princess! Is everything okay?”
She stared down pit road and realized then she was the only driver standing beside their car. She strapped on her helmet and slid inside the cage, taking the time to fasten her belt and prepare for the start.
“Princess! Come in! You doin’ all right out there, doll?” Marty asked. Her crew chief had high hopes. He wanted her to bring home the win, but if Princess didn’t get her head screwed on straight, she’d end up in the wall.
Her teammate Larry Burkenton was in her ear, too, “Princess, I need some help out there. You’re a lightweight, but I don’t wanna carry your little ass to the finish.”
She blinked at that and shook off the fantasies. “The day you carry me across the finish line will be the day you bury me!”
“Don’t tempt fate, sugar,” Larry shot back. “We’re not exactly getting ready for a game of golf here today.”
“Damn,” she said. “And here I thought I’d get to play with some balls.”
“Shit!” Marty screamed. “Princess! Watch it out there today. You never know who is listening, and I really don’t want to spend the next forty-eight hours listening to playbacks of your foul language on every sports show in America.”
“Me either,” she said. “In fact, I’ve gotta a few men to impress. I don’t want them hearing me talk like a tramp.”
“You gotta be one to earn the title,” Larry said.
“I’ll let you know when my legs are open for visitors, Larry,” she said, smiling as she gripped the wheel. “I know you’ll be first in line.” She gunned her engine then, and deliberately shut out the verbal retaliation. She liked Larry, but at times, their banter got out of hand. They’d wheeled into pit road several times, mad as the daylights at one another.
Her mind began to travel again. She thought of all the things she’d forgotten to ask Brant and Colt. She really wished she’d asked if they were seeing anyone. She really wished she’d kissed them. Or better still, invited them back for a drink.
“I wonder if it’s okay for a woman to invite a man back to her camper for a nightcap at eight o’clock in the evening?” she asked, thinking aloud.
Snickers came at her from all the way around. “Shit.”
“Damn,” one driver said, transmitting through the airwaves loud and clear. “Whenever you want it that early, you come see me.”
She recognized that voice and she’d also put a face with the body she’d seen the night before. She wasn’t sure why she thought of it now, but she fired back with, “David Lambert, is that you?”
“I’m touched. She acknowledges the little guy,” David said, apparently starting to take stock in what others around him believed. He hadn’t won a race, and he wasn’t going to win one. All he cared about was the party.
“About that,” she said, realizing hundreds, if not thousands were listening in. “I wanted to let you know I saw your little punch-and-go last night outside my window.”
“Huh?” David was dumbfounded. As usual.
“My trailer is set up near one of the spotlights, hon. I saw the outline of that thing clear as day. ‘Little guy’ sums it up.”
Laughter and outright cackling filled the lines then.
“Damn it, Princess!” Marty screamed out. “Get your head out of the gutter.”
David grunted. “One of these days, you’re gonna be on here teasing about what you’d do with a guy if you had one and somebody out there—somebody who doesn’t know you as well as we do—is gonna look you up.”
“I’ll still be watching for you, David,” she teased. “At least if I’m with you, I know you ain’t gonna hurt me with that thing.”
The outrageous laughter continued.
Princess looked over in the pits and saw Marty throw his headset. Well, it wouldn’t be racing if he didn’t throw it at least once. And her name wouldn’t be Princess Sterling if she didn’t start or end a race with a fine.
“You’ll see me today, baby,” David promised. “And you’ll catch the hell you deserve. Paybacks are a whore. They bring it when everyone is watching.”
“Then bring it, babe. Bring it hard.”
Marty said, “Princess, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Time to acknowledge Marty. “Hey, Marty! There’s my man!” she called out, forever the flirt.
“Where the hell were you when I was trying to get through to you privately a minute ago? I was afraid you’d stroked out in this heat or something.”
Evidently, Marty would rather hear her bitching about being hot instead of on the radio giving the other drivers a difficult time.
“I’m right here. Where else would I be?”
“There for a minute, I was beginning to think we’d lost you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m a winner,” she reminded him. “I seem to remember someone telling me to always remember that. Are you doubting me now, Marty?”
“Not at all, doll,” he said, clearing his throat. “You got this, little woman.”
“You’re damn straight,” she said, thinking of Brant and Colt. “I’m ready to bring it home for the team.”
A few seconds later, the Master of Ceremonies said those coveted words, “Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines.”
The track came alive with the roaring sound of massive horsepower, and a few minutes later, Princess was fighting to keep her pole position. She got up in turn four and was so worried about who was on her ass, she didn’t see old Neil “Cocky” Cochran until he sped by her. She spent the next few minutes running in second place, chasing his sorry ass around the track.
“Wreck up ahead! Wreck up ahead! Stay low! Stay low!” Marty screamed.
A caution flag came out and she pulled into the pits, heeding Marty’s advice and coming in for new tires.
“You’re doing great out there today, baby girl. Hang with us. Hang with us.”
“How many were in that wreckage back there?” she asked, wondering which contenders were knocked out.
“Don’t worry about that. Think forward,” Marty said. “And stay alert.”
“Marty, if I were any more alert—”
“Keep it clean,” Marty reminded her. “You’ve already been fined out the ass for your profanity on here.”
She sighed. “I’ll keep it clean,” she promised. “But thinking dirty thoughts about two sexy fellows I know…is that permitted?”
“Damn it, Princess!” Marcy screamed. “You just enjoy giving the tabloids something to talk about.”
She smiled. “I love you, Marty. Now, get your head in the right place and help me win this thing.”
* * * *
During the next caution, she discovered she was likely to get slapped with two more fines. She was back on the track following the pace car around when she told Marty, “I’m going to play the sexist card. They’re picking on me because I’m a woman. Men can say whatever the hell they want, but let a woman say ‘fuck’ or ‘screw’ and she’s slapped
with a fine.”
“If that’s true, you just caught two more,” Marty told her.
“We’ll see,” she said, punching the pedal as soon as the pace car moved his sexy little bumper out of her way. “Here we go, Marty. Think big and beautiful things.” A beat later she added, “Larry, I’m glad you’re my partner today. Cause I know you’re gonna get a hard-on outta this.”
She sped down the track, hit turn one as fast as she could go and looked in her rearview mirror to find David coming up quickly behind her. He was pissed and she reminded herself of this as she moved down low and tapped her brakes by accident. David spun, a car T-boned him, and three more piled on top.
“What the fuck was that?” Larry yelled. “Are you trying to get everyone killed?”
“My foot slipped!” she called out.
“The hell it did!” Larry yelled back. “Fuck!”
Under caution again, which was typical for Bristol, David filled the airwaves with all sorts of profanity for which Princess assumed he’d never be fined. However, there was a lingering threat left behind when he said, “I’ll kill that bitch if she ever does that again.”
“That’s racing, David,” she reminded him, quite accustomed to the threats thrown out in the heat of anger. “And I’m racing today. You, on the other hand, are done for the night.”
Chapter Eleven
Colt and Brant were waiting for her at her trailer. “Are you sure this is the one?” Colt asked, studying Brant.
“I’m not certain. I just went with what that kid at the gate told us.” He paced in front of the door and knocked for the tenth or eleventh time.
“What’d you tell Kelly?”
“I told her I’d be home tomorrow or the next day, and she asked me if this had anything to do with Princess. I told her yes, and she didn’t like it.”
“So you told her goodbye.”
“Something like that,” Brant admitted.
“So you’re done?”
“Just like that,” Brant said. “They’re easy when they come and difficult when they go.”
Acres, Natalie - Pole Position [Country Roads 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 5