Start Your Engines

by Jim Cangany

  “Crystal.”

  “Then you know where to find her. You’re a good man who’s come far, Brad. I wish you the best.”

  Barbara left him in the twilight, the mysterious time between light and dark. He’d spent so many years in the twilight until Gabrielle came along, took his hand, and led him back into the sun. And now that she was going away, where would that leave him? He couldn’t bear the horrific thought of returning to the half-alive existence that was the twilight.

  He also refused to be sucked all the way back into the frigid loneliness of the dark. He’d die before visiting that hell again.

  “It’s not over yet.” He turned on his heel in the direction of the motorhome, and Gabrielle. Was his future on the line? He didn’t want to be overly dramatic, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that maybe it was.

  • • •

  Gabrielle was on the couch, her feet propped up and a cold pack covering her eyes. Her migraine had retreated to a dull thudding at the back of her skull. In time, the pain reliever would kick in, and even that discomfort would be gone.

  The moment Gabrielle arrived in the motorhome, she’d let Meg know she’d given the team the news. Her manager responded a few minutes later with a thumbs-up emoji. A few minutes after that, she received a text from Jensen congratulating her on the win.

  A call with her AES buddies would have to be arranged. She’d known them for too long to be worried about their reactions, though. They’d be happy for her. No worries there.

  A win and a job racing in the A-1 Circuit. A race-car driver couldn’t have a day better than that. So why did she feel so ambivalent about the whole thing?

  She used her yoga breathing to relax. The steady, cleansing in and out brushed away the negative and helped her focus on the positive. She was a good driver who worked hard and was now reaping the benefits of her efforts. Nothing had been given to her. Everything she had, she’d earned. Including some pretty intense feelings from Brad.

  Brad.

  She didn’t need a mechanical engineer to figure out he was the reason for her mixed feelings. She laughed at the irony of that, after more than ten years of unrequited love—and yes, it was love, she wouldn’t deny it—he seemed to have the same feelings for her, and now she was ready to leave him behind. Or was she?

  When the headache subsided, she went to the fridge for a drink. A tall glass of coconut water always made her feel better. In the middle of pouring, raised voices penetrated her motorhome. She recognized both of them.

  This wasn’t good.

  Gabrielle opened the motorhome door, which smacked into something. An oof was followed by something heavy hitting the ground. To her right, Brad was scowling with clenched fists. Once she closed the door, she found Chas pushing himself up with one hand while the other was covering his nose.

  “You’re as clumsy off the track as you are on the track.” He spat at her feet. In the gloom, it was impossible to tell whether it was blood or just spit. “You’re nothing but a—”

  With the speed of a panther, Brad had Chas pinned against the motorhome. “Don’t you ever speak to her that way again. In fact, don’t even think it, or I’ll make sure your pretty nose is broken instead of just bumped.”

  “Aww, is poor Brad angry his girlfriend is dumping him so she can go to Europe?” Chas pushed Brad away. “Come on, take a swing. You know you want to. Of course, you’ll probably miss.”

  “Don’t.” Gabrielle stepped between them and eased him back a few steps. “Let it go, Brad. Think about what we’ve accomplished, you and me and the team. Make us proud and make J.P. proud, too. Be the better man.”

  She didn’t want to bring up their dear, fallen friend. Judging by the maniacal look in Brad’s eyes, Gabrielle needed something bigger than her, bigger than the both of them, to bring him to his senses, though. Getting Brad to talk about J.P. had been a major breakthrough in his therapy. “Be the better man,” was one of J.P. favorite mantras. If he crashed out on track, or even playing Mario Kart, he didn’t get mad. He prided himself on taking the high road.

  Could Brad do the same?

  “You’re right. He’s not worth it.” He turned Gabrielle around until she was facing Chas and then put his arm around her. His anger at the other man was still palpable, but it was dissipating with each breath he took.

  “Take a long look, Gabrielle. We have two races left. This is the man, and I use the term loosely, who we’re going to beat.”

  “This pipsqueak?” Whenever Chas had tried to bait her, Gabrielle had taken the high road and held her tongue. She wouldn’t lose any sleep over one incident of name-calling. “Looking forward to it.”

  Brad smiled. “I could use a beer. Will you join me?”

  “I’d love to.” She nodded toward Chas, who was still backed up against the motorhome. “What about him?”

  “He’s not invited. This is an offer for winners only.” Brad opened the door to the motorhome. “After you, champion.”

  A relieved Gabrielle stepped back inside. She would have totally understood if Brad had let his temper get the better of him and slugged Chas. But he didn’t. Instead, he listened to her. And when he was finished listening, he showed Chas he still had her back.

  The confrontation with Chas drove home how much Brad had changed. And all of it was for the better. Had her support as he faced his demons help get him this far down the road to happiness? She hoped so. The mere thought of her helping Brad find contentment left her with a wide smile.

  A little while later, Brad put his beer on the polished wood tabletop. “Can I ask you something?”

  Oh, God. Here we go. She knew an interrogation about the Jensen offer was coming. Better to get it over sooner, rather than later. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I was so angry. I really was ready to punch Chas. But when you mentioned J.P.’s saying about being the better man, the switch went off. How did you know to say that?”

  “I know you.” She thought back to the times Brad beat J.P. in Mario Kart. Brad would try to gloat, but J.P. always used that response. Then they’d race again and be laughing their heads off. “I had a feeling it would work.”

  Brad rubbed his forehead. “I could have made a real mess of things if you hadn’t talked me off the edge.”

  Gabrielle took his hand and massaged the calluses on his palms. “I care about you, more than I know how to say. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this Jensen thing. What I do know is I want you to be happy, because you deserve it.”

  He opened his mouth but then closed it and gave her a smile instead. “Tell me about the offer.”

  “Really? You didn’t seem too happy when I told you and Barbara about it.”

  “It caught me off guard. But I want you to be happy, too. So tell me all about it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabrielle was slicing tomatoes from Helen’s garden when Bridget stomped to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

  “Are Bradley and Amy on their way?” Helen took a loaf of garlic bread out of the oven and left it on the stove to cool.

  “No. Your son gave in to your granddaughter’s begging, and now they’re going to stay out until it gets dark.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel as if she wanted to rip it to shreds.

  “Now, honey, with school starting next week, I think you can give her a little slack. Besides, I think it’s good to see your brother spending time with Amy.”

  Bridget slumped into a chair at the dining room table. “Mom, please don’t start in on your ‘Amy needs a father figure in her life’ thing.”

  Helen placed a serving bowl of pasta on the table. “I wasn’t going to. Do you have the salad ready, Gabrielle? I’m merely happy to see Bradley spending time with his family again.”

  “If you ask me, he should be spending more time with Gabrielle than with my kid.” Bridget shot her a look. “Sorry. I just, well, you know, your time together is getting short.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Gabrielle distributed
silverware for three instead of five. “To be honest, he’s been kind of distant the past few days.”

  Complaining about Brad in front of his mother was a gamble. She and Bridget had already talked about Brad’s behavior, and Bridget was firmly on Gabrielle’s side. Helen was wonderful, but blood was thicker than water.

  Bridget was finished with her salad when she almost dropped her fork. “Sweet Jesus, I’ll bet Brad’s avoiding you, Gabrielle.” She took a long drink of her sparkling water. “I can’t believe how much of a coward my brother is.”

  “He’s not a coward, dear,” Helen said.

  “Who’s not a coward?” Brad asked, as he and Amy stood in the hallway. “Why don’t you go wash your hands and face, Accelerating Amy?”

  When the little girl headed to the bathroom, Brad made his way to the kitchen sink, his footfalls the only break in the sudden silence.

  In short order, Amy pranced in and dropped into the seat next to Gabrielle. She put her hand up for a high five. “New personal best tonight. Uncle Brad says I’m getting better at drifting through the corners, so I’m not scrubbing off as much speed.”

  Gabrielle grinned at Amy’s use of the term “scrubbing off.” The little girl was only seven, but she was already talking like a race-car driver.

  “That’s fabulous.” She returned the high five. “Tell me about it.”

  Brad joined them at the table with additional utensils. “Pretend Gabrielle’s your engineer. You can do it.”

  While they worked their way through Helen’s spaghetti and meatballs, Amy recapped an evening behind the wheel that was equal parts thrilling and frightening.

  “It was awesome. I pretended I was you when you were holding off Chump Chas at Los Angeles. Want to race after dinner?”

  Despite the admonition from Bridget not to call people names, Gabrielle couldn’t contain her laughter at Amy’s insult. The girl’s dedication to her warmed her heart. It also caused a lump to form in her throat when she recalled her phone call earlier in the day. It was to finalize plans for her visit to the Jensen facility.

  A move to Europe would mean starting over yet again. In the past, things like finding a place to live, learning the local customs, and redoing her wireless plan were exciting. They were signs her career was headed in the right direction.

  Now, those tasks sounded like a big hassle. Maybe it was a symptom of fear at taking such a monster leap up the ladder. She didn’t think the top rung would break under her, but if it did, the fall would be long and hard.

  That was it. She was simply nervous about starting her career in A-1. All drivers new to the series probably felt the exact way she was feeling. That had to be it.

  And not the man seated across from her at the table, whom she would miss with all her heart.

  Brad wiped his plate with a slice of garlic bread. “Gabrielle and Ms. Sawyer have a Racer Girlz appearance tomorrow, kiddo. Maybe you can race her another day.”

  “Okay.” Amy drained her milk and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, causing Bridget to close her eyes and shake her head. “Hey, Gabrielle, Uncle Brad said he would get me my own kart and sign me up for a league next year. Will you come see me race?”

  “Oh.” Apparently nobody had told Amy she wouldn’t be around next year. In desperation she looked toward Brad, but he shrugged and took his plate to the kitchen. The message was clear.

  You’re the one who’s leaving. You can be the one to tell her.

  “I will if I can. When you get your league schedule, maybe your mom or your uncle can send it to me.”

  “If you get your league schedule.” Bridget reached for Amy’s now empty plate. “What have we agreed you have to do in order to race?”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Brush my teeth twice a day and keep my room picked up.” She let out a long, noisy sigh.

  “Sounds just like you when you were her age, Bridget.” Brad scooped up Amy and headed for the door before his sister could respond. “Come on, kid. Time to put the karts away.”

  Gabrielle was silent as she helped Helen and Bridget clean up after dinner. Telling Amy good-bye hadn’t crossed her mind. Now she had to figure out how to do that.

  When they were finished, Helen produced a banana cream pie. “Patrick dropped this off earlier. Why don’t I brew a pot of decaf and we can enjoy the fruits of his labor on the porch?”

  While they sipped their drinks and devoured Patrick’s heavenly creation, the high-pitched whine of two go-kart engines drifted across the field.

  “I thought they were going to put the karts away.” It was far from dark, but the diminishing daylight had Gabrielle worried.

  “It’s my brother acting like he did when he was a teenager. Pushing the envelope right up to the edge. Drove Mom and Dad crazy.” Despite the disapproving tone, Bridget couldn’t hide a smile.

  “Officially, I’d have to say he’s being a bad influence on Amy. Unofficially, Edward and I have been trading high fives over his recent behavior. It’s been a long time since Brad’s been this happy.” Helen took a drink. “You deserve a lot of credit for that, Gabrielle.”

  “It’s kind of you to say, but I didn’t do much.” Except drive him away by choosing to leave once they had something good, no, great, going between them.

  Bridget gave her a light slap on the shoulder. “Save it, chickie. If it weren’t for you, Brad would still be Mr. Gloomy Gus and Amy wouldn’t be pursuing extreme sports.”

  “So, thank you, I think?”

  “You’re totally welcome.” Bridget ran her finger around the rim of her coffee mug. “You know, Gabrielle, ever since . . . that night, I haven’t had much use for sentimentality. The hard realities of life, I guess. But these past few months, getting to hang out again, watching Amy take to you like a duck to water, they’ve been pretty awesome. I guess what I’m trying to say is,” she took Gabrielle’s hand in hers, “I’m going to miss you.”

  “We’re all going to miss you, dear. It’s been so much fun having you here.” Helen nodded at Bridget while she took a bite of dessert.

  “We want to throw a going-away party for you. A ‘thanks for the memories and go kick some butt in A-1’ kind of thing.”

  Despite the mid-eighties temperature, Gabrielle’s blood went cold. It was going to be hard enough saying good-bye to these kind people, who truly were her second family. A party would make it darn near impossible.

  “No. Please don’t go to the trouble. I’m the one who should be thanking you. Not the other way around.”

  “Too late. Plans are already in the works.” Bridget got to her feet. “I need to pull the plug on them. Want to come with or do you want to sit here and whine to Mom about your party?”

  Gabrielle joined her. “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d totally hate you right now.”

  “I know.” Bridget smiled and snaked her arm through Gabrielle’s. “Shall we, best friend?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brad ran through his pre-trip checklist for a third, and final, time. Regardless of the fact that a chunk of his heart died each day because of the inexorable march toward Gabrielle’s departure, he had a job to do.

  There were two races left, the Pennsylvania Oval followed by the Wine Country Road Course. The team was performing like a well-oiled machine, and Gabrielle was driving like a cross between A.J. Foyt and Helio Castroneves. With a combination like that, both races were winnable.

  Satisfied all items on his checklist were accounted for, Brad knocked on Mandy’s door to check on the item he’d left off of the list.

  “Good morning, Ms. Media Relations Manager. How goes the project?”

  “Everything’s a go. All of the relevant parties have been sworn to secrecy.”

  After discussing a few final details, Brad went to check in with Scott. When they were finished with the meeting, Brad slapped him on the back. “Two more races. We can do it.”

  “True dat.” Scott gave him a high five. “Look, I couldn’t help noticing you and Gabrielle haven
’t been as close, shall we say, since she made her announcement. Are you guys okay?”

  Brad gritted his teeth. His withdrawal from Gabrielle was bound to be noticed sooner or later. He’d been hoping for later, like some time after she left for Europe. So much for that.

  “Is it that bad?”

  “No, but then again, I’ve known you a lot longer than everybody else on the team.”

  “I never meant—”

  “Dude, I get it. We don’t mean for a lot of things to happen, like you falling in love with her. All I’m saying is don’t leave any regrets out there, okay? Now, let’s go win a championship.”

  Stunned into silence by Scott’s words, Brad wandered back to his office. Was his old friend right? Had he fallen in love with Gabrielle? Well, given the way his heart ached every time he thought about her leaving, he supposed he had.

  Wow.

  Brad Thomas, the poster boy for the old pop tune “I Am a Rock,” whose mantra was to play it safe to avoid getting hurt, was in love with Gabrielle.

  First he wanted to laugh. Then he wanted to cry. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with her, but he had, nonetheless. And now she was leaving. How much of it was because he’d never told her how much she meant to him? Any amount was too much.

  He pounded his fist on the desk. He’d actually had it all, a great job and the amazing Gabrielle Marquez in his life. And because he was too stupid to realize it, he was going to lose Gabrielle. God, sometimes life was so unfair.

  Well, all he could do now was make the best of things. That sure was a bitter pill to swallow.

  The team arrived at the Pennsylvania Speedway to face temperatures so blistering, two of the tire changers fried an egg on an asphalt access road. The finished product tasted awful, but it was cooked all the way through.

  After a practice session that saw three crashes attributed to the heat, Brad assembled the team. There was concern in a few crew members’ eyes.

  Gabrielle was grinning. “Give me fresh tires. I’ll take care of the rest.”