by Davida Lynn
Chance was pulled out of his quiet space, but Heather was still present with him. “Ready to get this over with."
“Don't sound so damn excited. It's only the biggest race of your career." Any calming done by Pops was easily undone by DJ. The old man wasn't known for sugarcoating anything, even when it really mattered.
“Yeah, yeah.” Chance knew the car would do just fine. His mind was back to Heather. As soon as his laps were in, and he was on the starting grid for the Indy 500, he’d march up to her and ask her out.
**
The crew pushed him forward. A camera dangling from a long boom circled over him, and a myriad of photographers attempted to blind him. Pops stood at the nose of the car, waiting for race control to queue him.
Chance counted the laps of the car in front of him on track. After three times past, Derek twirled his finger in the air, and Kiwi fired up the electric starter. No matter how much meditation Chance did, his heart rate was still pushing 150. He knew it would be closer to 180 during the race.
“There's a wind pushing out of the east, so go easy on turn four. Give them hell." With that, the crew chief stepped to the side and waved Chance out on the track.
On his out lap, Chance double checked all settings on his steering wheel. Fuel maps, suspension settings, and a host of other minute changes were available with the turn of several knobs. For his qualifying run, not only was the engine set for maximum power and the suspension stiffest, but the team would go so far as to tape over any tiny gap on the exterior of the car. When it came to qualifying at Indy, every one thousandth of a second counted.
Heading north on the back stretch, Chance buried his foot to the floor. Every sense focused on the car. He listened for anything irregular, smelt for anything burning, and felt vibrations in his body, searching for anything that could signal a problem. Ever since the team had rebuilt the car, she felt absolutely perfect.
As Chance shot down the front straight and over the yard of bricks, he had a quick moment to think of every one of his races that had led up to this moment. He had won some, lost some, and lost some spectacularly, but every outcome and decision had been worth it, because Chance was about to qualify for the Indy 500.
Less than forty seconds went by, and he was back on the front straight. As was tradition for DJ and the All American team, he stood against the pit wall just inside the race track and waved his driver on the large green flag. Lap one of four began.
With the throttle still at 100%, Chance dove into turn one. He could feel the car flirting on the edge of grip. Just one mile an hour too fast, or one over-correction on the steering wheel, and the back end of the race car would snap loose without any warning, sending him out of control into the unforgiving concrete wall.
She held, though, and Chance straightened the wheel momentarily in the short straight between turns one and two. The backstretch was over half a mile in length, but he was down it into turn three in just two quick breaths. Before he knew it, one lap was in the books.
Derek came over the radio with the lap speed. "223 and change. You're sitting 23rd right now. How’d she feel coming onto the front straight?"
“Stable as hell. I see the flags waving, but the wind isn't on the track,” Chance replied, already into turn two.
“Don't be afraid to carry the car all the way out to the wall, then. Let's see if we can gain a little on this lap."
With the new information, Chance didn't lift his foot off of the accelerator coming out of turn four. As the car posted up towards the outside wall, he didn't fight it. The wind still wasn't disrupting the balance of his car, and Chance could feel the extra speed he carried onto the front straight.
Again, Derek gave him his speed. “223 and a half. Faster lap, would put you in 21st”
Chance pushed the boundaries, diving deeper into the turns and swinging out wider than he had any previous single lap around the track. On the third lap, frustration began to claw its way into his mind. He knew the car head speed. There was no way 21st was the best he could do.
Looking up in a flash, Chance saw the flags at the top of the grandstands still dancing in the invisible breeze. Coming out of turn four, his right wheels stopped less than an inch away from the solid wall. Chance was manhandling the car, but she responded beautifully to every movement.
"226. Holy shit. Give me one more lap like that, Chance." Pops sounded ecstatic.
One more lap, and it would be official. Even if everyone went back out and set a faster time, he would be in the big show. Chance knew that wouldn't happen, though. If he went back out and put in four laps above 226, he had a shot at the fast nine. The team might have a shot at fighting for the pole.
Just like that, it was done. The checkered flag waved, and Chance let his foot off the throttle and coasted into turn one.
Pops came over the radio, the calm fatherly voice back. "226 two. Average lap time 39.4 seconds. Right now we sit 15th. I don't know where you pulled that speed from, but god damn. That was one hell of a run, Chance."
He brought the car onto the backstretch, keeping the car close to the infield as the second to last car in line passed at full throttle.
His heart was barely contained to his chest. Every moment of Chance’s life had been leading up to this race, and he was in. That wasn’t what had him practically jumping out of the seat. Chance knew he had a shot at the top nine. A few minor tweaks on the car, and he could get there.
Once he reached the entrance to pit lane, Chance killed the engine, letting the car coast to a silent stop in the All-American pit. The crew was all smiles. After everything they’d been through, the success was just as much theirs as it was Chance’s.
He unlocked the five-point harness and pulled himself from the car. Frank’s thick arms pulled Chance in for a big bear hug before he could even get his helmet off. “Fuck yes!’
Chance felt the air get sucked from his lungs. Frank was a beast, lifting Chance off of his feet.
He squeezed out, “Ok, ok. Put me down, already.” Frank did.
After talking over the adjustments he wanted on the car, Chance headed for Heather’s post.
Derek called after. “Where are you off to?”
“Just knocking one thing after another off my list.”
The noise had been deafening, but at least things had calmed down for a bit. Car after car went tearing down the track, and it seemed unending. Heather could barely understand the announcer booming over the speakers. The earplugs that she had bought were top notch.
The crowds were beyond anything she had experienced so far, and Heather thanked the twisted series of events that got her moved from the parking lot. She couldn’t imagine what a nightmare that must be. She liked working inside the track. The people-watching was excellent, and everyone was in good spirits, unlike the early morning people trying to park in the near darkness.
She kept her attention focused away from pit lane, checking people’s tickets to make sure they were allowed into that exclusive area. Every once and a while, though, she would turn and see if Chance was around.
It was silly, and she knew it. The last thing Heather needed was to get involved with another macho jerk. Heather needed to put her head down, finish the summer’s work, then get started on her master’s. That was what she needed to do, but definitely not what she wanted.
Heather had tried to focus on school. The semester was three months away, but she had a lengthy reading list. Between the hours at the track and time with Josie, the list wasn’t getting any shorter. Be smart. Heather repeated the phrase, but her eyes were still searching for him. Her heart was still searching for him.
In her mind, he stepped out of some fog like a superhero, ready to sweep her off of her feet. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He was rich, powerful, and unstoppable.
In reality, Chance was an average height, just a few inches taller than Heather. He was handsome, but boyish. His eyes weren’t all that alluring, but there was something in them that kept Heather in
terested.
Chance wasn’t rich. According to him, he was flat broke. He was no Prince Charming, but Heather knew that was a bullshit notion. Chance had something, though.
He was unstoppable. She got that impression hearing Josie read off all the series he had raced in. The man wouldn’t let anything keep him from getting behind the wheel of some speed machine. Heather liked that ambition, even if the danger was so, so present. The only reason he had a drive was because there was a driver in the hospital.
What it came down to was one thing. Chance was powerful. He may not have been high up on the ladder, but Heather saw the power that he had. When Rob took that stupid swing at Chance, she saw that power. He probably could have knocked Rob out cold, but he resisted. Chance held himself back because he was smart, and he had control over his power.
She watched him coming. He didn’t walk in slow motion, but Heather imagined that he did. She wanted to imagine all kinds of things with Chance. His smile made her forget about all those serious things that Heather had resigned herself to. Instead, his contagious smile.
“Hi you.” She noticed the sweat on his brow, and the dark stain on the tight white Nomex that drivers wore beneath their suits. It was manly, to say the least.
Chance’s smile grew wider. “How are you?”
Heather shrugged. “I don’t know how you can stand being in those cars for hours on end. I’ve got one hell of a headache brewing.”
“You get used to it, I guess.” Chance looked around him, turning all the way around. “I’d say it’s worth it.”
“When you’re sixty-five and completely deaf, we’ll see if you feel the same way.”
Chance spoke, his words rapid. “Are you hungry? When do you get off work? Sorry. I’m still riding high on the adrenaline. I can’t stop thinking about asking you out.”
She felt it coming, but it was still a lovely little shock to her heart. She had wanted Chance to ask her out. There was more to him than he let on, and Heather wanted to find out more.
As Heather brushed her wind-swept hair back behind an ear, she stumbled through her answer. “Actually. Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what time you get off work…I guess your job is a bit different. Um, yeah. My shift is over at four.”
His smile widened. “I don’t think I’ll be free until five. We made our run, but I’m heading back out. We’ve got a shot at the top nine.”
“That’s great!” Heather didn’t really know what it meant, but she was excited by Chance’s excitement. She hated being ignorant about racing, but it wasn’t a world she was used to; it was unknown after unknown to her. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I could fight for the pole. I could start first on race day.”
“Oh my god. That’s big. Even I know that’s big.”
Chance nodded. “It’s very big. The pole winner wins one hundred grand before the race even starts.”
Heather’s eyes went wide. “Well, hell yes you should go for it!” Her voice squeaked, and her face flushed with embarrassment. Heather threw her hands up over her face, but Chance’s fingers pulled them away.
She burst into a fit of giggles, half from her over-excitement, and half from his touch. She pulled herself together, not wanting to seem like a girly-girl. “If you get the pole, you are most definitely paying.” She punctuated her point by jabbing her finger against Chance’s chest.
“You got it.”
Heather gave Chance her number and watched him head back to the pits, her heart rattling out of control in her chest.
Heather had to swipe her card twice to clock out, because she was too eager and rammed it through. On the second try, the computer beeped out its approval, and she sped to the stands where Josie was waiting.
Her best friend must have read it on Heather’s face. “Oh, tell me, tell me, tell me!”
“He asked me out. He walked right up to me after he qualified his car.”
Josie’s eyes went wide. “Really? That sounds amazing. Was it amazing?”
Heather couldn’t hide the smile on her face. She sat down in the grandstands. “No. It wasn’t amazing. I found it terribly dull. A real bore.”
“Okay, okay, Jane Austen. Calm down. When are you going out?”
“Tonight.” Heather put a hand over her eyes and looked down the pit lane. She couldn’t see him, but it was a mass of people. “He’s going to call me once he’s done.”
“I thought you said he already qualified.”
“He did. I guess they get a second chance to try to get into the top nine. If they’re in the top nine, they get another shot at the pole.”
Josie looked from one end of the front straight to the other. “I’ve been here soaking up the sun all day, and I haven’t learned a single thing about this. There are a few hot drivers, though.” Pointing at the screen, Josie said, “They interview them after they qualify.”
Heather perked up. “Did they interview Chance? What did he say?”
With a shrug, Josie said, “Probably. I’m not gonna lie. I fell asleep for a little bit this afternoon.”
“How can you sleep with this kind of noise?”
“It’s actually really soothing in a way. Lap after lap of that noise is hypnotic in some way. Never mind that. You’ve got a date with a racing driver!”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Heather’s voice trailed off, dazed with happiness.
Their attention turned to the giant screen across the track from them.
Open Qualifying Begins
On cue, a car’s engine fired up, and Josie and Heather watched it pull onto the track. Though the two women barely understood what was happening, Heather had a big stake in the game, and therefore Josie did, too. They were excited, cheering when each car would shoot past them toward turn one.
Not long after the open qualifying session began, Heather pointed up at the screen. A camera swirled around the black and yellow machine that Chance drove. “That’s him. That’s his car.”
Her heart raced as fast as his car as the two friends watched Chance take another shot at the top nine. For a sport that she never cared about before, Heather’s heart was in her throat as the green flag flew for Chance.
She knew how quickly the cars circled the track, but it felt like time stretched before her as she waited for Chance to complete his first lap.
Her fists were clenched as he passed her. When was the last time she had been so nervous? Heather couldn’t remember.
226.599 miles per hour. The screen flashed his time, and Heather waited to see if that was fast enough. A few seconds later, Provisional 8th popped up. She squealed, grabbing Josie’s hand.
“Yes! Yes, it’s fast enough.”
Josie just laughed. She was probably embarrassed by how excited Heather was, but so what? There were lots of people cheering him on, and Heather’s heart soared when she heard them. From her post near the garages, she couldn’t tell who was applauding whom. Now, she saw that he was something of an underdog to the fans, ready to take on the big boys.
The yellow and black hornet zoomed by a second time, and 226.437 appeared before her. Still fast enough to stay in 8th.
“Come on, come on.” Every muscle in her body was tense as Heather waited for Chance to finish his run.
“He’s gonna do it.” Even Josie sounded excited, which surprised Heather. Josie was the only one she knew who hated sports more than she did. Josie was taking a real step from her comfort zone even being at the race track.
For the third time, Chance shot past them. Heather’s eyes were glued to the screen in front of them. 225.988. Slower, but he was still fast enough for ninth place. Heather didn’t think she could make it one more lap.
“Oh my god, it’s like you’re in labor.” Josie tried to pull her hand away.
Heather hadn’t even realized what she was doing. “Sorry, sorry.”
Her eyes were glued to the far end of the front straight. She couldn’t see his car, and probably wouldn’t until it was halfway down. She prayed,
wished, bargained to anyone who was listening for Chance to get into the top nine. It wasn’t about him paying for dinner. It wasn’t even about bragging rights. For the first time, Heather had someone to believe in besides herself. Josie was her best friend, but Heather hated watching her tread water. Chance was different. He was a go-getter, eager for the fight.
The squeal of the tires made her heart stop. Straining her eyes, Heather tried to spot his car, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. The smoke was the first thing that she saw, and it focused her attention just in time to hear the sickening thump that followed. Sparks flew upwards and a scraping sound replaced the squeal of rubber. His car came into view, twisted and spinning like a top.
Parts shot off of his car and floated down from the air, one wheel bouncing along the outside wall. Heather stood up, a hand covering her mouth. “No…”
Just short of the start/finish line, Chance’s car came to a rest, the front end of the car completely sheered off.
“Visor up if you’re alright.” Pops’ voice was shaky at best. He wasn’t prepared for two bad accidents in two weeks. Everyone would be standing on the pit wall, staring at the remains of the car stopped on track. DJ would still be at pit entrance, hopping into the golf-cart toward the wreck.
Chance’s voice came over the radio. “I’m alright. Dizzy and pissed, but I’m alright. Sorry, boys. Pushed a little too hard.”
In the car, Chance lifted his visor and hung his head. It was done. They didn’t have the spares to fix the car. Even if there was a team willing to part with one of their backups, All-American didn’t have the money to buy it. Every muscle in his body was rigid with rage. Unhooking the steering wheel from the column, Chance tossed it in front of him onto the track.
“Damnit. God damnit.” He focused on the anger, because there was sincere and crippling pain hiding just behind it.