Hot Laps

by Shey Stahl

  A NOVEL BY SHEY STAHL

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, sponsors, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, dead or living, is coincidental.

  The opinions expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of NASCAR, its employees, or its representatives, teams, and drivers within the series. The car numbers used within this book are not representing those drivers who use those numbers either past or present in any NASCAR series, USAC or The World of Outlaw Series and are used for the purpose of this fiction story only. The author does not endorse any product, driver, or other material racing in NASCAR, USAC or The World of Outlaw Series. The opinions in this work of fiction are simply that, opinions and should not be held liable for any product purchase, and or effect of any racing series based on those opinions. This book is told through first person narration and switches point of view between characters.

  Copyright © 2014 by Shey Stahl

  Published in the United States of America

  ISBN-10: 1499277598

  ISBN-13: 978-1499277593

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publishers permission. Criminal copyright infringement including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of Shey Stahl.

  Warning: This book contains adult content, explicit language, and sexual situations.

  Cover Art: Allusion Graphics, LLC and Elaine York

  www.allusiongraphics.com

  Interior Design and Formatting/Proofing:

  Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC

  I could literally fill this book with people who need to be thanked and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  The Boy, thank you for being there for me through my worst days (the ones where I wear no make-up and ignore you all day to write a story) to my best days (the days I look like a fucking lady and take me to dinner). Not a day goes by that I don’t see how lucky I am.

  Honey Girl, sweets, you get me. You’re growing into the most beautiful little girl and you’re the reason I kept going.

  My family, thank you for being there when no one else was.

  Shanna, oh sweets, how I love you! Thanks for always being there for me. I think we were meant to find each other on so many levels. Not just as friends more like you’re my soul sister, you just get me, too. Thank you so much for not only pre-reading this book but offering up ideas and my daily inspirational photos for whatever I’m working on. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.

  Janet, thank you for so many facts about a woman’s vagina to add to this story. You’ll see that many made it in the book, lol! Love you! When I think about you I think about throwing back beers with my best friends on a tailgate. Thank you, lover!

  Elaine, the girl who knows my diary, every page and doggy eared note. I’m so glad you messaged me because I never knew what I was missing. Thank you for trying to teach me where commas go. I, still, don’t, understand. See?

  Barb, thanks for your extra set of eyes on this and staying with me.

  Erin, thank you for always checking on me and sending me little notes to let me know you’re thinking of me. You’re the reason I look down at my phone and smile. <<< Had to stick that in here somewhere. ;)

  The Gearheads, I saw all your posts while I was gone and thank you for keeping me going. I had a hard time getting motivated to continue this journey again and this book is for you, girls.

  Kim and Tray, I love you Baby Cakes. Thank you for everything you do for me. Both of you.

  Thank you to all my author friends and bloggers who have stuck by me. You know exactly who you are. Love you, girls!

  I continually thought about one saying through everything this last year. “You can fight or give in.”

  I guess this is me fighting.

  For the Gearheads.

  Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.

  —Gandhi

  Prelude: Deep Braking – Hayden

  Chapter 1: Engine Check – Casten

  Chapter 2: Blown – Hayden

  Chapter 3: Gearhead - Casten

  Chapter 4: Formation Lap - Hayden

  Chapter 5: Wheelstand - Casten

  Chapter 6: High Line - Hayden

  Chapter 7: Burn Out - Hayden

  Chapter 8: Slide Job - Hayden

  Chapter 9: Flying Lap - Hayden

  Chapter 10: Camber - Hayden

  Chapter 11: Methanol - Casten

  Chapter 12: Adhesive - Hayden

  Chapter 13: Livery- Hayden

  Chapter 14: Inverted - Casten

  Chapter 15: Drag - Hayden

  Chapter 16: Speed - Hayden

  Chapter 17: Home Track - Casten

  Chapter 18: Gauge - Hayden

  Chapter 19: Interval - Casten

  Chapter 20: Post Entry - Hayden

  Chapter 21: Glazed Over - Casten

  Chapter 22: Ride Height - Hayden

  Chapter 23: Flag Man - Casten

  Chapter 24: Connector - Hayden

  Chaper 24-1/2: Connector - Casten

  Chapter 25: Chunking - Hayden

  Chapter 26: Gas Can - Casten

  About the Author

  Deep braking – Applying the brakes later than normal when entering the corner.

  Casten’s face went blank searching for the answer he thought I was looking for but you could tell he came up with nothing.

  He opened his mouth again, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at me.

  His lack of words had created an unbearable silence. I couldn’t take it much longer.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Not mad.” There was no anger in his voice and certainly no blame. “Just shocked, I guess.”

  I wanted to look away, afraid if I saw the disappointment he felt I would actually cry over this.

  My throat got tight and I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about it any longer.

  My life, and his, was about to change considerably.

  His breath held for a minute, then he looked up. “I need a beer.”

  When I think about a guy like Casten, I think about two things: Passion for life and love. He loves so many people and unconditionally, too.

  He lives his life the way he chooses.

  And there’s not a thing wrong with that.

  Engine Check – Teams will go through one last engine check before the main events to ensure everything checks out.

  Running always made me wake up. Anyone who knows me understands I hate to get up in the mornings. Always have. But I workout every morning before work because if I don’t, it takes me half the day to wake up.

  As I moved around the gym above our garage, I did two sets of squats and then sat down on a bench to relax for a moment and catch my breath. On the far wall where the ceiling peaked was a series of black and white photographs of our family. Ones from growing up to more recent ones. Those photographs were some of my favorites because as odd as they were, my dad dragging me by my feet as I lay sleepin
g in a sleeping bag to him dumping me in the pool to the ones where Dad is giving away Arie, his only daughter.

  Taking in and appreciating those photographs, I smiled. The kind of smile you felt, where your heart was warm.

  Someone once asked me if I liked my family.

  My first thought was, what kind of question is that, who doesn’t like their family?

  And then my next sobering thought, oh yeah, not everyone had a childhood like mine.

  I loved everything about it.

  Where else would one find a group of highly unstable natural athletes with obsessive disorders, anger issues, and who are borderline alcoholics?

  The Riley family.

  Nothing about any of us was normal. For someone like me, it was heaven.

  It’s why I still lived at home.

  After my workout, I took a shower as hot as I could because, again, I still lived at home and was the only child left there. Didn’t have to worry about pissing off my older sister, Arie, who used to get so angry that I wouldn’t leave any hot water for her.

  Two years ago she got married and now lived about ten miles away on Lake Norman with her husband.

  My older brother, Axel, got married three years and ago and now has two kids and a crazy life. Therefore, he’s not here anymore either.

  Though I had graduated at sixteen, just turned eighteen, I stayed at home.

  Why?

  I loved my family.

  And I was a mama’s boy.

  When I finished with my shower and got my jeans and work shirt on, I jogged down the dark mahogany stairs that led down to the kitchen of my parent’s home. Off the kitchen was an eating nook where we had four cocktail tables that gave the room a bar atmosphere. Around the tables were black leather accent chairs that were quite possibly the most uncomfortable chairs ever designed. Whenever I sat in them I felt like some kind of psychologist getting ready to spew psychobabble bullshit.

  When I closed the door to the fridge after grabbing the milk, I saw Rosa, our housekeeper, sitting on the table closest to the French doors leading out to the patio. She, too, was eating breakfast and watching Dora the Explorer. Rosa thinks she’s Mexican. Actually tells people she is. No one has ever believed her because it’s a known fact the only Spanish words she’s learned have been taught to her by Dora.

  As I poured my cereal, the mess on the counter beside the blender caught my eye. Whenever Rosa made anything, she made a complete fucking mess. It probably would have been cleaner if she would have just used a shotgun.

  Sitting down next to her with a bowl of cereal, I noticed she was back on her smoothie diet.

  “Want some?” Rosa offered up her green drink. Every week Rosa started a diet to lose weight. By Wednesday, she was back to beer, pizza, and burgers. Rosa wasn’t a large woman but as Willie would say, she had about twenty pounds in each breast.

  Dressed in tight spandex pants that she probably shouldn’t wear given her body structure, and a sweatshirt, I gathered Rosa was either going to work out, just did, or maybe, just contemplating it. I tend to think it was more of the contemplating.

  When I didn’t answer, she pushed her drink my way again.

  Dropping the spoon in my bowl of cereal, I gagged holding up my hands and pushing the cup back at her. Anything green, especially spinach, made me want to vomit. Rosa knew that.

  “It’s good,” she said, mid-drink pulling the glass away. Some dribbled down her chin.

  I gagged again and kicked her shin.

  Pressing her lips together, no doubt holding back her laughter and drink. Reaching for her napkin beside her she wiped her chin.

  “Tommy’s in town. Tell that creamsicle fucker I want my panties back.”

  “Gross, no.” My eyes raised in a glare.

  Raising her glass once more she finished off her drink and then slammed her cup down on the table. In the process, a few drops fell into my cereal. I pushed the cereal away crossing my arms over my chest and then panicked slightly.

  “Tommy’s home?” Rosa nodded, entertained seeing me sweat a little. “So that means Mom and Dad are too?”

  My parents had been on the road for two weeks, and would only be home four days before leaving for the west coast.

  “Did he see the mailbox?”

  Rosa bit back laughter. “No. Cole put up a new one last night before they got home. You’d never know it burned to the ground two nights ago.”

  “Nice.” I nodded as she spoke, thankful Cole did something right for once and not just making it harder on me. “I’ll have to thank him for that.”

  “Don’t get to sappy. He’s still a dumbass.”

  She had a point.

  I got up after that and set my bowl in the sink. I was just about to wash it when Rosa took it. “I better clean up. Wouldn’t want boss man to get cranky his first day back.” I could almost hear the annoyance in her voice for my dad and his urge to have our housekeeper actually do something. Not that she ever did.

  As I was heading for the door, Rosa opened a bag of chips in the pantry and dumped them in her mouth. What didn’t make it in her mouth fell to the ground at her bare feet.

  Apparently, this week she fell off the wagon a week early.

  I loved living at home for many reasons. The food. My mom. Rosa and my dad. No rent was cool too but it wasn’t that.

  I can’t even begin to describe how much I loved my bed too. It’s like sleeping on a marshmallow.

  To understand why I loved living at home, it mostly had to do with my mom. I was a mama’s boy. Always have been. She couldn’t, and still can’t, do anything wrong in my eyes because who else would protect me when I filled my brother’s bed with itching powder or glued my sister’s phone to her ear?

  My dad sure as shit wouldn’t, he just said: “You pissed in your bed, you lay in it.”

  Whatever the hell that meant.

  Most of the time, I found a way out of it by either crying or batting my eyelashes at my mom. They were long, thick and provided just enough shadow to hide a pair of sparkly green eyes. I was definitely blessed when it came to being adorable and I knew it. It worked well for when my plans for attacking didn’t roll well. Which happened a lot when I was a kid.

  Was I a bad kid? If you ask me, no.

  If you ask my dad, yes.

  I lied a lot but what kid didn’t? I hit my siblings, I got grounded, earned myself a few spankings when warranted for the larger mishaps when I refused to listen and I don’t know how many times I heard the words, “I told you so,” from both my parents and my grandparents.

  But still, I wouldn’t change any of it.

  My parents were cool. I’d never tell them that. They let us be kids and have normalcy even when we didn’t.

  I think that’s why I was still at home.

  My drive to the shop was about ten minutes. Every day when I get inside, Noah greets me. He’s just like his dad, my Uncle Aiden. Never likes to be late.

  We come in about eight in the morning. Noah gets here at six-thirty just in case his fifteen minute drive from Lake Norman might have traffic.

  “Did you hear there’s a new girl starting today?” Noah asked, watching me plug my phone into the charger on my toolbox since I never remembered to charge it at night.

  This wasn’t the first I’d heard about a new girl starting. And with this group of guys, it wasn’t the last.

  “In the shop?”

  Noah laughed pushing his thick black hair from his blue eyes. “No. Could you imagine?” he tried for a minute, then laughed again.

  I’m not sure what was more entertaining right then, the thought of Noah, my dim witted cousin, trying to think, let alone imagine a woman engine builder.

  I’m not saying it couldn’t be done. It could. Leddy Motorsports had one and she was good too.

  Mostly I couldn’t imagine a woman engine builder here at CST.

  We had a good team here now with me, Charlie and Noah. We pushed out engines weekly, built about two hundred a
year and managed not to kill each other. I for one loved to piss them off and get them yelling at each other – which happened daily. Wasn’t hard to do.

  “Who’s the girl?” I already knew who the girl was but I didn’t say anything to the guys because it wasn’t really a concern to me. Now I just wanted to see if Noah knew.

  I kept my attention on the 410 engine in front of me knowing I needed to get this one rebuilt and get the pistons in so I didn’t have to stay late tonight.

  “Don’t know,” Noah sighed when he heard Charlie, who’d just walked in, dump his coffee on the ground and cursed. Charlie had shaky hands. Dropped everything from tools to hot coffee. “Haven’t heard yet.”

  With the distraction of Charlie arriving, Noah left, leaving me to work for a little while. I really wanted to get this shit done. I had plans with my grandma every Tuesday.

  Since my grandpa died three years ago, I’ve been having dinner with her every Tuesday and I wasn’t about to miss one regardless of this engine in my stall.

  When I was fifteen, my grandpa was taken from us in Knoxville. I wasn’t there that night and I was glad I wasn’t. It seemed hard enough for my brother, Axel, who saw the entire wreck right before his eyes.

  For me, I saw the video later and again, I was glad not have been there. Not only was grandpa killed but also my dad was in the worst wreck of his entire life that day. It was touch and go whether or not he would survive for a few weeks but he pulled through. I honestly think if he wouldn’t have, the loss for us would have been too much.

  I believe, no, I know it would have destroyed my mom. It’d be hard for a kid like me to explain but I knew enough that she couldn’t lose him.

  Our family was forever changed after that day in Knoxville.

  The way we moved on was simple, we just did. It wasn’t like us to dwell on something we couldn’t change, or at least it wasn’t like me. I took to showing my grandma what she needed to live for. I couldn’t help but want to help her when I found her crying one morning when I went to check on her.