The Race

by Alice Ward

  “You said that word wasn’t in your vocabulary, Miss James.” I smiled smugly as I sensed Laura’s eyes bulging out next to me. We’d never had a sponsorship that big before, and she was my purse strings.

  Brody was finally smiling. He reached over and dropped a hand on his sister’s knee, squeezing it, and then they hugged in celebration. She smiled broadly at me, thanking me so effusively I thought she might lean over and hug me too.

  But I knew she had no idea what she was in for. I was going to work her, make sure she earned every cent of that sponsorship. I just need to make sure I stuck to ways that wouldn’t get me slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit.

  The UnCaged Fitness Headquarters was built on a large twenty-acre property I’d secured just outside of Daytona, right on the Halifax River, in a town called Holly Hill. For the first few years, we’d been set up in the city proper, but as our business and number of employees grew, we had to search for another home base to join our operations offices on the West Coast and in New York.

  This building was my baby since I’d helped build it from the ground up, in much the way I’d built my business. It was constructed to bring in as much natural light as possible, and it was so energy efficient that it was hailed as a model for other businesses in green and environmentally conscious design. The offices looked like living rooms, there were plenty of spaces to go recharge, a massive on-site gym, and the on-site cafeteria served menu items from UnCaged Online, our lifestyle website featuring all things fitness.

  When we pulled up to the front of the enormous beige stucco building, I explained this to the Jameses. Emma looked less than impressed, as usual. She probably thought I was coming off as a pretty boy again. And yes, I may have liked sweat and sand, but dirt, not so much. I made a mental note to try to get some dirt under my fingernails later, if that would impress her. What the hell was wrong with me? When had I ever wanted to impress any woman?

  When we got them into the conference room and lowered the screen to show the movie, a story about my humble beginnings as a geeky computer programmer fifteen years ago, a “certifiable genius” who’d developed his first fitness app in the garage of his modest home in Holly Hill, then went on to sell it at the age of seventeen for a tidy eight-figure sum. Blah, blah, blah, wasn’t I wonderful? I hated that stupid movie and made a mental note to ask Laura to scrap it as soon as possible.

  I stepped outside, breathing hard, running my hands through my hair as I sat on a nearby couch.

  Laura came out only a second later and saw me vising my head in my hands. “What?” She looked concerned.

  “That movie is shit,” I grumbled. “It needs updating. Especially the part about me. It’s embarrassing.”

  “No, it’s not. There’s no pictures of you in it, Pudge.”

  That’s for damn sure. I’d never let that movie survive otherwise. “No, but it should be more about the company. Not about me.”

  “Whatever.” She sat down next to me, grinning as she looked through her emails on her phone. “Is she not perfect, like I told you?”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s perfect,” I agreed. A perfect way to ruin my concentration completely.

  “But millions of dollars worth? We’re seriously looking at ten million at least. For all the races.” She crossed her arms with a raise of an eyebrow, probably ruing all the changes she’d have to make to the already drafted contracts. We’d talked about a couple million, a few races. We said that maybe we’d up it to five, if the meeting went well and our outlook was especially auspicious.

  But all of them?

  UnCaged was big, but a seven-figure sponsorship wasn’t a drop in the bucket to us. I’d just gone and blown our entire sponsorship budget for the year. Emma James had made me lose my mind completely. And I knew this was just the beginning.

  I nodded and slumped against the wall, hoping this was a decision I was making with my head and not my dick. “Yep. All of them.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emma

  Things went like a whirlwind after that trip to Daytona. From the time I called my dad, telling him the miraculous news two weeks ago, everything had gone so fast.

  When I found myself at the Volunteer Speedway for my last race as an independent, I had to stop myself from breaking down in tears.

  The official announcement of the sponsorship hadn’t been released, so I’d been instructed to keep it a secret, even from my crew. But after my trip to Daytona, the rumors had been swirling, and when the press asked me, I deflected, trying to follow the contract I’d signed to the letter. I was convinced I’d do something stupid and have the whole thing come crashing down.

  And Brody didn’t help. He kept offering sage advice that felt more like a threat, causing my nerves to tighten even more. Things like, “Enjoy it but don’t take it for granted because you’ll only get this one shot. Things like this don’t happen every day, and probably won’t happen again in our lifetime.” He was such the fortune cookie these days, moping around introspectively, but I got it. All the things he wanted for his life were happening to me.

  Jonesy thought it was just nerves. And it was partly that, but not about the race. It was like I couldn’t even breathe. Every time I turned around, we were fielding another call from someone wanting to firm up a detail or ask me my preferences on something. It only went to show me that I had a lot riding on my racing.

  Brody looked my way but didn’t meet my eyes. “Good luck.”

  It was so hard to be happy when he was so terribly sad. “Thanks.”

  But everything about this felt scary and somewhat sad, like an ending rather than a beginning. Our last ride in the rickety camper that broke down at least once a month. Our last cheap, no-frills meal at a truck stop Dairy Queen and overnight stay at a fleabag motel. Truthfully, though I complained about those things, I’d loved every minute of it. From now on, I knew everything would be Locke Cage-style — pretty and top-of-the-line.

  “No comment,” I said to a reporter as I stepped out of the camper. God, they were on me like fleas on a dog, huddling outside, ready to jump on me given a moment’s notice. I’d never had press like this before, so I knew they’d definitely gotten wind of the UnCaged agreement.

  Jay and Dan Sanderson were getting my car, a white Camaro, ready for the race. Helmet stuffed under my arm, I walked toward it, feeling sentimental. It’d be retired from this type of racing after this, so I was mostly checking it out, but they leaned against it, watching me approach as if I was checking them out. “What do those reporters want with you?”

  “They wanted to talk to you, actually,” I told them, petting my Camaro’s hood. “I said you didn’t do that. Told them you just grunt and make animal noises.”

  Jay raked his eyes over me. “Going to come in dead last again?”

  “Depends on how fast you are with the tires,” I said, ignoring them, wondering if it would look too desperate if I kissed my car.

  “I think it depends more on the driver,” Jay said, elbowing his brother. “And women like you are only good for one thing. Why don’t you bring that tight ass over here and sit on my face where you belong?”

  I smiled sweetly and gave him the finger. It was going to be so sweet to fire them after tonight and detail all the reasons they wouldn’t be going with me to Daytona. “Why don’t you sit on this?”

  The other brother crossed his arms. “I don’t know why we’re working here so hard with no reward. You gotta give us something.”

  I wiped imaginary dust off the car’s windshield. “How about if I just win this here race, and then I’ll give you the chance to eat your words?”

  Jay scoffed. “You? Win? Please. Don’t make me laugh.”

  I shrugged. If I did, I’d be the first woman ever to even place on this oval. Didn’t matter if I did or didn’t. I had the means now to hire anyone I wanted for my pit crew. Jonesy, Tom, and Albert were in, but the Sanderson brothers? Don’t let the door hit you in the ass. Still, I wanted to win this race, mostl
y because I wanted to prove to Locke that he’d made a solid investment.

  And I wanted to win it for me.

  I kissed my father and waved to Brody, who’d started coming to some of my races again, even though I saw the pain being there caused him. I wanted to win for him too. I wanted him to be proud, to know his own sacrifice wasn’t being wasted.

  Please let me win.

  But even as I asked the prayer, there wasn’t the desperation behind it that there was before. I had a sense of security, a knowing that I was wanted for me… for me… that seemed to release some of the worry.

  When I slid through the window, buckled in, and wrapped my gloved hands around the steering wheel, I actually felt relaxed, mostly. I took a deep breath, letting all the frustrations go.

  Someone wanted me. Locke Cage. UnCaged. They wanted me, I reminded myself.

  I rarely felt in control anywhere else, but right then, behind the wheel, I felt powerful. I was at home, right here, more than any other place in the world. In the quiet of the cabin, I closed my eyes and let the calm seep in. When I maneuvered to the starting line, I felt good.

  And I knew it like I knew my own name.

  I was going to kick ass.

  Hell yeah… I was going to drive like a girl.

  I did just that. I stayed in the front from the beginning — my signature move — and I never let anyone get ahead of me. It was just a dirt track, but I’d grown up racing on dirt tracks, and I relished the way the tires hugged the ground. Loved the slide. Loved the way the dirt rose around me, casting everything in a dusty brown glow. Loved the way it got in my every pore, and hell, I even liked choking on it. With my body in the seat, tires screaming below me, I had the absolute time of my life.

  When the checkered flag went up, I cried. Screaming and crying and altogether out of my mind with happiness. What a way not only to go out, but to go on to bigger and better things. I did my victory lap to the screams of the crowd, and when I pulled into pit road, I saw the crowds waiting for me. Tons of press. Lots of fans. My crew, Daddy, Brody, and… Locke Cage.

  My jaw dropped. I hadn’t expected him here, and maybe that was why the press was swarming so hard today. They wanted some big news, and maybe Locke was going to give it to them tonight.

  I knew I was dirty. My face was covered in a film of red clay, the tears caking mud to my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I loved being dirty. I slid out of the window and into the arms of fans, friends, people who were all screaming my name. Brody actually kissed me on the forehead, and for once I was so happy I didn’t punch him in return. Daddy hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe. The Sandersons were absent, but I wasn’t looking for them. I made eye contact with Locke, and it was like nothing could break it.

  Like one magnet pulled to another, I drew closer to him in the crowd. He was wearing dark hipster jeans, an untucked white shirt, and was probably the only guy in the place in a blazer. But as squeaky clean as he was, he looked… damn sexy.

  I grinned. “Hey, boss.”

  “Nice race,” he said, looking rather astonished at the chaos surrounding us, and at that moment, it was so obvious. This was his first race.

  He was in over his head.

  “That was just the first part,” I explained over the roar of the crowd. It was so loud, he leaned in to hear me, and I had to yell. But damned if he didn’t smell like some woodsy aftershave that made me want to lick him from collarbone to jaw. “The next part is the Death Match, with hand-to-hand-combat.”

  He raised an eyebrow. He was too smart to buy it, and I laughed as someone thrust a microphone under my nose. “How does it feel to know that you shattered a glass ceiling for women everywhere, Emily?”

  I opened my mouth, stunned, wishing I had something more eloquent to say than, Fucking awesome. And the name is Emma, bitch.

  Locke guided the microphone toward him. “Her name is Emma. Emma James. And you better get it right now because you’re going to see a lot more of her.”

  The woman, like probably all women in the world, was magnetically attracted to him. She practically simpered, looking up at him through her lashes. “So, Mr. Cage, is UnCaged Fitness in some sort of sponsorship arrangement with this woman?”

  He nodded. “We’ll be sponsoring all of Emma James’s races for the foreseeable future, and you can expect to see her in the NASCAR Monster Energy Cup Series very soon.”

  The press went wild with this. One man asked, “And how does your older brother, Brody, feel about this?”

  “I—” I wish I could say that he was as happy as I was, but I knew that was a lie. Sure, we fought, but I’d never been closer to anyone than I’d been to Brody. He went through the motions, but this had to have been killing him. “He’s fine. He supports me through thick and thin. He’s—”

  I searched through the crowd, but he was already gone.

  “Can you give us any details of the sponsorship yet?” someone asked.

  Locke nodded, “We’re proud to sponsor this talented person for the NASCAR Monster Energy Cup Series because what can we say? She drives like a girl.”

  An hour later, after the award ceremony, I was still in a daze. I went back to the camper, cradling my big-ass gold trophy with plans to have it share my pillow that night. After a lukewarm shower, I slid into my jean shorts and favorite halter top, ready to get some dogs at the nearest concession stand.

  When I stepped out, Locke was standing out there, talking to Daddy. They both looked at me like I was a young girl, coming downstairs in a dress for my first prom.

  I barely refrained from looking down to make sure my shorts were zipped. “What?”

  “Well, you better get yourself packed,” my dad said. “Mr. Cage is whisking you away.”

  Whisking? That sounded kind of dirty. Or like I was an egg. “What?”

  “Sorry it’s short notice, but we tried to call,” Locke explained. “We’ve only got the racetrack booked for tomorrow afternoon. We wanted to work on your ad, and if we don’t get it done now, we’ll have to wait another three weeks. So I flew up here to take you over.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I started to walk back to the camper.

  “And you might want to get dressed a little, um, less casual.” he said. “Thought we could stop for dinner.”

  I frowned. I realized “less casual” was code for nicer but it wasn’t like I packed my evening dresses when I went to these things. Then I remembered that my halter top was long on fabric and could double as a dress, albeit a very short one. I unsnapped the jean shorts, slid them over my hips until they fell to the ground, and stepped out of them. “Happy?”

  My father just rolled his eyes, as I hadn’t done anything he hadn’t expected, but Locke was clearly astonished as if I’d just flashed him my naked boobs.

  I flattened the shirt down over my upper thighs and inspected it. “Please, Mr. Cage, don’t look like I violated you. I’m still fully clothed.”

  He blinked. “Yes. Yes, I guess that’ll do.” He ran a hand through that thick mop of untamed, russet-colored hair. “I’ll wait here while you pack.”

  “Won’t take long,” I told him, and it didn’t. I threw all my stuff into my overnight duffel and returned not five minutes later. “Ready?”

  Again, surprised. I didn’t know what kind of women he was used to dealing with, but I bet it normally took him at least three hours to pack for himself. Golden boy probably had to make a list to do it and check it twice. “Yeah.”

  Out of all the cars in the lot, Locke’s was the only limo. Somehow, though dust was on everything and everyone, and was already climbing up my bare legs despite the fact that I’d taken a shower twenty minutes before, his car was spotless. “You don’t have to impress me, boss,” I said as I slid in.

  “Please, don’t call me boss,” he said gently. We sat side by side, but I could feel his gaze heavy on my bare legs.

  “Fine. But what I’m telling you is… the contract’s signed. I’m already yours. And I’m good with McDonald�
�s.”

  He laughed. “I don’t spend millions on someone and then take them out for fast-food. It clogs arteries.”

  “Well, it’s your wallet,” I told him. “Besides, clogged arteries build character.”

  He snickered, then reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pink box wrapped with a white ribbon. “For you.”

  I was a tomboy, for sure, but the little tiny girly part of me loved presents. I smiled as he slid it over to me. “Do I open it now?”

  “By all means.”

  I pulled the ribbon, watching the silk loops unwind completely before taking my time lifting the lid. I peered down into the open space and wrinkled my nose. “Oh. Looky,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “You love it. You know you do. And it will grow on you, I’m sure.”

  I lifted it out of the box. As promised, my very own CageFree. This one was black with checkered flags around the band. I frowned at it. It didn’t seem very free to me, being tethered to a thing that told you when to poop.

  “It’s our deluxe model,” he explained, taking it from me and pressing the buttons on it. He motioned to my wrist, and when I extended it, clipped it on. It didn’t look terrible, but I hated jewelry. It felt heavy on my arm. “I programmed it for you already. You can even play music on it and get your daily news.”

  I looked skeptically at the display with the time. Just what I’ve always wanted.

  “The instruction booklet is in the box,” he said.

  I peered inside. Sure enough, there was a booklet as thick as a dictionary. “Great. So happy,” I mumbled.

  “I know, right? It’s a beauty. You’ll love it.” He lifted the sleeve of his dress shirt to bare a sleek, black one. “I don’t go anywhere without mine.”

  “Well, guess I won’t either.” I shot him another eyeroll. “Since you told me the contract is null and void if I do.”

  He looked genuinely disappointed. “You don’t seem as happy as I’d hoped.”