The Race

by Alice Ward

  “Clearly.”

  She let out a big sigh. “And Victoria looks at me like I’ve sinned against her bible, Vogue. God forbid.” She sighed again. “She wants me to wear dresses. My legs don’t do dresses.”

  I begged to differ. Her legs did a number of things very, very well, and I could just imagine how well they’d do a dress.

  Before I could say another word, she deflated in front of me, tears brimming in her kohl shaded eyes. “What’s wrong with the way I look? Why can’t I just be myself? Isn’t that good enough?”

  My heart squeezed hard in my chest as I watched this confident woman come undone.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Emma,” I told her. “Not by a long shot. But you know that you were happy with the work Adlar did for the ad campaign. Maybe this is a bit too much, but I think Adlar wants to push you out of your comfort zone. Maybe you should give it a chance?”

  She pressed her lips together. I could see the doubt in her eyes.

  I looked around Laura’s office. My sister had a thing for the sun, so it was all a golden yellow, with sun symbols everywhere. I found a package of makeup remover wipes and plucked a few out of the box. Lifting them gently to Emma’s face, I washed the makeup away, revealing those cute freckles. All the while, she watched me, not saying a word, her breathing short and shallow.

  It felt, in a way, almost more intimate than that night at the gym.

  I smiled when I saw the real Emma come through. Natural, beautiful.

  “There you are,” I said, turning her back to the mirror.

  She looked at herself, then tilted her head, and her nose wrinkled. “Well, you could’ve left a little on.”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “You are a hard woman to please.”

  She was still looking at her reflection, and I could tell she wasn’t happy with the woman she saw there. Her eyes trailed to the edge of Laura’s desk, where Adlar had put his tools. Standing from the chair, she reached down and picked up a tube of lipstick, then held it to her lips. In the mirror, her eyes met mine. “I kind of want to put this on. Is that bad?”

  I shook my head. “How could it be?”

  She blinked, and I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m a race car driver. Not a runway model.”

  “Come here.” I put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to me. Then I touched the dark hair falling into her face. “You’re a beautiful woman, Emma, no matter what you do. And if you want to put that on, then that’s the right decision. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  She contemplated the lipstick in her hand for a moment. “It’s not?”

  I nodded. “Life isn’t just either-or, Emma. You can be a race car driver and wear lipstick. It doesn’t change a damn thing.”

  The tip of her nose turned pink. “It doesn’t?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes searched mine, and they lit from within. She turned to the mirror and swept the pink gloss over her lips. Pressing her lips together, she took a deep breath. “Okay?”

  “Gorgeous,” I said, wondering what other sides of her I had yet to see. What hidden sides of myself she would be able to unravel in return. Already, she’d proven to me one surprising thing about myself: Maybe I did want to spend more than one night with a woman. Laugh with a woman. Maybe someday even trust a woman.

  I wasn’t sure if my past would allow me that freedom, but one thing I did know… I still hadn’t gotten my fill of Emma James yet.

  And I wasn’t sure I ever would.

  Still, it was wrong. I was her sponsor. She wasn’t here as my personal plaything. And as she’d proven to me just now, she was a real human being. Whatever emotions I had for her, I needed to put them to bed, right now.

  “Do you think Adlar would come back in, maybe fix me back up but with less…” she chewed on her lip and eyed all the pots and brushes in front of her, “stuff?”

  I smiled. “I’m sure he will.”

  And he did.

  I watched as Emma’s beauty was magnified and softened in a way that was totally her but more refined. “I’m sorry, Emma,” Adlar said. “I was only hoping to experiment. To show you all the ways we could play with your beauty.”

  I blew out a relieved breath when she took his hand in hers. “Maybe another day when I don’t have to stand in front of so many people?”

  Adlar lifted her hand to his lips. “Of course.”

  She looked happy and relaxed when she faced me again. “I think I’m ready.”

  She pulled off the apron. She was wearing a red, flowered dress, very demure and feminine. It hugged her body so nicely that if I hadn’t just resolved to man up and move beyond this, I would’ve had a hard time not reaching out and pulling her to me.

  Fuck that. I wanted to pull her to me anyway, to lift that dress up and sink inside her tight body. I couldn’t tear my eyes off it, the way the v-neck pointed the way to her cleavage, like I needed the help. “I like that dress.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and sucked her bottom lip in. “Yeah? You know, it’s not terrible. It’s comfortable. I don’t usually do—”

  “Yeah. But you can pull them off.”

  She looked down at herself in wonder. “You think?”

  I definitely thought. But if my eyes were hands, I already would’ve gotten myself into major trouble. I tore my gaze from her and nodded. “Yeah.” I swallowed. “You know, about that night in the gym…”

  She waved it away. “It’s no big deal. I’ve forgotten it.”

  She’d… forgotten it? Not exactly the reaction I was looking for. I’d hoped she thought it was an unforgettable, world-rocking experience. But what was I expecting? She raced cars for a living. She had ice water flowing through her veins, as her brother had said, and if racing fast cars hadn’t rocked her, did I really think I could?

  I recalled her trembling at all the right times, fragile, and I thought she’d been under my spell, but maybe that was an act. I only wished I had that kind of control. “You did?”

  She nodded lightly, and as I searched her face and those glossy pink lips, I couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to taste the shiny gloss of them. In fact, hidden in the reaches of my pants, my cock urged me to. It wanted to get things moving in the definite direction where it could be of use.

  I left the room before it could get me in any more trouble.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Emma

  Brody said I had ice water in my veins for situations most people would find stressful. It was true. While my blood boiled during other occasions, I was calm and collected when surrounded by a ton of steel that moved fast as a rocket.

  But that sense of composure obviously didn’t extend to press conferences.

  I sat behind the long table on a podium, with Locke and a bunch of other marketing bigwigs flanking me as cameras flashed and pointed at me, glaring into my eyes. There was a pitcher of water on the table, but I’d already downed half of it, and all that glossy lipstick was now on the glass. I laced my hands in front of me to keep them from trembling as the rest of the reporters filtered in, getting to their seats. It was a full house. All of the two hundred or so chairs in front of us were occupied.

  Breathe, I told myself. If I couldn’t handle a room full of reporters now, how would I handle my first race?

  “Hey,” Locke said to me, barely a breath in volume. Under the table, he squeezed my bare knee, his hand lingering there for three pounding heartbeats before retreating. It wasn’t a sexual thing, more of a supportive thing, but even as nervous as I was, I thought of the way his mouth had raked its way up my thighs and shivered. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” I said, shrugging off those thoughts and forcing bravado. I lifted my chin another quarter inch. “I always am.”

  “Just checking.” He glanced at the near-empty pitcher of water. I didn’t think he bought it.

  Laura came up, her eyes glowing with excitement. “Wow, this is an even better response
than we had for the Run Like a Girl campaign.” She started to jiggle the microphone in front of us. “Want to test the microphones? I think I got them, but—”

  His eyes gave them a cursory sweep-over. “They’re fine.”

  “And remember what we talked about, with the sc—”

  “Got it,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Go promote something. Preferably in another state.”

  I had to smile as she gave him a bratty little sister smirk, batting her eyelashes, and whirled on her three-inch heel, leaving with her middle finger discretely pointing in her brother’s direction.

  “You guys are close,” I observed.

  He reached over and took the first sip from his water glass. “Yep. She’s my best friend. Pain in the ass though she can be.” He set the glass down and leaned into me so that I could smell the mint on his breath, and his musky sweet patchouli-scented cologne. “You and Brody?”

  “We have off and on moments. Moments when we get along, moments when we want to rip each other’s heads off. Mostly the latter.” I shrugged. “But he’s a good guy. I have no doubt he’d take a bullet for me. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

  “And you?”

  I shrugged. “I’d like to think I would, but I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to take a bullet for anyone.”

  His eyes swept over my face. “That’s an honest answer.”

  I met his gaze. “Well, I’m big on honesty.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. If you don’t have honesty, what do you have? That’s why I won’t sell out to the Victorias or Adlars of the world.”

  “But it’s different if you like it, Miss James,” he said. “You have to be honest with yourself first. You’re not selling out if you answer to yourself before anyone else. And it’s no crime to explore.”

  His hand moved to my knee for another squeeze as he adjusted the microphone in front of him. With the tablecloth on the table, there was no way anyone could see it, and I liked the feel of it. But everything else about this? Sucked. It was hot as hell, and my throat was scratchy. My face felt like it was dripping sweat and makeup everywhere. The bright yellow lights were probably working to paint me in the most unflattering likeness too. Everyone in the audience looked bored or indifferent. No one really looked happy to see me. There wasn’t a single smiling face I could focus on. I missed my mom and dad.

  Locke was wearing a suit, and they had me in a softly feminine flowered dress. Victoria and Adlar had come up with some ridiculous mock-ups of what I was supposed to look like. I’d gone into a meeting only to be face-to-face with life-sized cardboard cutouts of me, made to look like a runway model. For some reason, they wanted me to be this pretty little desert bloom, feminine and girly off the track, a tough, nimble fox on. They said it would help me appeal to both the UnCaged female and male demographics. They had me wearing lots of flowery shit, all in pinks and oranges and colors that evoked an Arizona sunset. Jewelry, too, mostly turquoise and silver. When I first put it all on, I’d told Victoria that, “I look like G.I. Jane meets Barbie.”

  But truthfully, I kind of liked it. I’d never had much reason to get pretty. Guys back home hadn’t really appreciated me for my looks. They either wanted in my pants or liked the fact that I could change a spark plug and a tire in ten seconds flat. And no, I didn’t like getting makeup caked on and wearing false eyelashes… but I liked looking feminine.

  I liked the way that Locke looked at me when I was dressed like that. No one had ever looked at me like that, with obvious desire, with urgent need.

  And I definitely liked the way his hand felt on my bare knee.

  So I hadn’t complained about the dress. Well, not too much at least.

  But it wasn’t really me. Or maybe, like Locke said, it was just a new me, one I hadn’t explored yet. I couldn’t tell. I had to wonder if they’d have wanted the jean-short and flip-flop me, or if that wasn’t good enough. Locke had made it seem that they wanted me, any way they could get me.

  Or at least, he wanted me. Which turned out to be good enough for me.

  In short, he was the only reason I hadn’t thrown down and stomped out of this place.

  He got me.

  Of everyone here, who’d have thought that the pretty-boy ego with the stick up his butt would’ve been my best confidant and friend?

  “You ready?” Locke said to me, tilting the microphone toward his mouth and tapping it a couple times to make sure it was working. His brow wasn’t an oil slick like mine, and his hand on my knee was completely dry. It was clear he’d done this a hundred times.

  I nodded. Start your engines.

  “Then let’s get this show on the road,” he said, taking his hand from my knee and rubbing his palms together. “Welcome, everyone, to the headquarters of UnCaged Fitness here in gorgeous Daytona Beach, Florida. For the past seven years, UnCaged Fitness has been devoted to bringing fitness to people from all walks of life. Devised by me and my sister, partner, and Chief Operating Officer, Laura Cage, UnCaged has grown from a small, garage-run business not fifteen miles away from this spot, to a billion-dollar company with worldwide reach. Our products are sold in over sixty-three countries, and UnCaged is the most recognized fitness brand in the world today.”

  I listened, feeling my palms slicken as he described his company. It was obviously his passion. I’d always known that. But hearing him talk about starting it in a garage only ten years ago, I started to think about Locke as a boy. I’d come to know Locke’s tongue intimately, but I didn’t really know him. What had he been like?

  And why did it matter? I needed to stay away from him so that I didn’t get any more entangled with him than I already was. Obviously, he agreed, because he’d kept his distance too. But that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about that night, to an unhealthy degree.

  “But enough about us,” he said, smiling cordially at the reporters. “Today, you’re here for a very important announcement.”

  He raised a hand toward me and cameras started to flash.

  He looked down at the index cards in front of him. “Once in a very long while do you get to meet a very special athlete that defies expectations, smashes boundaries, and elevates a sport.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Whoa. Was he talking about me?

  Of course, he’s talking about you, dummy.

  “Emma James is a name that few in the racing circuit have heard of, but just you wait.” I started to blush as he began to heap praise on me. He skillfully wove his way around my disastrous performance in Iowa and played up my placing in Kansas, making me sound like I was Dale Earnhardt incarnate. “And the funny thing about it is, she almost didn’t get her chance. She was on the pit crew for her brother, driver Brody James, when he sustained a career-ending injury. Since then, she’s been racing in his place, even having him serve as her pit crew chief. Her boundless love for her brother is what motivates her to race every day.”

  I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously as my eyes shifted to the doorway. Brody was standing there. He’d just gotten fitted for his bionic arm last week and was going to start therapy to learn how to use it this week. You’d think that would make him happy. But no, he just stood there, leaning against the door with his hat low over his eyes so I couldn’t see them. All I could see was his deeply etched frown.

  I looked away.

  “For a long time, since UnCaged has been headquartered in what is known as the birthplace of NASCAR, we’ve been wanting to bring on a special athlete who embodies the brand name.”

  Athlete? So did he finally think race car drivers were athletes or was that just him talking a good game for the reporters?

  “Today, we’re announcing that we have partnered with this very talented person in our newest initiative to empower women and break boundaries with our UnCaged products. Presenting the new face of our Drive Like a Girl campaign, Emma James.”

  Polite applause. More flashes going off. I blinked during each one, a plastic smile on my face. After t
he applause died down, he opened the floor to questions.

  The first question came from a woman in the front row. She was the sole woman in the room and one of the only people smiling. She identified herself as Luanna Raines from Empowering Women Quarterly. “Congratulations, Miss James. This must be so exciting for you, and I as a woman, am proud as heck to see women getting their due as professional race car drivers.” I relaxed substantially. She was a friend. “I was looking at the press kit, and your next race is only weeks away. The Daytona qualifier too. Go big or go home, huh? How are you feeling? Nervous?”

  I leaned into the microphone. “No, ma’am. I’m more nervous being up here in front of all you folks than I ever get behind the wheel.”

  A bit of laughter rose up across the room.

  “And you feel like you’re ready?” she followed up.

  I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure. I’d stuck to the regimen Locke had given me, and Rinaldo, my new trainer, had added in even more. It wasn’t as exhausting as it used to be, which meant I was getting stronger. I could see it on my physique — in only two weeks, my body was already changing, growing tighter. And yes, I’d managed to get up to four hundred on the simulator. But I wouldn’t be sure if I was ready for a five hundred until I was out there on race day. If I even managed to qualify for the Daytona 500. “Yes, ma’am.”

  A larger man with a beard raised his hand. “Has your time in the gym been more intense since you’ve partnered with UnCaged?”

  I’d say. Yes, the workouts were hard for sure, but nothing could match the intensity of what happened that night with Locke. I forced away the image of his hands molding to my naked breasts, working the nipples into stiff points.

  “Yes, it’s been intense,” I said, sneaking a glance at Locke. “Different.”

  He must have been thinking the same thing I was thinking because the second I said that, his hand was on my knee again. Goose bumps sprang out on my body, and I instantly became aroused.

  I felt a heat in my chest and knew I was flushing there as someone asked, “Miss James, your brother sustained a terrible injury in his final race. Aren’t you the least bit worried that will happen to you?”