Rocky Road Read online

  "I'm on a break."

  "Go, you can't worry about me right now. You need to do your job."

  Stubborn woman. What did I care about a car when she could be sprawled on the floor? "If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I'm going to have to break in there."

  "Go," she said.

  "She's right." Amanda touched my shoulder. "You better get back. You're on in another minute or two."

  "I can't leave her here." Shit. What was I supposed to do? An idea came to me. It was probably stupid, and my father would hate it, but he wasn't here, was he? I held out my helmet to Amanda.

  "What are you doing?" asked Amanda.

  "You love racing, right?" I said. "How would you like to race around the track right now?"

  "I've only done the simulation before." Amanda's words argued, but her sapphire eyes shone like gems.

  "You can do it. You've done it a thousand times. You've raced all your life, right?"

  Amanda dragged her lip into her mouth.

  She looked about as sure as I felt. This could put the dirt over the coffin of my career, but did I have any other choice? It was race or be a good person. I couldn't live with myself if I chose racing. "I know it's a lot to ask…"

  "Are you sure?" Amanda asked.

  "Yeah." No. But I wasn't going to change my mind now. Amanda snatched the helmet from my grasp. She put it on, tucking her hair up inside and, from the outside, she looked almost exactly like me.

  I held her helmeted head between my hands. "Ride like hell, Amanda."

  "Thank you, thank you," Amanda said, grasping my wrists. "This is a huge opportunity for me."

  "Don't blow it." I caught her hand as she was about to leave. "And here are some of those tips I promised you. Don't ease up in the first corner, no matter how much you want to. Be one step ahead of the car. Find your zone and do everything you can to stay here."

  "Got it." She nodded.

  I watched her skip out of the transporter. This was a mistake, my mind blared. What if she got hurt? What if she was great? It was a minefield of potential explosives waiting to blow up my career.

  Except Krysta was on the other side of the door and something was wrong with her. I knocked again. "I'm not going anywhere until you unlock this door."

  Silence.

  "Krysta?"

  More silence.

  I sprinted up the steps to the lockers where I kept my clothes. I rummaged in my bag until I found a credit card, then jumped back to the locked lounge. It took a little finagling, but I managed to open the door. When I did, Krysta was in the opposite corner, facing away from me.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "Don't come near me."

  "Why?"

  "Just don't, okay? You shouldn't have to deal with this shit."

  She sounded angrier than ever, and I'd heard her pretty angry. Her hands rested on her wheels. Her head hung bent.

  I inched closer.

  Silence.

  "I'm not going back out there for a little while. I'm on a break. Now will you please tell me what's going on?"

  She didn't move.

  Then I remembered she had heard. She had been angry with me. Could she really be throwing a fit right in the middle of my work day?

  "C'mon, Krysta." I crossed the distance to her. At first I couldn't see what was wrong. Only once I looked harder did I notice a wet spot on her lap.

  Krysta flicked a gaze at me, tears streaming down her face. "Don't you dare pity me."

  "It's not pity."

  "Just—go so I can die of embarrassment in peace."

  "I'm not going anywhere." I held the edges of her chair, frozen.

  "You will eventually."

  "No, I won't."

  "Come on. You can't honestly tell me you find this sexy."

  "You think a little pee scares me?" I smiled, squatting at her side. This was what I needed to do. "Honey, we sit in a car for four hours at a time. How often have you made it four hours without peeing?"

  Krysta gave a half-sobbing chuckle.

  I squeezed her shoulder. "I bet this isn't even the first time this transporter has been peed in."

  "Stop it," she said through a sob. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

  "It's true. Here. Let me go get you a change of clothes. I have an extra pair in my locker."

  As I walked away, I couldn't help thinking this was my fault. I had left her there, too caught up in the run to consider even her basic needs. And why had she let Tanya go? What had I been thinking agreeing to this at all? Agreeing to both lover and professional? It complicated things. If she was a consultant, she would have been able to take care of herself. But she wasn't only a consultant. She was something else, which made this whole thing sticky as syrup left on the counter.

  I returned and helped her out of her damp slacks and into a pair of my sweatpants.

  Amanda burst into the lounge just as I was putting her wet clothes in a bag.

  "How did it go?" I asked.

  "How did what go?" Krysta said, rolling her chair forward.

  Amanda glanced at Krysta. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded.

  Amanda paced, full of energy. "It was amazing. Exhilarating. The best feeling in the world."

  Earlier, Krysta had asked what it was like and my answer was nothing like Amanda's. I'd said something stupid about a gorilla and made it seem like it was horrible.

  When Amanda talked about it, she practically vibrated out of her skin. She felt the thrill. She had the hunger. It ran in her blood.

  I realized that was what I had been missing lately. Maybe it had never been there at all. Maybe it was the elusive edge everyone talked about.

  Now, I had to figure out how to find it for myself.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BILLIE

  Krysta wouldn't even look at me when we met to switch rooms so Tanya and Krysta could have the big bed. She sat, staring out the window, her shoulders tense, her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes missing all of their beauty and light. For the first time since I'd known her, even all the time since the accident, she looked defeated. None of my jokes worked.

  When I woke the next morning and knocked on their door, it was Tanya who answered.

  "She's not up to the track today," she said. "Yesterday was a lot for her."

  I almost snapped back yeah, because you left, but it wasn't Tanya's fault. Not really. What was she supposed to do? She thought Krysta was all right and so had I. Krysta had done such a good job convincing everyone around her she was just fine, we'd all forgotten she was only weeks out from a traumatic accident and major surgery. So, I didn't push it in Tanya's face. Nor did I push myself into the room. I would give Krysta space.

  Qualification went well enough. I struggled through a bunch of the laps, but managed to qualify near the front of the pack nonetheless because of a number of crashes due to a new braking system. We had some testing runs afterward for the final tweaks before the race the next day. Ed never mentioned Amanda and neither did I, but I was aware of her and the precariousness of my position. It was exhausting. By the end of the day, I was beat.

  When I returned to the hotel, I pulled out the key to my room and slipped it in the lock. I stepped inside only to realize I had entered my old room, not the new one. Krysta's wheelchair was empty, facing the window. She must have been in the bed. I could either walk in and talk to her or leave.

  "Hello?" Tanya said. Her head peeked around the corner. "Oh, it's you. Come on in."

  I looked behind me. Could I still leave? Not without Krysta knowing I had been there, and I couldn't have her thinking I didn't want her now after what happened yesterday. It wasn't true.

  "Is she awake?" I asked.

  "Yeah." Tanya stepped back.

  I turned to slip past her in the narrow hallway.

  "You know what?" Tanya said, flashing her phone. "I'm going to go make a call. I'll just be a few minutes."

  I nodded, trying to smile, and edged pa
st her into the room. Krysta reclined on the bed, her phone casting a blue light over her face. She didn't even look up or greet me.

  "Hello to you, too," I said, dropping my bag.

  She still said nothing. I walked around to the other side of the bed and plunked onto it. Krysta didn't react, like I wasn't even there. My throat clenched tight. I stared at the side of her head. "You know what's wrong with you?"

  "No, but I think you're going to tell me." She scrolled on the screen of her phone, peering down her long nose.

  The rubber band in me snapped. "You've got too much fucking pride."

  "Oh?" she said, evenly.

  This only fed my anger. "Are you even paying attention?"

  "While you insult me? Not really."

  I didn't often get angry, but the exhaustion of my day and Krysta's indifferent tone created a chemical mixture in me that produced anger. I plucked the phone from her hands and tossed it to the end of the bed.

  "Give that back." She reached for her phone, but it rested well beyond the tips of her fingers.

  Look at me, damn it. "So, you peed yourself. Who gives a shit?"

  Krysta's dark eyes flung to me. "Apparently you since you had to go and bring it up again."

  "Ever since it happened you've been unable to look at me."

  "Do you blame me? It's embarrassing."

  "It's not a big deal."

  "It is to me. Everything is a big deal to me. Everything is a big deal. Period. You think because you've had a couple breaks in your life you know what this is like, but you don't. It's fucking miserable."

  I shook my head. "Only because you see it that way."

  "How else am I supposed to see it?" Krysta yelled.

  I shrugged, squeezing my shoulders up near my ears and letting them drop. "I would hope you would see it as worth fighting for. I would hope to see your passion. I know it's there somewhere."

  "You don't even know me." Krysta's eyes swam with tears. "How dare you talk to me about passion? Do you know how hard it is for me to get out of bed in the morning? Do you know how painful that is? I'm just trying to live here, never mind passion. Passion. Fuck, Billie. You don't even know what passion is."

  How dare she after what I'd done for her? After I'd risked my job for her? I swung my legs over the side of the bed. "I'm too tired for this."

  "Great. Leave, then. Go."

  "I'll find Tanya and send her back," I said, stooping to scoop up my bag as I left.

  "Go ahead. Take the easy way out and leave me here."

  I stopped, my heart thudding in my chest. My arms and legs shook, and this time I couldn't blame it on driving. Emotion, more than I'd felt in my life, spilled through me. "You—" I turned around. "You spoiled princess. You have everyone—" I closed my eyes and clamped my mouth shut. "You know what? I'm exhausted and I have a race tomorrow. I don't have time for this, and I can't afford it if I want to win."

  Fuck. I turned away before she could say anything else.

  Only when the door closed did I realize I had left her stranded, without her phone. This was so complicated. More complicated than I could handle with a race the next day. I found Tanya down the hallway at the vending machine. Then I found my bed and spent the night not sleeping and totally alone.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  KRYSTA

  The day of the Phoenix race, I woke to a pounding on the door and Tanya sliding out of bed in her sweats.

  "If it's Billie, tell her I'm in the bathroom or something," I said.

  Tanya pursed her lips. She'd tried to get what had happened out of me the night before, but I couldn't even explain it to myself, never mind her. All I knew was that I didn't want to see Billie Page. Not now.

  The door opened, whispered voices exchanged words, and the door closed a moment later. Tanya reappeared. "Housekeeping."

  My heart sank, but I refused to let it show on my face. It wasn't worth it. Billie and I had barely had any time together. We'd only slept together twice. That did not a relationship make. Certainly not one that sent me into a tizzy like a drama queen. No, I had to pull it together.

  "Are we heading to the raceway today?" Tanya asked, bending to pull her toiletries from her bag.

  "No," I said, folding my arms. "I don't feel up to it with all those people there."

  "Okay, then."

  Tanya didn't pressure me any more. We went through my exercises, which I performed with vigor. Each time I had to kick, I thought of Billie's face. My anger motivated me. Then I bathed and Tanya showered. We ordered room service. I did my job, posting to Twitter and Facebook, like I had a professional relationship with Billie, because that was the only thing I was certain of at that point.

  At five o'clock, Tanya turned on the TV.

  I shot her a glare.

  "What? I want to watch the race," she said, settling in the bed next to me.

  "Right, because you're such a huge racing fan." I returned to the screen of my phone, reading some article about the magical healing power of magnesium.

  "Want some popcorn?"

  "No."

  "I'm going to get some. It's on the room service menu. Can you believe it?"

  "Shocking," I said.

  Tanya elbowed me in the ribs as she picked up the phone. "You don't have to be nasty to me just because you're mad at Billie."

  I took in a long breath to break apart the tension in my chest. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll direct my nastiness solely at her from now on."

  Tanya clucked at me. "You should give her a break. She's just trying to help."

  "And you should mind your own business."

  I did my best to pay attention to what I was reading, but the TV kept drawing my gaze. I found myself searching for Billie's car, or a small person in a white jumpsuit. They featured interviews with a few of the drivers and mentioned Billie's name once or twice, but she didn't make an appearance.

  The race began.

  I didn't pretend I was looking at my phone any longer. I set it to the side and took a handful of popcorn from Tanya. To the best of my ability, I kept my eyes on Billie's car as it went around and around the track. Around and around and around.

  It was pretty boring for the first five minutes until a car clipped the back of another while trying to pass and both of them spun out in the middle of the track. Billie was behind this, but she managed to maneuver around the wreckage and made it through without a problem.

  My heartbeat quickened as I realized how close she'd come. "I don't know if I can watch this."

  Tanya patted my hand. "She'll be all right. She's a smart driver."

  The reality of what I was watching set in. I shouldn't have let her leave last night until we had worked through whatever was going on. Or at least I should have found a way to talk to her this morning. What had I been thinking giving her the silent treatment? She was right. Oh, my God, she was right. I'd let my pride get the best of me.

  An hour into the race, Billie had navigated her car up into the eighth position. Around the next corner, she thrust forward, swerving around a car and in between two more. The commentators called this her signature move, one she had perfected. They said it took guts to do it because you were between two unpredictable objects rather than just one. I felt my heart swelling with pride… and terror. Why had I pushed her away? I wanted to talk to her now, to tell her I hadn't meant anything I had said.

  Ten laps left. Billie was in third place. I kept pushing down the urge to crawl on my knees to the end of the bed. Instead, I pounded the mattress with my fists. "Go, go, go."

  The room around me fell away. I was with Billie in her head. You can do this.

  Three laps left. Billie moved into second position.

  Two laps.

  Halfway around the raceway, a car sped toward Billie.

  "No, no, no," I shouted. I blocked my eyes, then peeked through them, then took them away and wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn't catch my breath. "Behind you, Billie," I whispered.

  "Oh, lo
rd in heaven," Tanya said. She reached out and took my hand and I didn't pull it away. I clutched her for dear life, praying for the first time in a long time.

  I hoped someone was talking to Billie in her ear, was warning her that someone was coming for her so she could make whatever adjustment was needed.

  It happened in less than a second. Billie shot forward, but the other car spun out of control at the top of the corner. It clipped the back of her car, sending her careening into the wall. The car's shell fell to pieces around Billie like unraveling ribbon. A wheel rolled out onto the track. The other car skidded to the inside a moment after Billie's crash, careening into the barriers.

  My breath was gone. Tanya held me. My cheeks were wet with tears.

  "Come on, Billie. Come on. Get out," I said, straining to see over Tanya's arm.

  The camera was focused on the other car and the other driver. Someone was already there, helping him. He was walking. He was fine.

  "Why aren't they showing Billie? Where is she?"

  "She's going to be all right," Tanya said, rubbing my back.

  "Did you see how hard she crashed into that concrete? She can't be all right."

  "Those cars are meant to take the brunt of a crash."

  "Why aren't they showing her?" The commentators spoke in hushed voices about former crashes in IndyCar races. Fatal crashes. Why the fuck were they talking about fatal crashes? I could barely listen to them any longer or I thought I was going to cry or scream or rip my hair out or something. Show her.

  The focus returned to the other car.

  "Did they say anything about Billie yet?" I asked. "Did I miss it?"

  "Not yet," Tanya said.

  Then they turned to Billie. She stepped out of the car, someone in a suit the same as hers supporting her. I let the air out of my lungs in a long breath. She was alive. She was okay, okay enough to walk, anyway. She staggered, tripped. She never tripped.

  The commentators returned to race.

  I didn't care what happened next. I didn't care who won. I never really cared about it all until Billie had walked into my life. Or until I had walked into hers. The fight we'd had last night was stupid. I wasn't going to let anything get in the way any longer.