Pedal to the Metal

Chapter 4

Jude

My arms were heavy and the muscles in my biceps were burning. I crossed the finish line first tonight and the smell of my tires burning rubber was like heroin in my blood. I was high on the win and the rush of adrenaline. I was 35 years old, but I felt like I was fresh out of highschool with the endorphins I was feeling.

As the cameras flashed and the champagne sprayed, my mind felt clouded though.

Don't get me wrong, I was the happiest I had been in a while holding that trophy, but every time the camera flashed, I couldn't help but look for a certain green eyed, pint sized spit fire. I hadn't meant to cause her to choke earlier. I hadn't even meant to say what I had said. My intrusive thoughts were meant to stay that, my thoughts. But I'm a man, and I have absolutely no filter. Especially when a woman is as beautiful as her. It was like an instant connection forming that was tangible, visible even.

The air around us crackled. I knew she felt it too though she didn't disclose. Though the moment was inappropriate, I felt the curve of her ass against me, the smell of her hair - which smelled almost like a Christmas cookie- the sound of her voice, her quick wit, and her feisty temper. Everything is called to me. I wanted to know her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to see her, taste her, feel her. Hell, I wanted to just be around her.

My eyes searched for her everywhere I went after she ran off. When I saw her in the pits, I damn near wanted to jump from my car and ravish her. The way she looked behind the camera, the way her tongue stuck out when she was focusing on an image, and the way her forehead creased between her brows as she concentrated. The flexibility of her body when she had to work hard to get the right shot. It made my mouth water. She was like a shiny new toy and I had to have her. I needed her. I craved her and I spent maybe an hour in her presence. It was irrational, but I couldn't help it.

My eyes searched for her behind every camera in the winner's circle. Every time I thought I caught a glimpse of her, I'd blink and she'd be gone.

My crew chief and my pit crew were relishing in the win, the points we received that upheld my number one position for the season. I was getting clapped on the back, congratulated at every turn but my skin was itching. I was dying to get out of there.

My eyes glimpsed on Dawson. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was propped up against a wall watching the ‘show’. He looked pissed and he had every right to be. He was leading for most of the race, but he made a mistake. A fatal and rookie error. He left the inside open and wasn't aware of his surroundings. I took the chance before the window closed on me and he realized his error.

“Great win tonight, Jude. Go enjoy yourself.” Carter, my crew chief said and I nodded and started to walk away.

“Hey, Jude!” Jeremy said, walking up to me with two women in his arms. One was a redhead and had legs for days. The other had mocha colored skin and lips that would make any man's c**k jump. Not mine. Though usually, I would jump on the opportunity, My body was screaming no even before Jeremy asked to join them for an after party.

“Congratulations on your win, Mr Reynolds.” one of the women said while rubbing my arm. She looked at me expectantly almost as if she'd wanted me to throw my arm around her and claim her as mine for the night. It wouldn't be the first time I took a track w***e home, but tonight I had a craving for something else. More like someone else.

Jeremy eyed me suspiciously. He had brought it up several times over the past few weeks that I wasn't partying as much, I wasn't f*****g as much, and I was acting off. I knew he would try again tonight, but it was futile. Three, two, one...

“Hey man, we’re heading to the party at the condo. You in?” I shook my head and the redhead poked her lip out in a pout. Seriously?

“Nah, man. You enjoy. I have something I have to do.'' Jeremy's eyes bugged out, but he didn't say anything. He and I were known to share women. Hell, we even partook in fun with each other from time to time, but this behavior was off for me and he knew it. He knew not to question me though. I was the one who signed his paychecks despite us being best friends.

He shrugged and pulled the girls closer. “More for me then.” he said with a smirk.

He knew I would have been pulling back from parties and the wild lifestyle soon after what happened last season but he wasn't expecting it this soon. I had never been ready to settle down but this past year, I can't help but wonder if something is missing. That maybe Mr Bennett was right. That I was getting too old to play these juvenile games. That life had more to offer, that I had more to offer than drugs, alcohol, and a decent p***y on a Sunday night after a race.

I jogged through pit row, through the trailers. Searched crowds and even peeked into every women's restroom. Don't judge me. I couldn't find her. It was like she vanished. The mystery woman who almost died from a hot dog, who stole my every thought today on the track, escaped my clutches tonight. Every turn I made, every pass I wondered if she was catching that on camera. If she had gotten the shot, she wanted or needed.

My phone started vibrating, tearing my thoughts away from the pixie-like runaway and I saw my mom's name pop up on the screen.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Congratulations, baby. I'm so proud of you.” she said, and I smiled. I may be a full grown man, but when my momma says she's proud of me, I will always revert to that little boy who craves their mother's love.

“You know he would be too.”

My body stiffens at the mention of my dad. I don't like talking about him. Not after what happened. I missed him more than anything in the f*****g world, but he was gone. He was gone, and it was my fault.

I had just graduated highschool and he was picking me up from a graduation party. I had been drinking. He had always made me promise to call him anytime I was too drunk to drive. He promised never to be mad at me, promised never to bring it up again and never to hold it over my head. He was my idol, my best friend. I loved my dad. So naturally, the night of the party, I called him.

He came. It was raining its ass off that night and I was so belligerent that my dad couldn't focus on the road. It wasn't long after he got me that his truck was wrapped around a tree. An accident that wouldn't have happened if he never came and got me. If it wasn't for me, he would still be alive. I know my mom says she harbors no blame for me, but I blame myself and that's just as bad.

I walked away from that night with nothing but a cut on my face that cut into my eyebrow and down my cheek. I catch my mom staring at it from time to time and I know she's remembering everything. I was a constant reminder of the love she lost. She regressed. She lost her soul mate and was cursed to look at their son who looked just like the man she loved and lost.

“Ma,” I warned and I heard her sigh.

We had lost touch after I left to go to MIT. We went from talking every day to once a week. The calls slowly dwindled to once a month and then only on holidays. It wasn't until I went home for Christmas and saw how much weight she had lost, how her body looked like it had been to hell and back. She explained that she hadn't just lost my dad, she lost me too. I had never hated myself more than I did that night. I had promised then and there to be better and never shut her out again on the condition we didn't bring up my dad. I know that it hurts her, but it hurts me too. I'm just…not ready.

“I know. I'm sorry, baby.” her voice was soft and filled with sorrow, but then I heard her giggle.

“What's so funny?” I asked her and I heard a rustling before my phone vibrated again. There was a text from her with a picture from ESPN. A picture of me giving my mystery girl the Heimlich.

“You just look like a big behemoth next to her. I bet there's a story to go along with it?” she probed.

“Yeah. quite a story.” I mumbled looking at the picture, it was clearly shot from a distance, but it was fast to appear in the media. I wonder if the little lady has seen her compromising position yet.

“You can tell me all about it tomorrow at breakfast. No excuses, son.”