He guessed his feelings for Lexie were scary in their own way, but in a good way, like anticipating a wild race while he was running the pace laps. He might crash out, but there was a chance he might win the whole thing.
Thankfully, no more scary fans stopped by, and he concentrated on meeting his fans, taking pictures and seeing the wide variety of items they brought for him to autograph.
He was signing a collectible car when a chorus of murmurs rolled through the crowd. He heard a few gasps and a woman who asked in awe, “Is it really him?”
There were only a few drivers and people in the garage who warranted that kind of reaction, but he had no idea what any of them would be doing at his sponsor event.
The crowd in front of him parted, and his father stepped through the opening.
Wearing a light-blue polo, navy slacks, a dentist’s dream of a smile and rock-star sunglasses, he still looked every inch the Super Bowl-winning quarterback. While many of his former teammates had taken to indulging in lush meals, spending weekends lounging at the beach house and occasionally playing golf, Anton Jackson still worked out five days a week and adhered to a strict low-fat, low-carb diet.
Kane felt a simultaneous pang of jealousy and burst of pride. Surely some of those superior genes had been passed on to him.
Since most everyone in the crowd was holding replica cars, hats or T-shirts with Kane’s name and/or picture on them, the fans seemed stunned that a bigger fish had just flopped into their little pond.
“Quite a crowd, son,” he said when he reached Kane.
Not sure of the motivation or purpose behind this surprise appearance, Kane rose slowly to his feet. “Yes, sir.”
“Get Mr. Jackson a chair,” he heard the woman who’d saved him earlier say from behind him.
James strode up and shook his father’s hand. Notebooks, programs and scraps of paper were thrust at the legend as he moved around the table. People all over the tent craned their necks to stare at the commotion.
Kane stood in the middle with his heart pounding. Did anyone even realize he was still there?
He traveled back to the days when he was a kid, when women gave him fake smiles and men patted him on the head, all in an effort to get to the bigger, better man beside him.
I’m tired of being second best in your life, Lexie had said to him years ago when they broke up.
Her words were applicable to his relationship with his father. And they felt especially right at the moment.
He clenched his hands into fists and felt like an idiot for falling back into childhood insecurities and resentments he thought he’d buried long ago.
“I think you’d better scoot over,” his father said to him with a grin.
“Sure,” Kane said and moved his chair down the table to make room.
They signed side by side for a while before James announced that Kane had another commitment and needed to wrap things up.
Now that he really was exhausted, he was beyond grateful for his buddy’s quick thinking, especially since he was pretty sure the only commitment he had was with a two-inch sirloin cooked on his motor coach grill while they watched that night’s race on TV.
Amid waves and cheers, Kane, his dad and James jumped into Kane’s golf cart and headed toward the drivers’ compound. He’d planned on a relaxing dinner just hanging out with James, not entertaining his dad, and the closer he got to his rolling home-away-from-home, the more tense he became.
His dad didn’t come to an event without a purpose—even if autographs and adulation were promised. After all, he got that everywhere he went, anyway. Kane had no idea when the true intentions would come out, but it had to be soon. His dad didn’t like wasting time. And Kane sincerely doubted he’d put in an appearance just to demonstrate his support.
But, to be fair, he also didn’t purposely intend to overshadow his son. He hadn’t come to the hospitality tent to be the star. He just always was. The spotlight was as intimate a part of him as his skin.
When they stepped inside, Kane looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. Sometimes his fortune washed over him, taking him back to his first year on the Cup circuit five years ago, when he’d walked into his brand-new motor coach as a rookie, amazed at the level he’d risen to, awed by the influence he now possessed. He’d wanted a place to relax and hang out with his friends and teammates. Nothing too garish or overly commercial. No sponsor logos on the floor mats or oil-can-shaped faucets. He loved the beach—the Hollisters owned a house in Kauai they offered to him on the rare break from the track—and he didn’t want lots of stripes or flowers. He’d given these directions to the decorator, and she’d created an amazing retreat.
She’d decked out the furniture in neutral colors with a slight Asian influence—bamboo shades and place mats and simple, black-framed prints of his racing wins. His bedroom sported several shades of blue and reminded him of the ocean, plus it was a nice contrast to the red and yellow uniforms he wore all the time.
“How about a beer?” his dad asked, dropping onto the sofa.
“Sure,” Kane said as he headed to the fridge. He could use one himself.
James got his own beer, then slid outside to fire up the grill. Kane carried his bottle and one for his dad over to the sofa. “What’s up?”
His dad smiled. “Up?”
“With this surprise visit.” He settled onto the other end of the sofa. “Is anything wrong?”
“Can’t I show support for my son?”
“Sure.” You just don’t do it that often.
“I wanted to cheer you on. It’s a big weekend.”
“Yeah, it is.” And the Cowboys have Sunday off, so he doesn’t have a broadcast to do. “You’re staying for the race?”
He nodded and sipped his beer. “I even convinced your mother to come up tomorrow afternoon.”
Kane raised his eyebrows and hoped his dad had the sense to find her a luxury suite to relax in. The temperature was supposed to be in the high eighties at race time. His mom was a delicate Southern lady who considered sweating only half a step above mud wrestling.
“You know she doesn’t like the noise and crowds, but she realizes how important this race is to you.”
“Mmm.”
“Why are you staring at me like I’ve grown two heads? I had the weekend off and decided to spend it with my son. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and I wanted you to realize I’m behind you. I surprised you because I had a previous commitment that I’ve been trying to get out of for weeks. I didn’t want to tell you I would come, then disappoint you. Would you rather I leave?”
Embarrassed by his suspicion, Kane shook his head. His dad had never been enthusiastic about his driving, but he’d followed his career closely and always assured him he had other options if racing ever lost its allure. Kane had usually taken that as criticism, but many drivers only knew racing. If their career bit the dust, they had nothing else. Thanks to his dad’s talent and sacrifices, Kane had enjoyed a privileged childhood and the freedom to pursue whatever dreams he chose.
Even a few weeks ago when his dad had questioned whether the team could get in the top ten, he’d offered to find Kane a better team. Instead of being critical, maybe he’d been trying to help, to let him know he deserved the best.
Kane stared at the floor. “Sorry, Dad, I’m just on edge.”
His dad patted his leg. “Easy to understand. Everything’s on the line tomorrow night.”
Knowing he was one of the few people who could relate to the pressure, Kane nodded. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”
The door swung open, and James walked inside. He took in the scene quickly. “How much male bonding do we actually have to do? I’m starving.”
As they laughed, the tension fled. James always had that effect on people. He knew how to read a room of sponsors, drivers or mechanics. He also knew how to read a woman and a balance sheet. He was the only person Kane trusted unconditionally.
The three of them had a great time watching the NASCAR Busch Series race and sharing old football stories during commercials. The night reminded Kane how great a storyteller his dad was. He wasn’t a has-been-wishing-for-the-good-ol’-days guy. He talked about the past with a been-there-done-that nonchalance and humility that never failed to impress his audience.
Including his son.
After football, they even discussed tomorrow’s race when his dad asked him about strategy and goals. He wanted to understand the track and the importance of breaks, why the turns were so difficult and the allure of night racing.
It was the longest Kane could ever remember talking to his dad about racing in one sitting. And without judgments or skepticism about the operation or his decisions.
Even after his dad left for his hotel, Kane and James talked about his sudden interest in their sport.
“Man, that was just plain weird,” James said as he closed the door behind Kane’s dad.
“You’re not kidding.”
“The Cowboys are off this weekend?”
“Yep.”
“There’s no doubt the man can read a defensive line and pick out penalties for the TV audience, but interest in tire compounds and brake rotors? What’s up with that?”
“I have no idea.”
James turned his head briefly toward the TV, where a reporter was interviewing the race winner, then he sat on the sofa. “You think he’s finally coming around?”