“Kill the attitude. I’m not in the mood for your crap today.” Lockland limped around the car, inspecting the tires, stress lines wrinkling his forehead. “Have you talked to your girl yet?”
“What does that have to do with me going for a spin around the track?”
“You’re kidding, right? You’ve been off this week, and you know it. You clipped a visitor tour bus on Monday afternoon, and yesterday you drove over my foot.”
Emilio dropped his gaze to the ground, so Lockland couldn’t see the guilt in his eyes. He’d apologized and bought his pit-crew boss dinner to make amends, but he still felt horrible for hurting the grandfather of six. “It was an honest mistake,” he mumbled, for lack of anything better to say. “It could happen to anybody.”
“Get your head in the game,” Lockland said, leveling a finger at him. “Focus.”
Emilio nodded and tugged on his leather gloves. “I know what I’m doing. I got this.”
“You better, or you’ll end up in a body cast!”
The other guys in his pit crew snickered.
Hearing whistles and cheers, Emilio glanced over his shoulder. Hundreds of people were standing against the metal fence, waving signs bearing his name and image. If he weren’t in such a funk, he would have signed autographs for the children. He’d tossed and turned all night, reliving his argument with Sharleen, unable to put his sister’s accusations out of his mind.
“I don’t have all day. Get in and get going.” Lockland clapped him hard on the shoulder and steered him over to the track. “Three laps should suffice.”
Emilio put on his helmet and slid inside his custom-made Ferrari. He was going to miss using it for practice, but now that he had a new and improved race car he didn’t need it anymore. Thankfully, Antwan had found a buyer, and Emilio could pay off his tax bill and put the whole ugly incident with the IRS behind him.
“Take it nice and easy. The media hounds are out here again today, looking for a story, so don’t do anything crazy,” he warned, his gaze darting around the field. “Come back in one piece.”
Lockland tapped the hood of the car, signaling the track was clear, and Emilio took off down the strip like a rocket. He switched gears, and as his speed climbed...ninety...one hundred...one hundred and twenty...his excitement grew. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, gave him a mind-blowing rush. He loved being behind the wheel of his race car, loved how invincible he felt whipping around the track at two hundred miles an hour. There was nothing quite like it, no greater high—
You mean, besides making love to Sharleen, right? You lose control every time she clamps her legs around your waist.
Distracted by the erotic image that popped into his mind, he lost control of the car. It jerked violently to the left and spun out onto the grass. He maneuvered it back onto the track and slowly increased his speed. He knew Lockland was going to give him hell for daydreaming, but he struggled to focus, to keep his head in the game. Every day, nonstop, he thought about Sharleen and nothing else.
That morning, while he was washing his motorcycle, Antwan had stormed into his garage. Their argument played in Emilio’s mind as he completed his second lap around the track.
“Why did you give Sharleen a ten-thousand-dollar bonus?” Emilio had asked, crossing his arms.
“Because you’re a handful, and I didn’t want her to quit!”
He’d been annoyed, pissed off by his manager’s joke, but it was what Antwan had said seconds later that made his blood boil.
“Sharleen’s going on tour with Rashad J,” he’d said. “She leaves for LA tonight at six o’clock.”
“What? That’s insane! She just started working with him last week.”
“I know, but he’s been acting a fool for months, and label execs at Urban Beats Records need someone tough like Sharleen to keep him in line during his eighteen-city tour...”
Emilio gripped the steering wheel, imagined it was Rashad J’s neck. Taking a deep breath didn’t stop his mind from racing out of control. Was he overthinking things? Assuming the worst because ex-friends, lovers and relatives had betrayed his trust and used him to gain wealth and popularity? Emilio wasn’t taking any chances. Not where Sharleen was concerned. He’d made a mistake walking out on her on Monday and had to apologize immediately. Punching the gas pedal with his foot, he felt the car zoom around the corner and fly down the track. One more lap, then I’m out of here! He had to see Sharleen before she left town. It was stressful, nerve-racking to think she was off somewhere with Rashad J.