She continued on, only stopping when she wrapped her hand around the door latch. “The car should be ready to go in a few minutes. See if you can get her back on the track as soon as possible.”
“Will do, boss. I was wondering… would you like to get a burger with me tonight?”
“You go ahead without me, Dell. I've got a lot to do tonight.” She opened the door, but stopped and turned half-around. “I'm sorry. Race weekends are busy for me. Maybe next week?” she asked.
Dell nodded. “Next week then.”
He made a few more practice runs before calling it a day. He had a few hours to himself, a few hours too many. He caught a ride to the hotel and cleaned up before heading out to one of the local bars. With only qualifying tomorrow, and the race on Sunday, one beer wouldn't hurt.
The place was packed with race fans and Dell kept his baseball cap on, pulled low over his brow. He found a table in the corner and settled in. A waitress took his order and he put his feet up on the extra chair, leaning back with the bill of his cap pulled over his eyes. Conversation was lively all around him. Two couples occupied the table to his left; their conversation divided along gender lines. Dell tuned out the female talk about the best diapers and zeroed in on the men's conversation. He listened as they speculated on whether Everhart would finally win a race this season or go down as the driver with the longest losing streak in Cup history. Dell mentally cast his vote for the history books, but remained silent.
His meal arrived and he took his time, savoring the excellent burger. The table on his right emptied, only to be grabbed up again by a group of men with mouths as big as their beer bellies. Dell tried to tune them out, but he would have needed noise-proof headphones to do it. Between the four of them, they had an opinion on every aspect of racing, none of which were based on any version of reality Dell knew of. He finished his burger, signaled the waitress for his check and was about to leave when their conversation turned interesting.
“How about that Sadie Hawkins?” one of them asked as the rest guffawed and contributed more inappropriate comments about the woman.
“Heard she was shagging the crew chief,” one said.
“That old man? Naw, I heard that's how she got Dell.” another said. “I'll bet he's driving more than her car.” They all laughed at the remark, adding a number of lewd comments that resulted in more laughter. Dell sat back and listened briefly. He didn't care what people said about him, hell, it had all been said a dozen times: but when it came to Caro, he didn't like what he was hearing. These people didn't know her. They just didn't want a woman invading what they perceived as their territory.
“Maybe he'll knock her up and send the little woman home where she belongs.”
“If he doesn't, someone else will. I bet she spreads those legs of hers for anybody with a dick.”
Dell had heard enough. He rose from his seat, removed his cap and held it tightly with both hands to keep from belting one, or all of them. Two steps brought him to their table.
“Excuse me,” he said. Four faces turned to him. He waited until they recognized him and realized they'd been talking about his new boss and him. “I don't care what you say about me personally, but the lady in question doesn't deserve to be talked about that way. I'd appreciate you minding your own business.”
Dell slipped his cap back on and left, congratulating himself on getting out before he did something that would get him suspended from racing – again. NASCAR frowned on drivers punching out the fans, though in Dell's opinion, the sport could use a few less fans like those.
Chapter Five
Caro gasped, but refused to look away. Everything had been going smooth, up until now. Now, all she could do was sit atop the war wagon and watch helplessly as her racecar spun down the track, sliding completely out of control through the narrow strip of grass between the track and the inside wall on turn three. When it came to a halt, it was facing backwards.
She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer that Dell was all right – even if he deserved to die for that last stunt. He'd passed the 28 car without incident. Why he slid in front of him like he did was beyond comprehension. Getting bumped and spun out was what he deserved.
“You okay?” Russell asked Dell.
Her headset crackled. Dell's voice met her ears. “I'm alive.” Caro sighed in relief. “Car's okay, I think. Restarting now.”
She watched in disbelief as Dell spun the car around in place, and roared back onto the track. He was several laps behind now, but he drove with the determination of someone defending his first place status.
“You've got grass in the grill. Bring it in,” Russell ordered.