I grabbed my phone off of the arm of the couch and shot off a text to Remy. You guys have something for the left?
“Can I turn it?” Ash held up the remote and pointed it at the TV.
“I’d much rather not watch anymore. I don’t think McDougal has gone yet.” Violet wrinkled her nose. “I can’t stand looking at him. He just oozes cocky douche nozzle.”
“Just what exactly does that look like?” Mitch asked. “You know, just so I know what to look for in the future.”
Violet launched a pillow at him. “You know exactly what I mean,” she whined. “He’s an ass.”
“That oozes,” Kurt chuckled.
My phone chimed, and I was surprised Remy had texted me back so quickly. You saw that? Can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with the car.
What all did you guys try? There wasn’t any sense in telling them the things I thought could be done until I heard what they tried.
Pressure. Quick check of the alignment. And we also sacrificed a goat to the car gods. Nothing worked.
Such a smartass. Was it a female or male goat?
Twins. One of each, plus we threw in a duck for good measure. Nada.
“That Brooks?” Mitch asked.
I shook my head. “No. It’s Remy. Just asking him what he thinks is wrong with the car.”
“Just put the guy out of his misery, and tell him what he needs to do.” Luke walked around the couch and ruffled my hair with his hand as he walked past me. “They know they need you, Frank. Stop being difficult.”
I wasn’t being difficult. I was standing up for myself.
At least, that was what it had started out as. But ever since Brooks had downed a palm full of red pepper flakes, and he apologized for not knowing my name and being a dick, I wasn’t quite sure why exactly I was standing up for myself.
What springs are you running? I had a theory, and if he said what I think he was going to, then I knew exactly what was up with the car.
MaxLite. The same ones we’ve been running.
I shook my head. Nope, he was wrong. At least partly. I had been running some trial tests with the springs but hadn’t told anyone before I quit. Croft in the rear, and MaxLite in the front. Try that.
What? We don’t even have any Croft.
Not with them they didn’t, but back at the shop they did. They’re under my workbench. There should be one set left. I assumed they had replaced the springs before the car left Leeds Square and didn’t realize they weren’t putting on the same ones they had just taken off.
Are you serious right now? You couldn’t have sent off a text to let me know that?
I hadn’t really thought about it, and like I said, I was just testing out a theory I had. A theory, that Brooks had just proven right. How is Brooks doing?
You actually care?
Just like Remy to say what he was thinking. I was just asking. It has to be hard to not qualify.
He’s not around. Took off for his trailer as soon as he got out of the car.
Not good at all. Do what I said about the springs, and I guarantee you guys will qualify the next race.
“You just save the day?” Scarlett asked quietly.
I gave her a small smile. “I’m hardly a hero, Scar. Just gave Remy an idea on what he could do.”
She draped her arm across my shoulders and pulled me into a half hug. “You need to get back there, Frank. We all know working at SRK or Lee’s is not what you were meant to do. You’re meant for bigger things than working for your brothers.”
I had always thought that, but lately, I had doubted being as good as I thought I was. Working for four months without any recognition and an occasional pat on the back had screwed with my confidence. But it had also pissed me off to no end. It was a strange thing to know you’re good, but no one recognizes it. “I know I’m not meant to work here, Scar, but I don’t know if working for Brooks is what I’m meant to be doing.”
“You sure about that?” she asked quietly.
I wasn’t sure about anything. I had been, but then Brooks had flown in and screwed up everything I thought. “Stop Dr. Philing me, would ya?” I didn’t need Scarlett all up in my head trying to tell me what I should be doing.
She gave me a gentle squeeze. “Just do what makes you happy, Frankie. Even if that means you have to go back to Cummings Racing with your tail between your legs for a couple of seconds because you left in a blaze of glory.” She sighed and leaned close. “Just so you know, if there is footage of you throwing that wrench at Brooks, I will pay good money to see it.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You were sounding like a normal person, and then bam, your Jensen side came out.”
She shrugged. “Hey, after spending so much time with your three brothers, you can’t really expect not to pick up a few of their weird quirks.”
“No secrets,” Mitch yelled. He crooked his finger at Scarlett. “Whatever you’re whispering to her, you better be whispering to me tonight.”
I sat back onto the couch and smiled. “Man, you two sure are kinky. Who would have thought you liked Scarlett talking to you about Brooks Cummings when you’re in bed? Different strokes for different folks and all of that.”
Mitch flipped me off. “I hate you.”
“You walked right into that one,” Scarlett giggled.
Mitch grumbled about not getting any respect anymore while Scarlett said Brooks’ name in every accent she could manage.
Violet looked over at me and laughed. “If you don’t leave, you have this to look forward to every weekend.”
While I loved spending time with my family, this wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. I wanted to working on dragsters.
I wanted to be the person who knew the secrets to make the car run perfectly.
I was that person, but I didn’t have a team to work for. I did, but I was going to have to swallow my ego and go crawling back to Cummings.
Not exactly my ideal situation, but if I wanted to be happy, I knew what I needed to do.
*
Chapter Eleven
Brooks
“Non-stop. One way.”
Harlyn looked up at me from her computer screen. “Huh? One way?”
I nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”
“From Chicago to here?”
“That’s what I said.”
She warily examined me. “You really think this is the best idea?”
I had to tamp down the way my dad raised me and demand to know who she was that she thought she could question what I was doing. “I don’t have any other choice. I need to talk to her again, and I can’t leave home right now. Just send her the email with the flight info and my phone number.”
“Uh, that’s all you want me to send her?”
This was my last ditch effort to get Frankie back to Cummings Racing.
Remy had told me he talked to Frankie right after the race, and she told him what was wrong with the car. There had been no way in hell we would have been able to figure that out.
“Yeah. If she has any questions, she can call me.”
Harlyn clicked a half a dozen times and smiled. “You do know if she calls you, she isn't it going to talk to you. It’s more like she’s going to rip your balls off through the phone and shove them down your throat.”