There is a fool proof theory I've had in my life for years. It has stood the test of time as far as I'm concerned and even lead me to where I am right now. Not that where I am is that great but being a grease monkey sure beats that desk job I had. Anyway that theory I was talking about? Its simple really if I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining through the curtains I know that the day is going to be decent. Maybe not good and rarely is it find a hundred dollars on the sidewalk great but nothing too bad happens either. On the other hand when I wake up to anything from monsoon rain pounding the windows to a light drizzle I know to pull those covers up over my blonde head and hide away for the day if I can. The problem is I rarely can. Instead I waste a perfectly good day with the worst imaginable luck. I'm not talking lose contact in the sink bad luck either. It's always break the heel of your favorite shoes on the pavement while simultaneously getting drenched by a moron in a taxicab driving through a pot hole full of water bad luck. Today was one of those days I just wanted to hide away in a nice warm bed the problem was I had a race track to get to and the vibrating phone on my desk only reminded me of this.
My name is Alexandra Barnaby and I was seriously late for the work session preceding the first race to be held at Talladega. Recently I was offered a position by Stiller Racing which I grabbed up in a minute. I should have looked for the catch but working around a speedway was my equivalent of Paris Hilton getting the latest Louis V purse two years before its launch. Before I give away the big punch line I should back things up a little bit. Last year my brother "Wild" Bill went missing and I was desperate to find him. This was when I got caught up in a fast paced romance with NASCAR driver Sam Hooker. To the racing world he's basically a rock star so I mostly blame my brother for having to deal with Hooker. Anyway before Hooker I was the sensible child. I went to college and got a degree in engineering then I worked for an insurance company nice and safe behind a desk all day. Pre-Hooker Bill was the loose cannon. Hooker changed a lot of things but like I said I blame Bill too. As for that catch? I was working as a spotter for Hooker meaning half the year I was the only bleached blonde person standing on top of the flat roof of any given speedway whispering in Hooker's ear what he can't see for himself on the track.
Anyone red blooded woman would die for the chance to be that person and heck maybe even a guy or two but there's more to the story than that. For the past few months I'd also been the same bleached blonde, lip glossed woman standing next to Hooker in all those glossy paged magazines his picture graced. You guessed it. For the past few months Hooker and I had been playing house and testing out the whole dating thing. So far it was working but on a day like today anything could happen.
Forgoing my usual routine of brushing my teeth and jumping into a fourty five minute shower I tossed my hair into a fairly decent pony tail and thanked God for small favors. It was days like today I appreciated my lack of curls. I literally ran out of the suit Hooker was staying in almost forgetting it was on the top floor and doing the make up thing on the elevator ride down. I could tell the elevator operator boy was impressed by my utter ability to mascara and white knuckle the handrail at the same time. I have this thing with heights and I have this thing about elevators - both could cause instant death and falling. Not such a pleasant thought but I barely had time for it as I rushed from the lobby and jumped in a waiting taxi. I was in such a hurry I even forgot to do a mini-celebration for my lack of vertigo. It had seemed unimportant in light of my being fifteen minutes late for the test run. I reminded myself to kill Hooker later. I loved my job and I was never late. This didn't look good for me being the first month and all. It didn't help that I was the only girl [I'm pretty sure I was the only girl in my particular field.
A mere fifteen minutes later I was standing in the infield with the rest of the male dominated crew. Today I was sporting the standard uniform of tight black jeans and the white Stiller Racing tee shirt trimmed in black and gold. Embroidered across the back were the words MOTOR MOUTH and across the front was the Stiller emblem. If not for the hair and makeup I would have fit in quite well with the boys who surrounded me. As it was I could hardly pay attention to the conversation and only caught snippets of whatever it was Nick Shrin was talking about. He was a fellow employee of Stiller Racing and drove the yellow-and-red car sponsored by Yum Yum Cakes. There was one more person missing and I had an inkling I knew where he was. I had arrived just in time to catch a red haired woman wearing a cheap suit with a pen and paper in hand swing her ass on patent pumps into the garage. I had a feeling exactly where she was swinging her ass to and it didn't quite give me the warm and fuzzies inside.
"Barney?"
"What?" I snapped at whoever had dared to snap the murderous thoughts I had just been having from my head. I know interviews are part of the job but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I know I should trust Hooker and his judgment but I knew them both and I knew them well.
"You okay? Cause the way you been wringing that program kind of makes me want to take a few steps back."
The interruption had come from Jefferson Davis Warner better known to the race community as Gobbles. Apparently he got the name when he was still a kid and always the first in line at lunch. Now a days he looked more like a cross between a fuzzy baby bird and an oversized puppy dog but in an endearing sort of way. He was the spotter for Nick Shrin and like the good driver he was Nick was standing next to his spotter. Mine was chatting up Ms. Plastic Surgery Bimbo just beyond the opening of the garage door. I could just feel it and if that wasn't enough then woman's intuition covered the rest. There was the distinctive sound of shredding paper as these thoughts rushed through my head and I looked down a little startled. I'd thought Gobbles had been kidding about the program it was nine glossy pages thick and I could hardly tear it on my best day. Now it was an almost indistinguishable mess of torn paper and permanently creased pages. Looking a bit sheepish I excused myself from the group and discreetly disposed of the program in the nearest trash can. Away from the guys I couldn't help but take the chance to see what Hooker and the bimbette were up to. Mostly obscured by a hauler belonging to a driver I had never met before I listened intently for any odd noises coming from the garage.
It was hard to hear over the clank of tools and deafening roar of motors but my intuition had rarely failed me before. It had lead me all the way to Miami for goodness sakes and to Bill. If it could do that then I had no reason to believe that it was wrong about Miss Thing in the cheap suit. And though I very much wanted to believe it was the out of place high pitched giggle I heard next confirmed my suspicions - Hooker was working his southern charm on the local newspaper writer. It was hard to tell if she was even legit I had seen some talented pit lizards in my short time here. Who knew to what new lows they could reach. I was about to turn on my heel and preform a rather grand storm away when I noticed Hooker and the reporter walking towards me. There were only two options for me at this point and despite my desire not to see either of them diving under a hauler was firmly against my religion. The only thing left to do was feign ignorance and walk right for them. Maybe I could weasel by into the garage. A revving engine and the smell of oil had always had a way of calming me down.
Despite the drizzle that had steadily been falling through the humid hair for upwards of an hour now I thought that today would prove my theory wrong. I could practically see myself walking through the door of the garage without be disturbed. I could feel the cool metal of a wrench in my hand [not that they would ever give me one but a girl can dream. And then it all popped before my eyes as I felt the very familiar weight of an arm around my shoulders and smelled the very familiar scent of cologne and car that could only belong to one very familiar man. I chanced a look around and noticed the cheap journalist who had occupied my thoughts earlier and knew that today was not going to be the day I broke the curse. The so sickeningly sweet it could only be fake smile on her face was enough to prove that much.
"Just the girl I was looking for." Hooker said his Texas drawl firmly in place. I knew that drawl anywhere and I knew there were two occasions he put it to good use. One of them was definitely out of the picture being that we were standing in the middle of a raceway with dozens of people standing around. The other I couldn't think about right now without turning the red head into something similar to the program from earlier. "I was just telling Sheila here that we were all going to Nikki's when we were done here for the day."
I opened my mouth to speak and closed it again. Hooker had done a lot of stupid things in the short amount of time we had been dating but this had to take the cake. He couldn't be serious. In fact, I had myself half convinced that he was going to declare it a joke when they started talking times. There was another of those ear splitting giggles and Sheila playfully slapped Hooker like he was the funniest person she had ever heard. I knew Hooker's jokes well and they were easily the stupidest I had ever heard. Even the guys only laughed at them to be good sports.
"Right." I said hands on hips literally biting my tongue so hard I thought it might bleed. "I would love to stay and chat but I have things to do."
It may have come out a little more forcefully than expected but I was sure the doe eyed look Sheila gave me was fake. Merely for the benefit of the driver in front of her. It was no secret that Hooker and I were romantically involved. Stevie Dicks had blown the cover off of that one a few months back. It was all down hill from there. I quickly ducked under Hooker's arm and walked with determination. I wanted as much space between me and them as I could get before I turned around and decided that beating Sheila was what I really wanted to do. I was half way to my goal when Hooker half walked, half jogged to my side easily keeping pace with his long legs. Sometimes the boy just couldn't take a hint.
"That wasn't very nice of ya darlin'." Hooker said an amused look on his face. If looks could kill he would have been a dead man. The one I gave to him could have made a giant lion whimper in the corner.
"Don't you darlin' me." I told Hooker not slowing my pace one bit. I was determined to get away from him and sooner or later I knew I would get my chance. He could only go so far before the car would be ready and then it was time for the photo op. As last years winner he was obligated. I could be half way to home by then.
"Don't tell me you're angry about Sheila." He said daring to give a chuckle at the thought. "C'mon this is all a part of the job. Its just a few business drinks. And you'll all be there. Its not like its a date she knows that."
My response to Hooker was an annoyed growl and that was when I felt it. Someone had driven their little fixed up golf cart right through the mud beside us and as luck would have it I was the one who was sprayed. It was just the hem of my jeans but it was enough. Like I often say - things could only go down hill from there. As I stormed off to the hauler I could hear Hooker laughing behind me. He always found things like this amusing. He was never on the receiving end of things like this.