"Could you please just stop." River muttered sarcastically, standing in front of his car as they waited for the usual prerace formalities to be out of the way.
"Stop what?" Jesse replied.
"Doing what you're doing."
"And what is it that I'm doing?"
He stared vacantly at the side of his car as he waited for an answer from River, arms crossed as he leaned back against the rail and kicked idly at his front tire. The Twin-H-Power decal had caught his attention, why before that particular race he wasn't sure, but even as he spoke to the others the thought of the abbreviation for twin Hudson had struck him out of nowhere. Jesse mentally shook himself free of any thoughts aside from racing and offered a grim smile when River finally did respond.
"Winning. That's what you're doing."
"It is the name of the game." He taunted lightly before they were both interrupted.
Smokey cut between the two and offered a mocking look of derision toward River. "Leave my racer alone or I'll have you reported."
"You can do that?"
"We can find out can't we?" He grinned when River raised his hands in defeat before turning toward Jesse. He lowered his tone and glanced sidelong toward the stands. "You're gunna need to keep your mouth shut the next few races, you're rubbing people the wrong way."
"Who's people?"
"These new-"
"These new admins need to stop throwing their weight around." Jesse hissed lowly. "I know you agree with m-"
"Not here. Jesse." He shook his head in warning. "Not here..."
It had been a surprise the week before to a few of them to hear that entry fees had been raised for drivers, the answer many of them received being the sponsors are taking care of entry fees, teams have nothing to worry about.
Jesse gave them that, they personally hadn't seen an entry fee out of pocket in years, and Mr. Kingsley had assured them it wasn't a problem.
"Keep doing what you're doing and I'll take care of the rest." They had made sure there was complete understanding in this new way of doing things.
What they hadn't expected was to hear that ticket prices for spectators had risen in cost as well.
It was during the delay before the race the week before that Jesse had approached someone with the question as to why. Track conditions had been questionable and while stretching his legs he'd been surprised to see a father and son leaving the ticket window. Instead of entering the stands they'd been heading back toward the parking lot.
"Forget something?" He'd asked with a faint grin, remembering any number of times something similar had happened when he was the boy's age.
"No-" The man had done a poor job of hiding his embarrassment, and was unable to stop his son before the boy launched in to a tearful admittance that they had saved and saved and saved to see a Piston Race when it reached their nearest town but they still didn't have enough.
"We don't have enough for both tickets-"
Jesse had looked up at the man in surprise and shook his head, explaining that as far as he knew, all Piston tracks charged the same.
"They did." The man had replied. "But they just explained to us that tracks can now charge what they want."
He'd taken them back to an empty ticket window and spoke as pleasantly as possible with the girl behind the counter. It wasn't her fault people were being turned away. He'd scribbled a note and signed the bottom hastily before sliding it across to her and explained to make the others selling tickets aware as well. The race would be starting in twenty minutes, there couldn't be that many people still waiting to get in...
Jesse had turned to the man, explained that the girl would take care of them and told them to enjoy the race before leaving to find someone in administration. He'd probably been quite the sight, stalking through the thinning crowd as the spectators all searched for their sections in the stands, weaving in and out of people that continually glanced down at their ticket stub or glanced up at him in surprise as he passed. His racing jacket stuck out like a neon sign amidst the formal clothing of those attending, and he was sure it was quite the show when he had finally caught up to a few of those in administration that were present.
He'd run in to Joe first, who had looked him over in bemusement as another man spoke beside him.
"Hudson. Shouldn't you be down there?"
"I'm right where I want to be, thank you." He nodded briefly toward Moore. "Joe."
Joe had nodded in return. "Jesse, is something wrong?"
"Yeah. I want to know why everything is getting so expensive."
"Expensive?" The newer man, he had no idea of his name, asked. "This is a sport that-"
Jesse cut in. "Only certain people can attend? Participate in?" He continued before the other could get a word in, gesturing toward the main entrances. "Why are prices changing so abruptly? This is a roughneck pastime, it's not some high rolling elite entertainment."
"Mr. Hudson I'm sure those who wish to attend a race will be able to do so."
"No." He nearly snapped before catching himself. "Not everyone attends races wearing Brooks Brothers. I can't tell you how many people would be turned away-"
"You don't know."
"But I will." Jesse clarified. "I can let you know in a day's time, because I'm the one picking up the tab."
He'd been able to scrape together pocket change to attend races in '50. It had more than tripled since. He wouldn't have even been able to stare from the outside of the fence links if prices had been that steep four years ago.
"That's your prerogative, Mr. Hudson."
Jesse had set his jaw and exchanged a look with Joe before relenting somewhat. Tilting his head in annoyance he nodded once. "True enough, but I think a few of us will be making some inquiries in the next few days. In the mean time I have a race to run and I'm sure you have something else that needs changing."
He hadn't stuck around to hear what had been said, but he had made sure to let Henry know of the whole situation before someone else could. Jesse knew those were the kind of encounters that could be spun a certain way, and he knew that if Joe hadn't been present, he would have been made to look like the one in the wrong. He probably still would be, but he'd have to wait and see.
In just the twenty minutes before the race started, Jesse picked up the remaining balances of fifty individuals who would have otherwise been unable to attend that week.
Henry knew he'd paint a target on his back with that exchange, just because they were the leading force of Piston Cup didn't mean they got away with everything. Egos and politics were dangerous. He knew Jesse's ego was the size of Georgia but he wasn't sure how good the kid was with the political arena.
They had started making calls and inquiring after certain changes that week, but were sent in circles until they were so frustrated they would hang up or agree to call at another time. When they'd shared what had happened with the others, they all wondered if cornering Moore would be beneficial to getting the information they needed. He was the administrator in charge of Thomasville, which made him the easiest to find and speak to face to face.
"-we're just drivers." Junior muttered, finally bringing them back to the present with his comment. "What do we know?"
"Not much." Jesse shrugged before stretching. "I drive in circles with my foot on the gas."
"If only it were that simple."
"It isn't?"
"Don't push it, Hudson."
"Touchy." He kicked at the front tire of the Hornet again, still looking over the paint job and decals vaguely as the others spoke.
"I told you, it's because he hasn't made any shine lately." Lou threw in her two cents.
"Well that's not my fault." Jesse looked up and gestured to himself dramatically. "I'll take credit for your awful performance here on the track but anything else is-"
"Does he ever shut up."
"Not since I've known him..."
"-out of my hands...hey-"
Smokey rolled his eyes and pushed Jesse lightly toward the car. "If you're gunna sulk, sulk in the car. Preferably at the front of the pack at least."
"When am I ever not?"
"Sulking or at the front of the pack?" He smiled when Jesse realized he'd walked in to that comment.
Joe was happy that the betting involved with Piston Cup had nothing to do with the actual running of Piston Cup. That kind of book keeping looked like a headache. He still stayed away from it, as an employee he knew that some looked upon the practice of betting as a conflict of interest. It was easier to just keep your hands clean than to open the door for questions or misunderstanding.
Not that there were times he didn't question his own personal rule. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd thought of stepping out of the press boxes and take a walk to the betting counters. Team #51 was the safe bet, nine times out of ten.
Team #51, the team that had carried the sport for the last few years, who were now seeing the ever changing face of the game. He'd been trying to do some digging without it really coming to anyone's attention. He'd been unaware of the inflation of costs at separate tracks until Hudson had shared that bit of information. Thomasville had never seen need to do so and he'd apparently been naive enough to think that all tracks ran the same way. Which was a mistake really in hindsight. Some of those tracks had more than doubled their renovations whereas Thomasville had really only tidied up a bit...
He knew Hudson was unhappy with a few of the latest developments and had spoken to the elder brother briefly when they'd crossed paths over the situation concerning sponsors. He'd considered it, he really had but he wasn't sure he knew enough concerning the mechanics of racing to hold that kind of position. Of course he knew mechanics well enough, what made a car run, he knew the legalities and everything his current position entailed but hadn't been sure about ownership. He should have considered it a little harder, some of these sponsors didn't look like they knew the first thing about Piston Cup...
Joe had agreed with the points Jesse had made a few weeks prior, and had been thinking over the ramifications since. How many possible future Piston drivers, team members, officials or administrators were being turned away because they couldn't afford to attend? Hudson was right. Piston Cup wasn't something only for the elite. It was literally built on the backs of moonshiners and kids who had nothing better to do than fix up their cars.
It might be too late in the season already to bring this forward. He'd certainly try, but it more than likely would be placed on the back burner until the following spring. To gather all teams and administration between races was nearly impossible, and they'd grown too large to just have small impromptu gatherings before or after a race. He wasn't even sure how he was able spend so much time in the main offices. Though it explained why he didn't have his own place. Why buy a house when you were never there?
Collecting the few files he'd come across, he threw them in a folder with a sigh and left his desk. Halfway down the hall he paused outside an open doorway and backtracked before knocking on the door frame.
"Come in."
"Miss Piston, I'm surprised to see you still here."
"Yes well. When you're the only one who seems to know how to organize something in alphabetical order..." She glanced up at him. "I could say the same for you."
Joe only raised a brow and tapped the thin folder against his free hand. "I'm doing research."
Emily crossed her arms over the top of the desk and eyed the folder he held. "Oh?"
"I suppose you don't know much about the differing track policies?"
"I'm afraid not." She gave him a knowing look. "Though I've heard some discrepancies."
She held a hand out and he passed the folder to her over the desk, watching as she looked over the meager amount of paperwork.
Without addressing the topic directly she flipped the folder closed and looked back up at him. "Is it alright if I keep this? I'm sure I can add to it in my down time. I do keep track of the majority of the paperwork."
Joe blinked in surprise, not expecting her to want to become involved.
"You can take it back whenever you need, but, well-" She glanced toward the door and back up at him. "No one goes through my work space."
He understood suddenly and nodded once, tapping the polished surface of the heavy desk. "Absolutely, Miss Piston."
They each said goodnight and he turned toward the door, glancing over his shoulder and replying to her parting comment before closing the door behind him.
"Have to look out for the little guy, right."
"Little guy...right...don't let that get back to him."