Shelby sighed as she checked her phone to the last two messages to Nacho that went unanswered.
He had made a noncommittal statement about attending in person. And though she hadn't necessarily needed him there, she had at least hoped to see him. She imagined him standing in the group with her team, cheering proudly as she took her place on the podium.
She had sent him a bar code that gave him access to the line up area with her team. Maybe it wasn't working and he was stuck outside, unable to get past security.
But her mind snapped back to the present as the rumble of an engine roared behind her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. There was no time for that, she needed to get her focus on the race.
"Let's go over the course again." Mercedes gestured to the map of the course. Her face looked less than impressed by Shelby's daydreaming.
"Fine." Shelby took a deep breath and tried to picture herself behind the controls. "First leg is the salt flats where the loop starts and ends."
The flat space was bisected by the starting line. Where large bleachers had been erected and where the exclusive press junket would be analyzing and scrutinizing.
Mercedes confirmed. "This is where everyone will be getting their speed. Anticipate a lot of commotion as people try to pass. Be fast, but be defensive." She anxiously tucked her hair behind her ears. "What's next."
Shelby moved her finger around the next path, "the sand dunes are only for a mile but eat up a lot of speed. I'll only have a short stretch to gain ground before The Forge." She pointed to an area where columns of stacked rocks stood like an irregular skyline, created arches, lots of debris, and was a variable forest of stone.
"Right, please be careful. It might be good to take a back seat here, watch where others go, see a clear path marked out, and remember it for lap two and three." Her tone was riddled with anxiety, and she jumped a little when another engine revved up behind them. To compensate, she pretended to adjust the Andretti racing shirt, fixing the collar that wasn't out of place.
"Don't worry. I'll play it safe." Shelby offered for the millionth time.
"At least for the first lap." Ferra entered the tent, a broad smile on her face. Her Andretti team racing shirt was unbuttoned and tied up around her waist now, her cleavage out and proud.
"You disappeared after we left inspection." Shelby smiled back. "Where have you been?"
"Ugh, I got caught up, some pit monkey with a clipboard and a radio just had to remind me all of ten times to be at the starting blocks on time." Ferra took a seat and leaned forward to look at the map. "Then I took a look at our competition… taking in the local sights." She winked.
"Let's finish up here." Mercedes pressed, her lips formed a tight line.
"You going through it again? Don't you have it memorized yet?" Ferra chided, leaning back in a chair till the front legs were off the ground. Placing her brand new, perfectly clean work boots on a crate.
Ferra looked like an absolute pit-bunny, and Shelby tried not to roll her eyes as her sister tossed the empty lollipop stick back behind her in the sand.
"Okay, okay." Shelby raised her palms defensively. "But I'm suiting up while we do."
She pulled the fire suit out of the trunk and unzipped it.
"After that, The Forge breaks way, we have a hard right turn along the canyon wall. If I get my speed up I can ride it vertically along with everyone else." She pointed to her sister, "I watched the footage, everyone who's won, rides the canyon curve. I'm doing it too."
Mercedes pursed her lips and looked at Ferra for back up, "she shouldn't right? Please. Tell her to play it safe, at least in the first lap."
"I appreciate your input but I'll be fine. After the canyon is the crater, I'll hang a hard left, and lose a ton of speed, but try to gain it again in the bowl. Then keep it pressed up through the salt flats." Shelby slipped her feet through the pants and re-strung her boots.
"You're not gonna try the crag?" Ferra opened a promotionally labeled sucker and popped it in her mouth.
"Absolutely not." Mercedes slammed her palm on the table.
Shelby wiggled the fire suit up her waist and over her shoulders. "I've thought about it." She said offhandedly. "The last three winners took it." She pointed to the sweeping curve of the canyon wall. "It saves momentum. If you stay on the canyon wall, you keep going straight, well, more like the straight away of a figure eight, putting you into the crag. You build up enough speed and you make the gap. Otherwise you have to slow down to make the turn to the safe side of the crater."
"The last three winners. Sure. But how many people died before it was finally proven it could be done?" Mercedes protested.
Ferra shrugged, tilting her chair back further. "Well if the last three did it, you know more people are going to take the risk if it means a spot on the podium."
"Why don't you just make the full jump over the crater then? Shelby could be the first to do it, or the hundredth to die trying." Mercedes's tone was shrill and desperate.
Shelby gently placed a hand on her shoulder, "I won't do it. You're right, I don't have a coffin picked out."
"That's not funny." Mercedes crossed her arms, but her tone had softened.
Mercedes helped hook the suit into the coolant system. The machine was turned on and blue goo began to creep up the hose and into the tube system inside the racing suit.
As it circulated it felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water onto her skin.
Shelby involuntarily shivered. She had been a little anxious to get on the starting blocks, but the cold practically shook her brain awake, and she was antsy to get into the car and under the sun.
"Alright. We're good to go." Mercedes unhooked the tube and sealed the valve.
Ferra looked at her watch and rocked the chair forward. "We might as well make our way over before Shelby freezes to death." She stood with a smile.
Mercedes shot her a glare, "no jokes about death. Just off the table till this is over. Okay?"
Ferra held out her hands defensively, "you got it. Only maiming jokes."
Shelby nervously laughed and scooped up her helmet.
They exited the tent and began to walk over to the racecar.
Welcoming the sun to help warm her up, she shook out of a shiver as she walked with her small crew towards the inspection station where the car was parked. The suit was bulky and weighed down each step. Making them even more awkward as she trudged across the loose sand.
Tents of various colors from sponsors or leagues stood in neat rows across the sand. The other racers were beginning to mill out of their tents or were talking to small press crews in front of makeshift, logo spattered, backdrops.
There was too much commotion to make out where Toni or Mickey's tents were, and she resolved to wish them luck in her mind, and forgo in person.
In the days leading up to the race, only a few news studios had reached out to her. But only asked if her father or grandfather would approve of this less legitimate racing style, or if she was using up the last good graces of the Andretti legacy. One even asked if her dad would be watching her race from prison.
Having refused to answer any of that nonsense, today, she might as well have been invisible.
They walked through the crowded backlot of the race and drivers with beautiful entourages and agents walked past her with their heads held high.
Her imposter syndrome flared up and was thankful her feet were on autopilot to carry her the rest of the way to the car in the inspection zone.
Shelby and her sisters entered the temporary structure and began walking down the center aisle past rows and rows of cars being inspected before the race.
Air conditioning was blasting and it made Shelby shiver more inside her suit.
Having never competed with the car in the off road circuit, her team was the last in the line up and furthest from the entrance.
Down the way, her heart skipped a little when she saw Ignacio was beside her team's car.
He was standing between it and a group of drunk guys all wearing the lime green shirt of another competitor.
Obviously the bros from another racers entourage, they had wandered from their leader and were looking to pick a fight before the race. One took his can and poured it out on Nacho's feet. The group jeered and were closing the circle around him.
"No food or drink in the inspection area." A security guard called out, but remained in place.
One of the guys laughed and called back, "don't worry, we're all out now."
The guard rolled his eyes and went back to watching out across the cars.
Nacho's posture remained upright, his chest raised, and yet his hands were clasped in a relaxed position behind his back.
Shelby and her companions picked up their pace, trying to weave quickly through the crowded space towards the commotion. Shelby was the slowest, the protective suit was stiff and heavy, making her ability to run or move gracefully impossible.
One of the bros' faces turned red, incensed from Nacho's lack of reaction, he began getting closer and closer to his face. His voice only continued to raise as Nacho remained unengaged.
Ferra surprisingly closed the distance first and stood at Nacho's side. She pulled the sucker from her mouth and used it to point in the face of the closest guy. "Easy there brohemoth, the hotdog stand hasn't run out yet. No need to come here looking for a weiner in your mouth."
One of the guys at the back of the group chuckled, but quickly recovered when he got a glare from his buddy.
The bottle moved so fast Shelby barely saw it as the in front man swung it towards Nacho's face.
Nacho gracefully ducked beneath the blow, catching the attacker's wrist and twisting hard. The man's grip released and Nacho easily pulled the bottle from his grasp.
With one swift movement he shoved the neck of the bottle down the guy's throat sending him stumbling back, gurgling in pain.
Nacho whipped him around by the arm and practically threw him out the side exit door. Head making first contact to push the door open, he crashed to the ground outside in a hard thump.
"Yeah, no food or drinks!" Ferra called after him.
Nacho returned to standing, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed fashion again and he watched the group with a cold predatory stare.
Mercedes laughed and stood by Ferra's side. And although the drunks didn't look immediately intimidated, her height made her a shoulder above all of them. She lifted the hem of her shirt to expose a black handle of a gun tucked in her shorts. "Time for you to go."
Shelby gawked at it as she finally caught up. She didn't even know Mercedes had a gun, let alone be brash enough to casually brandish it in public.
The group of guys took it in and collectively moved a step back.
"Enjoy the race." Nacho said, his voice like cold daggers.
They quickly made their way out the exit door, picking up their friend and disappearing from sight.
"That was awesome!" Ferra turned to Nacho, beaming.
Nacho ignored her and looked at Mercedes, studying her for a moment as if taking mental notes.
Shelby had never seen Nacho move that quickly. His motions were always slow, controlled, deliberate. But the way he dodged the bottle and turned it so quickly against the man. Then she was surprised again with how quickly his posture returned to its same stoic position after. It brought up more questions than it answered about his mysterious past.
Ferra whooped and slapped Nacho on the shoulder, ranting about how she was also ready to throw down and wish she had gotten something in.
Shelby was still processing it when Nacho broke away from Ferra and walked over to her.
His face wasn't even concerned, he looked at her, the corners of his mouth turned up. "I'm glad I didn't miss you." He leaned forward and gently kissed her on the cheek.
Shelby couldn't make words just yet, and was still reeling from what happened. Her pulse and adrenaline were too high to even feel the cold of the racing suit.
Mercedes came over to them but stood facing the door as she asked Nacho, "What happened?"
"I was on my way to your tent, but when I couldn't find it I thought I'd wait for you here." Nacho shrugged.
Ferra did a few practice punches in the air. "Is it weird I almost want them to come back?"
"Yes." Shelby scolded. "I don't want to get disqualified on a technicality."
"If anything, they should." Nacho glared over at the guard. "They were walking a little too close to the other cars. And when they came to yours… well, you saw."
"It's good you didn't find the tent then." Mercedes added, her posture relaxing a little and turned to face Nacho. Her expression softened, "I'm glad you were here."
Shelby practically gawked at her sister. Unsure if there would ever be anything Nacho could do to make her like him since the nonsense at The Crown and Jester. But she reached forward and held out her hand for him to shake in truce.
Nacho looked down, nodding softly, and returned the gesture.
An inspector cleared his throat and slapped a clipboard in his hand. "I see the no food or drink rule was ignored." He tapped his toe at the puddle on the floor by their car.
Ferra opened her mouth to protest but Shelby put out a hand to stop her.
"Sorry sir, It's coolant from my suit. We fixed the hole and it shouldn't happen again." She offered with a sweet smile.
"Hmm. Just clean it up before you go." He pulled the stack of papers from the clipboard and held them out. "You're free to take your places."
"Of course, thank you!" Shelby answered and took the papers.
"I'm not cleaning this shit." Ferra scowled at the small puddle.
Mercedes rolled her eyes and went over to the wall, yanking off a whole roll of paper towels and wrapping it around her hand vigorously. She handed a wad of them to Nacho for his shoes, then she tossed the remainder onto the spill and began to say something in a low tone to her cranky sister.
Shelby walked over to the drivers side and started to climb in.
Nacho offered her hand and she got in enough to sit on the ledge of the door frame.
It was getting more real now, there was no turning back. And if she could, did she really want to? The press had no confidence in her, or worse, disinterest in anything the Andretti family had to do in the world of racing anymore. Her family's legacy withered and left behind.
"I feel so insignificant." Shelby admitted as she rested her forehead on the roof of the car.
"Once the race starts, it doesn't matter." Nacho shrugged. "Do interviews make any of those people faster or better than you?"
"No." She admitted, pulling her head off the car.
He leaned forward matching the tilt of his head with her own to look her square in the eyes.
"What if I don't win?" She looked back at Nacho, swallowing hard as reality set in. "What if I can't even finish?"
"You have just as much claim to the title as anyone." Nacho gently cupped her face in his worn hand. "Don't worry about anyone else. It's just you out there."
Shelby lifted her head all the way up, but Nacho continued his unbreaking gaze.
His eyebrows knit together, raising a little in the center and eyes were earnest. "And you have all the control. You can get yourself through this."
Shelby sat up straight, rolling her shoulders back. "You're right." She took in a deep breath and put her arms around his shoulders, squeezing tightly, breathing him in.
He wrapped her arms around her waist and held her close. After he released her he said, clasping his hands on her shoulders. "They're not going to know what hit 'em." His face relaxed into a reassuring smile. His eyes were warm and encouraging.
The smile made the corners of his eyes wrinkle just a little, and it was something she'd never seen before. Or maybe she'd never seen him smile big enough for it to happen. It was an adorable feature she felt privileged to witness.
Shelby wanted to sit in this moment for the rest of the day.
"Thank you." She said and pulled herself the rest of the way into the car.
The garage door rolled open and the heat radiated off the sands into the covered space. Mercedes and Ferra helped Shelby guide the car out and the staff hurriedly closed the door behind them, trying to preserve any air conditioning from escaping.
Nacho stood a little ways behind, walking after them with his head on a swivel, as if watching for any trouble to reappear
The Andretti Racing Team was positioned in the back of the starting position. There were at least seventy spaces for racers and more than half had been filled by their eager drivers.
Idle rumblings from the herd of engines sounded like thunder of an approaching storm.
Some drivers were talking with their crew, others alone and focused as they stood like statues beside their car.
A few of the drivers were talking to each other, exchanging words with the competitor next to them.
"Okay, good luck." Mercedes dispassionately said and started to walk back. Eager to get off the track and out of the glaring sun.
Ferra lightly slapped Shelby's cheeks with each hand then held her face firmly. "You're gonna fucking kill it out there."
"Jeez." Shelby pulled away and shook her head, watching her sister walk away.
Nacho's mouth turned up at the corner. "But you are. And we'll be with you the whole way." He squeezed her hand, then left to join her sisters in the pit line.
Shelby readied herself behind the wheel. The cold of her suit barely cut the edge off the sweltering heat coming at her from every angle.
Scorching waves reverberated from the blasting sun across the flat desert. Making the visibility of the far distance warble and reflect across the salt flats. Broiling heat from the engine of the car made her feet and legs instantly sweaty. And the roasted fumes from the cars to her right and left made the air she breathed feel like choking down a chimney pipe.
A yellow ready flag waved and the fifty cars exploded to life.
Shelby turned up the dials, fuel burning and pistons thumping up and down until the sound became one blended roar. Taking the engine from idling, to a place that could only be described as a mad dog held back by a shoestring tether.
The sound of the engines, bracing for stampede rolled across the flats like a tsunami and up to the stands. Passionate cheers and wailing from the crowd joined in the wall of sound and a desert space that once felt so dead had been brought back to life through electric shock.
As the field of racecars waited at their starting positions, the blasting heat from the engines roasted the air around them and charred the ground below.
Shelby wiggled her toes inside her boot as it rested against the gas, ready for the hair trigger notice to speed off and leave only a cloud of dust behind.
The yellow flag stopped and her eyes went up to the large light beacon.
Poised and ready to jump, each racer was glued onto the green dot waiting for it to light.
Shelby took several deep breaths in and out, steadying her grip on the controls. The world melted away, heat had burned away her nerves and left only cold calculation behind.
Three loud tones sounded over the sound system before the green light flashed.
A surge of energy slammed through her body like lightning and she crushed the car into gear.