At the threshold of death, the old adage of seeing life flash before the eyes of the doomed became reality for the driver of the blood-red Chevrolet. If not his entire life, then at least the past couple of month's that witnessed events that had already altered the course of his destiny. As oil smoke and fuel residue filled his lungs, the driver closed his eyes as surely this must be his end. Open your eyes! His mind screamed furiously. Get up on that wheel! Or was it his crew chief? His father? The concrete walls of the monster rose to meet his car in a cacophony of screeching brakes and crushing metal.
He did open his eyes-just in time to see the world cease it's spinning and the black and yellow hood of Matt Kenseth's Dodge bearing down on him. After that, Michael Patrick Waltrip lost all consciousness to the outside world except for the images of the near past that played like a newsreel in his mind......
****************************
"......I don't give a goddamn if he is still sleepin'! I wanna that boy's ass down here NOW!" roared Junior as he stood in the Waltrip's kitchen while his stunned host stared dazed. It was early-7o'clock- but Junior was livid and obviously whatever Mick did to upset him had been festering overnight.
"Dale-sssshhhhh...Michael's still sleepin' too. Come now, June." Rory said quietly, trying to calm her agitated guest. They both looked up at the sound of Michael thumping groggily down the stairs; eyes bloodshot, beard rough and a faded Woods Brothers Racing robe (now comically faded from orange to pink) tied loosely about him. A look of utter bemusement, as if he were somehow sleepwalking, settled on his countenance. "Huh......wha' yas doin' up soooearly?" he drawled sleepily around a yawn. "Wha' areya yellin' `bout?"
"Good mornin', grampa!" Junior growled sarcastically. Like deer caught in a Peterbuilt's headlights, it took a moment for that remark to sink in. (after all, neither Michael or Rory had their sufficient intake of caffeine yet as was needed to grasp such an implication!)
"Oh Jaysus.....I`m gonna kill `im! " Rory muttered as she turned and headed upstairs to retrieve the guest of honor (who was still blissfully unaware of the goings-on below) while Michael continued to stare slack-jawed. Seeing the stunned look on his old friend's face and suddenly feeling badly about his early morning rampage, Junior slowly sank into the chair beside Michael, and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry Michael...I shouldn't have gone off like that..." he muttered. "It's just that Taylor has so much ahead of her....so much she wanted to do....."
Michael shook his head as if he didn't hear a word. "Grampa...? I'm too young to be a grampa.....!"
************
The warm cocoon he had surrounded himself with was suddenly replaced by the chill of the morning as Rory yanked the quilt away. "Up with ya now, Mickey! Yer Uncle June wants to kill ya!"
"Ach...Mum...lemme alone...." Mick pulled himself into a fetal position in a vain attempt to keep warm. A sharp slap to the head told him that something serious indeed was afoot. Slowly, he pulled himself up; surprised to find his usually calm mother glaring furiously at him. What the hell did I do now.....? He idly wondered and searched his mind for whatever heinous deeds he might have done to invoke the wrath of his mother and Junior.
As if reading his mind, Rory snapped, "Well now...this is just grand. You just get your driving career back on track an' now this. Mick-how could you be so careless!? And Taylor-you know she still has two more years of school-"
"WHAT?!.....What the hell have I done?" Mick yelled, now fully awake and not at all liking where this line of conversation was heading. "I haven't even seen Taylor in half a month!" Indeed, he thought glumly. She always seemed to be avoiding him lately. Hardly returning a call or even showing up at the track. Always with her studies it seemed...or Teresa's social activities. Blessedly, most of his time had been tied up at the shop or the track under Junior's strict mentoring. Failing reflexes and the glory of going out on top had made Daytona Michael's last race and Junior had since moved into Napa Chevy and taking his long anticipated seat at the helm of his father's car. This left Junior's old ride open and Budweiser was more than happy to keep the ride in the family, so to speak.
"Well now...Junior just dropped by to congratulate Michael on bein' a grampa! I think you can figure it out."
"Taylor....ogod mum...Tay's pregnant?" Mick suddenly felt like crying.
"Aye...would appear so." Rory replied gruffly. She sighed and sat down beside her son. She knew she should be overjoyed at the prospect of her first grandchild but felt it was just too soon. Both Taylor and Mick had so much they wanted to accomplish and Mick at the moment was in no position to start a family. But done is done and now they had to make the best of it. Gently pulling him close, as he fell into her lap now openly crying, she gazed at the old pictures and newsclippings he pasted covered the walls with.
"That's why she won't talk to me..."
"She's just scared...go on, call her now. All women go through this. I was terrified to break the news to your father when I was carryin' Caitlin. I was afraid he'd leave me...."
Mick sat up, "Dad would never do that." He reached for his cell phone on the end table beside the bed, "I'll call her...go out an' meet her for breakfast. I gotta see her an' tell her I'm gonna be there for her."
"An' I'll take care of Junior-he's pissed to be sure. You're taking away his baby sister-he's just being protective in his own psychotic way......"
*********************
His mother's voice faded to a distant echo as blood rushed in his ears only to be replaced by the wail of a siren.....images continued to flicker against his mind's eye. Voices drifted in and out...some he recognized, some were strangers.... Mick....! Hold on, boy....can you hear me, kid....? Dear God, please hold on...
********************
Mick looked up over his menu at Taylor as she stared as rain pelted the window at the Busy Bee Diner and Truckstop. Tractor trailers of various makes and sizes lumbered in and out of the muddy lot for all the world like a pack of dinosaurs. Neither spoke much; both wrapped up in unspoken thoughts. Finally, Mick couldn't stand the silence anymore.
"Look, Tay. You're my fiance, fer Chrissake. Why didn't you tell me? I can't believe you told Dale first..." She looked up at the hurt in his eyes and reached out for his hand.
"I didn't want to tell anybody at first, Mick. I needed to sort this out in my own mind first. Junior found the pregnancy test box in the trash...guess I wasn't very smart about disposing of that thing......he just sorta went a little ballistic...."
"Tay...don't you trust me? Did you think I'd leave you?....I'd never dream of leaving you....you know that!"
Taylor sighed as her gazed turned to the window again. "It's not you, Mick. I'd trust you with my life." She sighed deeply, "It's me that I'm not so sure about...."
"It's gonna be ok-we'll get through this alright. We'll be married next month and everything's gonna be ok.." Mick said with optimistic finality. Somehow, in his heart, he had a feeling of dread that things weren't ok at all. "Tay...c'mon...look at me, baby...please? Please say something!"
"I'm sorry Mick.....right now I just don't think I can handle this....I just need a little time to myself. " She rose from the table. "Please try to understand...." With that, she walked out the door leaving only the sounds of the trucks, the diner and a breaking heart......
*************************************
As the Budweiser Chevy swung low near the apron, challenging Kurt Busch for the lead at Michigan Speedway, the crowd rose to it's feet. Final lap and the checkered flag waved as Mick pushed his car to the wire. The monkey that had been perched on his shoulder was gone; the critics who said he had no place driving at this level were silenced...well at least for now. The Irish rebel, driver #8, son of Mikey, was indeed a force to be reckoned with. As he saluted the crowd in a Polish victory lap, he thought perhaps things were finally beginning to look up again......his first cup victory and a rookie to boot..... "Mick! Mick!" someone was shouting as he wheeled the car to Victory Lane. It was Taylor-there she was! Waiting for him....
....Suddenly it wasn't Michigan anymore. He was now at Dover. Skies leaden as showers from a departing hurricane threatened. The first drops of rain splattered against his windshield.
The green flag fell and for the first five laps or so, the drivers raced as if on thin ice. As Mick came up through the still tightly bunched pack, the skies suddenly opened. Treadless tires began hydroplaning as drivers, now blinded by a sheets of rain, slammed into each other. It only took a few seconds but in the end, twenty cars lay strewn in a smoking heap....one driver a moment from eternity......
***********************************
Chapter 11
The small, private room was quiet-save for the television with the volume turned low and the faint sound of hospital activity outside the door. The big man sat silently next to the sleeping form in the bed; head in his hands as a million memories haunted him. It had been a little more than a week since Dover but it felt more like years had passed by. Michael hated hospitals with a passion eclipsed only by his love of racing. Mick had been lucky this time- a few cracked ribs, a concussion and a busted left foot-not bad for his first "big one". Still, just seeing his only son being cut out of his car, being flown straight to the hospital, had put a few years on Michael. Though his injuries were not life-threatening, it was enough to keep him out of the car for the rest of the season. Not that it really mattered-there were only eight more races to go anyway and Mick was far out of the running for the championship.
The whole situation now left DEI in something of a quandary-Michael had officially retired and left the Napa ride to Junior. Now the Budweiser Chevy was without a pilot and that venerable sponsor was none-too-happy about the prospect of a replacement driver. At the moment though, Michael's main concern was his son-anybody else had to wait in line-including Junior. The latest scuttlebutt on Jayski's was the red-hot rumor that Budweiser was shopping around after all these years-which if true, would be financially devastating to DEI. Mick stirred and moaned softly as Michael gently pushed the thick, curly mass of black hair out of his face. "Shhh...it's ok, go back to sleep..." he whispered.
"Hey..." As if his worries became flesh and blood, Michael looked up in the direction of the door as Junior quietly entered the room. "How's he doin'?"
"Ate lunch a little while ago and went right back to sleep. Pain medication they got him hopped up on knocks him right out." Michael shrugged and grinned, "He's gonna be alright-all those scans came back negative. His head's harder than mine!" His smile faded when Junior continued to gaze impassively back at him. "What?" Michael asked, not without a bit of an edge to his voice. He knew that stony, cold look all too well; Junior was here on business. His words confirmed Michael's suspicions.
"So when can we get him back in the car?"
"He'll be good to go by the time Daytona rolls around-"
Junior shook his head, "That's not good enough. Budweiser wants him to finish the season."
"You've got to be kidding! He's only a replacement for the season! You can't be serious, Dale."
Junior leaned close, "Listen Mike-if we don't keep that car out there, I'm taking a big hit in owner's points. Hell-we can put an air cast on that foot-he can still use the clutch. He brakes with his right foot anyway...and you said it yourself that his concussion was mild. All he needs is the doctor's clearance and Nascar's ok to get back in the car. It all comes down to this: it's late in the season and there's nobody out there who's capable of putting that car where I want it."
"I know where I'd like to put it!" Michael snarled quietly, rising above Junior. "He's not going back out there until next year."
"Come on, man-Daddy was out there drivin' with a busted sternum for chrissake and he won the fuckin' championship! Stop coddlin' him!"
"Listen to yourself-I can't believe you're putting owner points above Mick."
"Two races-that's all I ask. Phoenix and Homestead-he's good on those flat tracks." Michael continued to glare furiously at him. "Mike-he'll be ok, I'll take care of him out there."
"No." Michael chose his next words with care, "I'll get back in the Napa car-you can drive the 8. I want to see Mick back out there just as much as you do but I won't sacrifice him. Not for DEI, not for Budweiser, not for you. If you can't agree to that, then get out."
"I think we should leave this up to Mick himself." Junior said quietly as he turned to leave. "In the end, it's his decision-not yours. You've had to have the last word, Michael-no matter what it costs the team or the company."
"It's not about me, goddammit! What the hell is wrong with you?" Michael's voice was now a low growl; eyes flashing like blue lightning.
Exasperated, Junior flung his hands in the air, "Listen-y'all are givin' me a fuckin' headache. I'll drop by tomorrow when he's awake and then we'll talk-" He never finished the sentence, halting abruptly in mid-speech. Suddenly all color drained from his face as he braced one hand against the doorway, wavering slightly. He looked frantically at Michael, who was already by his side. "Dale...?" Junior's knees started to buckle as Michael wrapped his arms around him, trying to support him.
Michael closed his eyes in prayer as he sounded an alarm to the nurse's station. He looked out the window through the tears at the setting sun outside. "Please God...don't take him now...." he whispered. On an adjacent rooftop of a parking garage, a stately raven cried as if in unison.
*****************************
"We'll have to eat on the way to the hospital tonight." Rory announced as she filled the bowls that belonged to the army of housecats that swirled about her ankles in a furry, purring, yowling mass. "Get off the table, ya brute!" She yelled, swatting the big marmalade tabby that was poised to pounce on her shoulder. Rory had just returned from the shop, exhausted as she was now practically fielding both the 15 and 8 teams. She looked up at the mound of school books Macy had deposited on the kitchen table. "We'll be up there awhile-ya might want to bring some o' that with yas."
"I'm almost done but I've got to write this report on immigration for history. I'm supposed to interview somebody from another country." Brows furrowed and freckled nose scrunched in thought, she was still her father's baby. "Do we know anybody from another country?"
"Where d'ya think I came from-Mars??" Rory snorted. "C'mon...yas can interview me on the way."
"Oh yeah! I forgot!" Macy grinned as she pulled her ponytail through her battered Napa hat. Rory had been such a part of her life, it seemed like she had been around forever. Well...at times it certainly felt like that, Rory thought as she glanced at the clock. Funny...Michael hadn't called back yet to let her know how Mick was....
As if in response to her thoughts, the phone shrilled from it's perch on the wall. For some strange reason, she involuntarily jumped at the sound. Taking a deep breath to compose herself and chiding herself for being so jumpy, she tentatively picked up the receiver. ""Lo?" Macy started as she heard a gasp and an "odearGod"....this couldn't be good.....
************************************
It was nearly dusk when Rory's ancient blue pickup pulled up in front of the Statesville Animal Clinic. Caitlin was just finishing up her shift as she looked out the window. She loved working with animals; helping them and healing them. This was her sanctuary. She lovingly scratched the aging head of Endy, the big German Shepherd that belonged to Kevin Harvick, in for displaysia treatment and a possible hip replacement. He whimpered, thumping the fat bush of his tail and gazed upward with lucent brown eyes as if to say, "you are the source of all that is good."
"Here ya go, old man" Caitlin grinned as the big dog devoured the meatball that contained his anti-inflamatory medication. "Happy will take ya home soon." She looked up at the sound of the door swinging open. "Oh hey Mum...didn't realize it was getting so late." She slipped out of her lab coat and into an old brown bomber jacket. "Hey Mace, how's that report coming?"
Macy was busy entertaining Endy and a three-legged Labrador. "Uhm...I was thinking of interviewing Auntie Ro but...." Rory stood by, somewhat preoccupied, absently scratching the dog's head. She looked, in a word, defeated.
"Mum-is everything ok?....Please tell me it's not Mick...he's ok, isn't he?" Caitlin whispered, a sacred fear for her brother creeping into her voice. There had always been a very deep bond betwen them and the past couple of weeks had been difficult to say the least.
"He's fine as he can be. It's Junior." She sat down, still reeling from her conversation with Michael. "They admitted him this afternoon. Apparently he's been complainin' about headaches for some time now but as usual, he wouldn't tell anybody. He and Michael had words earlier-Junior's hellbent on thinkin' Mick would be ready to drive the rest of the season and your father's dead-set against it, as I am."
"Damn him!" Caitlin hissed.
"Shhhhh now, he's not in his right mind." Rory admonished. Sighing and shaking her head, she whispered, "They took to arguin' over Mick when Junior collapsed. The worst of it, the doctors think there may be a tumor. Or it could be that concussion he got when he flipped at Indy this summer. He's supposed to be undergoing scans and whatnot tonight-if they can make him stay. Michael's afraid once he comes to, he'll be out of there."
"Does Steve know?"
Rory shook her head, "Can't get ahold of him or Teresa. Michael's already called Brenda and Kelley. Poor Steve...if it weren't for us, he'd have no allies. I left a message, as I'm sure Michael's already done-I'll try again later if he doesn't show up." Glancing at her watch, she fished her keys out of her pocket, "Well now-we best be off to the hospital. Visiting hours are only till nine tonight-we'll be lucky if we see Junior for five minutes."
"What will happen if Junior can't drive anymore? Who's going to anchor the team?" Macy wondered from the backseat as they sped on their way.
"Well Brendan's not going anywhere. Possibly Shane or Martin for the rest of the year. The question is, will we be able to keep our sponsors-without Junior or Michael, we could be in trouble." Rory mused grimly. "At this rate, we might have to put ol' DW back in a car just to pay the bills!"
***********************************
"This is bullshit! I ain't stayin' here! There's not a goddamn thing wrong with me!" Junior hollered.
"June, dammit! Just listen to me-you passed out! This could be serious, bud." Michael gently put a restraining hand on Junior's shoulder as he fought to rise from his bed. "Take it easy, it won't hurt to run a few tests-maybe they missed something from the last time you wrecked. You could have a blood clot in that miniscule pimple you call a brain...." He recognized the fear and concern in Michael's tired eyes as his words sunk in.
"Mikey...what am I gonna do if I can't drive anymore? I couldn't stand it...this is all I know." He sounded more like a frightened child than the two-time champion driver he was. Michael wearily sat beside him with a sigh. "This shit scares the hell outta me, Mike."
"I know...but it's gonna be ok. Just try to relax and get some sleep." He glanced over at Mick, who was back to snoring away. "Mikey....?"
"Yeah, June..."
"Did you call Steve?"
"Yeah..but I couldn't get ahold of him...I think he's testing today. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he gets my message."
"That's ok....just don't leave me-please?"
Their eyes met and old memories of a long-ago confession of feelings long buried for the best came flooding back to Junior as he reached for Michael's hand. He half expected Michael to pull away but was rewarded by his old friend's embrace. The pain of their recent argument lifted like morning fog to the sun. "I'm so scared Mike..."
"Don't be...we'll get through this together, we'll fight it together just like we've always done. I'll be right here with you, Junebug." He fought the lump in his throat as Junior settled back on the pillows, already drifting off.
12
Mick stared at the hospital ceiling above him; mindlessly studying the dots in the plaster board panels. Empty and blank-that's just how he felt inside. His life had suddenly gone from full of promise to absolute shit in the course of a year. What was to become of him? Of all of us, for that matter, he thought glumly. There was a Viagra calendar-ironically it featured a smiling Kurt Busch on the cover-"Drive hard with Viagra!"-hanging on the wall next to his bed. In less than a month, he was supposed to be married. God, how did things get so fucked up with her? Taylor was his world-just as she always had been since he first laid eyes on her photograph in what seemed to be a hundred years ago. He had always thought they were meant to be together forever-now he wasn't so sure anymore. The baby-it had all seemed like a distant dream now-how could she not want to start a family with him? Perhaps in his quest to make a name for himself on the track, he just might have missed some warning sign. Some small indication that he wasn't the center of Taylor's universe after all.
His quest for on-track glory. It all seemed like a cruel joke now. He was finished as far as this year was concerned. Perhaps for good-the in-fighting with Kyle, on track confrontations, the accident that left a top level team now driverless. He thought of his father and all the high hopes he had for Mick. For it was his turn to carry on Dale Earnhardt's dream-the man who never gave up hope on his mother during those black days she spent in Longkesh prison. The man who gave his father one last shot for glory behind the wheel. It was too much to bear; a hard lump formed in his throat and he fought back the bitter tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Angrily, he wiped his fist against his eyes. Why, God?? Why are you doing this to me? His mind raged on unanswered.
Time. What was happening to time? Michael had always told him to be patient-"You've got all the time in the world!" But now it seemed like he was running out of time. He had an ill feeling that his world was about to slip out from under his feet. Just being in the hospital and under sedation of pain killers completely through his whole concept of time out of whack. His accident-how long ago had it been? A week? A month gone? How soon could he get back in a car? Though nothing was said directly to him, he had this feeling that he needed to return to the Budweiser Chevy as soon as possible-with or without the blessing of the doctors or even his father.
So deep in thought, he failed to notice the door open. "Hey boy." Darrell grinned as he lowered the bed rail and sat gingerly on the edge. Slate blue eyes twinkling, the old beloved visage was like the sun breaking through a bank of dark clouds. "How long they gonna keep ya cooped up here?"
"Hey Uncle D…" Mick returned the other's smile but his eyes couldn't belie the sadness in his heart. Darrell studied his nephew's face; so much like that of his brother. "You look like you've been saddled with all the weight in the world, boy."
"I've disappointed everybody who believed in me. If I don't get back in that car soon, they might loose Budweiser and it's all my fault. I just don't know what to do anymore…"
Darrell's eyes flashed, "Stop sayin' that…sound just like yer Daddy. He was always taking the blame-even when it wasn't his fault. If DEI looses Budweiser-so what? They'll get somebody else! Life goes on, Mickey. Things get bad but you come from a long line of survivors. Just take one thing at a time…step back a little and re-group." He fished in his pocket and pulled out a dog-eared piece of paper and handed it to Mick.
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can and cannot change …and the wisdom to know the difference."
Mick looked up at his uncle, "Mom used to have this taped up in her office-she had that ever since we came back from Ireland."
"I know and I think it's high time it was passed on to you. I ain't saying it's gonna be easy but if you eliminate the things that you can't do a damned thing about and concentrate on just the stuff you can fix, it might all might work out in the end. You'll see…just eat what's on your own plate, boy. That's all ya gotta do."
"What about Taylor?" Mick whispered, his face dark with worry.
Darrell sighed, "That deal's in her hands, Mickey. I pray that things work out for you two but face it, wouldn't be fair to her to put her in a situation she isn't ready for. We just gotta give her time."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"Now that was a goddamn waste of time." Junior growled as he sat beside Michael on their way back to Mooresville.
"No it wasn't." Michael shook his head as he steered his pickup into the driveway. "Considering that you're gonna be carrying the company next year, I'd like to know why you blacked out like that. It might be a few more days before they get all the results back but we gotta have `em if you want your physical clearance in time for Daytona."
Junior grunted and swung out of the cab. The two walked in silence as they entered the hall down to the great room. Both men lost in thought. Junior cast a sidelong glance at Michael, who was engrossed in looking at some old pictures on the wall. He couldn't help it, old feelings for Michael had been reawakened; there was no way he could deny it.
Did he even know what Michael felt? Did he feel anything other than their deep friendship? After all, that one magic night happened so long ago… And then there was Steve. He cared deeply for Steve-yes, even loved him on some level but not the way he loved Michael. It was only one night, but one night worth more than all the encounters and all of the lovers he had before or since. How he wanted to hold Michael's long, powerful body against his, to feel his warmth. Impulsively, he stole up behind Michael and wrapped his arms around him; resting his head against Michael's shoulders. He briefly felt Michael's frame tense up but slowly relaxed as he settled against Junior's chest.
"We can't do this, Jun…." Michael whispered hoarsely. He immediately thought of Rory and Steve, yet his body betrayed him as it responded to Junior's gentle touch. The raw feelings radiating from Junior ignited something that Michael had long since buried. He uttered a low moan as Junior nuzzled his neck, planting soft kisses and gentle nips. Long fingers traveled up beneath Michael's shirt; drifting over his sinewy torso. Reluctantly, he pulled away and the moment he turned as saw the pain and longing in Junior's eyes, he pulled the younger man into his embrace. Junior reached up and pulled Michael's head down to meet his lips hungrily. As his tongue sought entrance to Michael's mouth, he thrust his hips tightly against Michael. He was rewarded with the delicious sensation of Michael's heat pressing against his.
"C'mon…" Junior whispered, gently pulling Michael towards the master bedroom. Michael wordless nodded, no longer able to think clearly. Within moments, Junior was beside himself in ecstasy as he covered Michael's naked body with his own. Gently kissing, licking and sucking every inch of Michael's body, tenderly exploring every detail of his lover. Michael lost all conscious knowledge of the outside world as he played out every secret fantasy that resided in the dark recesses of his mind. I'll deal with the world later, his mind rationed. Tomorrow's another day….
Junior rolled off him, pulling Michael on top. He grinned up mischievously as he roughly fondled Michael's manhood. He studied the lines in Michael's face; etched by life's trials. No matter how many lines or how his once ebony hair was now shot through with grey, he was still beautiful in Junior's eyes. Reaching over to the nightstand beside the bed, he pulled out a small vial of lube and began massaging Michael's length with it. He loved the reaction he got as Michael shuddered, moaning loudly.
"Damn…almost forgot you were hung like a goddamn horse. Should've got that industrial size bucket of KY…" Junior snickered. "I ain't gonna sit for a week!"
Michael stifled a guffaw as he collapsed on Junior, giggling like a kid. Junior gleefully wrapped his legs around Michael's waist. Smothering Junior's mouth with his, he growled low, "How could you forget something like this?" He thrust his hips forward, lifting Junior off the bed slightly and slid effortlessly into him.
Junior uttered a muffled yelp, "Oh shit, Mike!" The brief flash of pain was quickly replaced by the amazing sensation of being completely filled.
Michael paused, "Gonna be ok?" he whispered.
"Yeah…oh yeah....don't you dare stop now…ofuck…"
Their two bodies writhed together in a symphony of passion. Junior cast a glance at the images in the full-size mirror need the bedroom door. This was all he ever wanted.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Meanwhile, Taylor glanced over an assortment of "get well" cards over in the Hallmark store. She had already picked up an arrangement of yellow roses and some Cherry Garcia ice cream, knowing how much Mick loved the stuff. Her heart and mind were currently waging a war inside her. She looked up at a frumpy, harried mother corralling a herd of unruly toddlers and shuddered as the brood exited towards the beige mini-van outside. Oh no, I can't do this! This isn't me! I don't even like kids! I'm not ready for this!
"Hey you." Came a voice behind her. Taylor looked up and smiled in spite of herself.
"Hey Shrub."
Kyle Busch was also picking up some gift trinkets at the store for his mother. Taylor was simply happy for the distraction from the turmoil inside her.
"Stop calling me Shrub."
"You're always gonna be the Shrub, so deal with it."
Kyle laughed and gave her a friendly hug. He was amazed at the ferocity behind Taylor's answering embrace. Something was wrong, he could sense it. "Now that we've got the opening pleasantries over, is everything ok?"
"Oh just peachy-keen, Jellybean." Taylor responded, not without a hint of sarcasm. "Sorry Kyle, but things are really, really fucked up right now…" her voice suddenly broke. Kyle pulled her into his arms again as the tears started. "I'm not ready for this family business –I'm supposed to be getting married in a month and I'm dreading it now…it feels like a prison sentence-this is supposed to be the happiest moment in my life but why do I feel like it's crushing the life out of me?" she sobbed.
"Whoa…slow down...maybe we ought to go somewhere and talk about this? C'mon-we can go to that little coffee shop around the corner. Nice `n' quiet, y'know..?" Kyle didn't miss the curious stares from the other patrons and he knew that whatever was troubling Taylor would best be said in a less public environment.
Taylor nodded. "Yeah..sounds good. Lemme check this stuff out."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
An hour later in the dark bohemian gloom of the coffee shop; the ice cream long since melted, Kyle said not a word but let Taylor pour her heart out. Part of him felt guilty, knowing how much Mick loved her but he also cared a great deal for her.
"You don't have to keep this baby, Taylor. If this is upsetting you so much-hey, you said it yourself that you are not ready for motherhood just yet-maybe you should consider …uhm…you know…uhm… doing away with it…." He stammered at this last bit-this was probably the biggest decision in Taylor's life and he didn't want to be the one to screw it up for her.
"Kyle…I just don't know what to do. I don't know…just don't know. No, I'm not into this motherhood business. I feel like I'm this awful, selfish bitch but how fair would it be to Mick and the baby if I'm not into this 100 percent? It's not that I don't love Mick-I do-but things just happened so quickly now…I don't even want to get into what Mick's family would think about the concept of …of abortion." There. She said it.
Kyle swallowed, "Maybe you should just get out of town for a little while. Let's go to New York-remember I'm 5th in points right now and you know I'm going to the banquet. If need be, we could have it done up there-you'll have time to think it over and then come home. Just tell `em you lost it or something….I dunno…just giving you some food for thought…." He finished lamely.
"One problem there-we're supposed to be married come Halloween. I suppose in light of everything, we could always push the date back…" I can't believe I'm even contemplating this! Taylor thought, now thoroughly disgusted with herself for even entertaining the idea.
"Taylor-it's still your body. You could have all the kids you want later-right now, just concentrate on your own happiness. He doesn't own you. DEI doesn't own you. To hell with what they think."
"Hey Busch! I thought that was your car out front." It was Johnny Sauter. Taylor struggled to hide her revulsion of the pugnacious driver. "Taylor." She nodded in acknowledgement.
"Say Kyle…I got something I gotta show you later..think you'll be quite interested." He grinned slickly. "Found it in my new office- the old one that Ty Norris used to have." Sauter drove for Ty's Omega racing stable now.
Kyle furrowed his brows, "Why would I be interested in something of his? C'mon Sauter, let me see it." He indicated the faded yellow envelope that Sauter held.
"Uhm..later. Can't right now." If you get my drift, Sauter briefly glanced in Taylor's direction. Taylor did not miss the motion and rose to leave.
"Thanks Kyle for listening to me. I gotta run-I'll call ya, Ok?" With that, she headed out into the bright sunlight.
Kyle glared at the interloper, "Ok shithead, thanks for fucking up things up. This had better be good…"he growled.
"Oh it's better than good…" Sauter smiled. Kyle felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at the malicious gleam in Sauter's eyes.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Chapter 13
The hustle and bustle of the morning slowly slipped into late afternoon; the slanted, late-autumn sunlight fading into long, blue shadows. The smell of wood smoke drifted lazily in the crisp air as Rory sat on the back porch absently drinking a cup of coffee while she poured over her notes for the last few races of the season. It would be nice if Nascar finished the season at Daytona as they had been thinking of changing the schedule for years but had never gotten around to doing it. It would be easier for a team that had benchmarked the fine art of restrictor-plate racing. Begin and end the series with a top-five finish, that would be nice, she mused as she watched Caitlin chase her old mare through the barn gate. Glancing at her watch, she didn't realize how late it was getting. Macy, who had been tatting away on her thesis, looked up at her quizzically.
"Dad's late-is he at the shop?" It wasn't unusual but given tonight's dish was his favorite (chicken and biscuits), he usually made a point to be home for it.
"He's probably still at Junior's" she shrugged, "They're probably both pie-eyed by now." Still, it was a little strange, Michael usually didn't "hang" with Junior for hours on end-hadn't really done so in years. Ah well, after Junior's blackout, the two were no doubt in some deep conversation. Re-affirming the sacred bond of friendship the two shared. Bonding. Something about the word suddenly jolted her. She thought back to a couple of days ago when she caught Junior gazing at Michael with a sad sort of longing clouding his sharp, crystal blue eyes. Rory was very much aware of the depth of Junior's affection for Michael but thought Steve had since taken that special place in Junior's heart long ago. Stranger still, by right she should be blowing a gasket even contemplating any bit of infidelity on her husband's part but somehow this was different.
Her mind went back to that evening when Junior won his first Daytona 500 after a heated duel to the wire with Michael. A dinner for just the three of them, a little flirting and perhaps too much wine. An evening they would never forget full of raw passion and new discoveries and to this very day, the erotic images still sent a shiver down her spine. Junior was so much an integral part of their life-closer than a blood relative. The love she shared with Michael still burned as fiercely as when they first met over 20 years ago, thus she didn't feel that nagging doubt and suspicion associated with an illicit affair. The image of her old Mikey and Junior snuggled up together like a pair of old tomcats actually amused her and she stifled a giggle in spite of herself.
"You old fool….." she whispered, eyes sparkling.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Michael gazed at their reflections in the mirror; his mind also on that amazing evening in Daytona. Junior lay peacefully sprawled beside him, resting his head against Michael's chest. They both knew that Michael had to leave but neither wanted to breach the subject. He tenderly traced the old scars-reminders from that near- fatal wreck at Talladega-and shuddered inwardly at the memory the scars conjured up. He was instantly reminded of yet another wreck; a Busch race at Darlington and Steve. What about Steve? He couldn't-wouldn't break his heart again. But the heat of Michael's naked body beside him closed the door on worrying about the consequences right now.
Junior started to set up but Michael's embrace pulled him back to the shelter of his arms again. The memory of being taken hard by Junior as he made love to Rory aroused him and Michael gazed at his lover with fire in his eyes. Wrapping his long limbs around Junior, tender kisses turning to nipping at Junior's throat and shoulders.
"Uhm..Mike…maybe we ought to call it a day…getting' late, bro…yer ol' lady's gonna be pitchin' a fit…" Junior murmured as Michael's full lips crushed his.
"Can't......I need you…" Michael's voice whispered huskily.
Junior managed to slide off the bed, pulling Michael with him. "Shower?" He grinned, "Don't want her to think we were up to no good…." Michael eagerly followed him into the shower stall.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Much, much later that evening, Michael lay in his own bed; his head in Rory's lap as she gently massaged his temples. He didn't know how she knew, but she knew. Perhaps it was his face still flushed from this afternoon's amorous hi-jinks. The after-glow of passion. The purple welts on his throat. What was even more confusing and unsettling was the fact that she wasn't reaching for a shotgun and a divorce lawyer.
"I'm tryin' to make sense of this Michael…that's all." She sighed. "I'm not angry at you…although I'm more concerned for Sparky. He's completely out of the loop on this. And he always was a wee bit jealous of how close you and Junie were." She gently took his face in her hands, "So now, what are we going to do?"
"Ro, I'd die before I'd ever hurt you or the kids…I'm so ashamed of myself right now…" Michael whispered, tears stinging his eyes.
"Junior loves you as much as I do and in every aspect of love… there's nothing to be ashamed of there. He's the one with the cross to bear now in regards to his relationship to Steve. That's something he's going to have to make a decision on. It's not fair to Steve to be led on."
"But what about us? Can you honestly tell me you're not repulsed by what I've done? I don't know why I did this.....it..it..just-" he broke off, not even sure what to say anymore while Rory quietly listened. "Fuck. I don't even know what I'm talking about…"
"It just felt good." She finished. "Pure and simple, Mikey…it just felt good." She kissed his lips and brushed the tear from the corner of his eye. "Now…." She whispered, stroking him, "Can you make me feel good too?"
Their eyes met and Michael was reminded once again why he loved this tiny, fragile creature in the first place.
"Oh baby, I'm gonna make you feel better than just good…" he growled. "I just ain't gonna be worth two cents tomorrow after all this fuckin'…"
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Kyle Busch pulled the disc out of his computer and turned the monitor off. Still staring at the blank screen, the images on it were burned into his mind. Why had Sauter given him this? This was wrong! So very, very wrong…. An old surveillance film depicting a bedroom scene and three unknowing participants in a strange and darkly twisted power play. He had heard a rumor years ago how Ty Norris had blackmailed Junior into forcing Michael into retirement and how his mis-management had almost destroyed DEI. He thought the rumors were only the by-product of the internet chat rooms and message boards haunted by the conspiracy fiends.
Sauter had told him that this disc could come in handy some day. It was no secret that Junior was gay and it was quietly tolerated. But what Sauter had planned to do was showcase this disc in a manner that would as harmful as possible to DEI. A film of Junior screwing both his teammate and crew chief would viewed as quite unsavory by the sponsors and anyone else on Sauter's list.
And why did he want to do this? Not for money but vindication. Sauter was an angry, bitter soul. He fed off the misery of others. Why he enlisted Kyle's company was beyond his comprehension to contemplate. Kyle was aghast at the notion of showing this thing to Taylor in hopes of turning her against Mick.
Angrily, Kyle flung the disc into the rubbish bin by his desk. If I'm going to win her heart, I'm going to do it honorably, he thought.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Steve pulled into the driveway after a long two days at a sponsor's appearance function. Grinning broadly, he wrapped Junior in his arms in a deep bear-hug.
"Awwe man! Am I glad to be home! I felt so awful about not being able to pick you up at the hospital…"
Junior sighed, not quite able to look Steve in the eyes, "Uhm…that's ok…uh…Mikey brought me home…"
Steve shrugged and grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Oh…how's he doin' anyway? How's Mick doin'?"
"He might be home in a couple days…had a busted foot and a concussion…he'll live…hopefully, we'll get him in for the last couple of races." Again, Junior looked absently out the window, at the TV, at the wall-anything but Steve.
Steve frowned, "Jun…you ok? I mean, did the scans turn up anything about that blackout?" Why was he avoiding him? Something wasn't right…..
"Yeah…might hear about the final results tomorrow or the next…" Junior shrugged. Steve looked at him closely.
Gently embracing Junior, Steve didn't miss the slight hesitation on Junior's part. As if all of a sudden, Junior would rather be somewhere else ….
….or be with someone else, Steve thought grimly.
Chapter 14
As the days grew shorter and All Hallow's Eve drew nigh, like a witch's Coven the women of Dale Earnhardt Inc. convened upon the palatial ranch house for an impromptu nuptial shower for Taylor. The guest of honor graciously accepted her gifts, the well-wishes of the hosts and resigned herself to the inevitable course her life seemed to be taking with the air of the condemned upon a journey from whence there was no return. Not that she was dreading the journey per se as she still adored her paramour but still wondering if this was all there was left to life. It seemed so final this marriage business. It seemed like some part of her was being sacrificed somewhere along this journey. All her life she had been the center of her own little universe; her daddy's little princess until the king was taken away from her. Then a prince in his own right-a bit of a shabby, poor prince but nonetheless a prince to take her hand and share life itself with her. She knew deep in her heart that she wasn't quite ready for the domestic routine of kids, carpool, PTA meetings and endless soccer games-hell, she insisted that it would be indeed a cold day in Hades before she traded that Corvette in for a bulky, ugly SUV!-and the pain of childbirth absolutely terrified her. Taylor glanced at a picture of herself beside Mick at Martinsville-just a couple of kids at the time-that hung on the wall. That tall, shy teenager had declared his love for her that weekend and seemingly locked their course together.
Suddenly she needed to get away from the busy company of the other women. Taylor found herself on the back porch overlooking the barns and pastures beyond. If she looked hard enough and revisited the pages of her memories, she could almost see him out there on his tractor or that big sorrel stallion along the crick. Long before the Garage Mahal was built along the highway. Back when he when he only dabbled in racing his own cars for "shits and giggles"; giving up and coming drivers a shot at the big time. Those long, lost days when Dale was just her big brother just learning to try his wings on the track. She could almost see him now; waiving and smiling as old Elvis broke into a lope along the white ribbon of road. Taylor almost caught herself waiving back, "Daddy!" choked back in her throat…..
"Hey! It's just me, Little Girl." Darrell grunted as he leaned against the porch rail and gazed at her quizzically. "Whatchoo doin' out here, anyway? `S'posed to be back in there with the rest o' them wimmin."
"Sorry…just needed some air, I guess." She sighed, "I miss him so much, Uncle D. I wish he was here. Wish he'd be standin' up there with me. Maybe I wouldn't be so damned scared…"
"Scared? Scared of what?" Darrell snorted. "Little Girl, you got ever'thing now. Mick worships the ground you walk on-just like his Daddy does Miz Ro back in there. You got nuthin' to be scared of. Gonna have a beautiful little baby soon…that'll be something special to look forward to." He grinned.
Taylor sighed, "That's what's scaring me…all that pain, losing my freedom….Uncle D, I'm just not sure I'm up for all this….I don't know if I can sacrifice everything I've wanted to accomplish so soon."
Darrell's voice grew low and his slate-blue eyes flashed with a quiet anger. "Now you listen and listen good, young `un. You kids- you, Mick and all your buddies-have the world at your disposal thanks all the pain and sacrifice we laid down for you." He paused for effect, making sure that her attention was on every word. "You wanna talk about pain? I done burnt my feet clear to the bone one night at Bristol-not just for the win, but for my girls. Your Daddy drove with a busted sternum-in so much pain he felt like he would split wide open-hell, girl. Child birth woulda been a walk on the beach that afternoon at North Wilkesboro. He drove all those years when he shoulda retired-just tryin' to build a life so you kids wouldn't have to know what want is." He swallowed hard, "Your mama kept that company going through some of the blackest days after he left us `cause that's what he'd want. Junebug drove that first year without him when he'da liked to quit-my brother too. But we kept on… you still with me, Taylor?"
"Yessir."
"Pain and sacrifice, girl. That's life-we all have trials. We all got our crosses to bear. Rory gave up almost ten years of her life but never gave up the hope she'd see that little boy of hers in his daddy's arms some day. She coulda gave up and died in that prison but she didn't. Dale never gave up tryin' to pull every string he could to set her free-didn't give a rat's ass how much it cost either. Now you're gonna sit there and tell me you're too goddamn selfish to give that man who loves you so much a child to hold because it might interfere with your precious studies and lifestyle?" His voice quivered as it often did when he got emotional; his eyes were as piercing as an eagle's.
Shame washed over her as if a bucket of ice water were dumped from above. Sickened at the recent conversation with Kyle at the coffee house, the contemplation of abortion and yet the seductive convenience of running away from it all and leaving Mick and his world far behind. She suddenly felt not worthy of her father's name or the company of the man who stood before her. The iron-like strength in the grip of Darrell's hand on her arm grounded her and just as quickly as his countenance turned from fierce to gentle.
"I'm so sorry…." She whispered. "I don't deserve him…I don't deserve any of this…"
"Now stop it, hon. Don't do this to yourself. There ain't a couple that's never gone through this. I'm just tryin' to make you understand that you just can't flat-out run from this cuz eventually it's gonna all come home to roost no matter how far you try to run. See, " he grinned with a wink, "I was just like you. Wild as they come and I didn't wanna settle for no one. Till a certain red-head roped me down anyway."
As if summoned by the sound of her name, Stevie Waltrip's voice rang out, "DAR-WALL, Wher' are ya? Git in here cuz it's almost time for dinner!"
"See-the RedHead's got a pretty short leash on me to this day. Trust me, Mick ain't goin' anywhere…" he laughed and turned into the parlor.
Taylor managed to smile in spite of her inner turmoil. She glanced back out on the road and the shad on horseback seemed to be smiling back. She watched quietly as he finally turned the old stud and faded back into the lengthening shadows.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Inside, the Coven was cackling merrily over the latest piece of gossip and picking it over like a bunch of buzzards on a chicken bone. Rory was already into her third glass of R. Childress's finest merlot and grinning not without a little hint of the cat that ate the canary over the latest word on her old rival, one Elizabeth Norris.
"Ya know, she was telling me that she was hosting a botox party." Snorted Stevie. "Wonderin' if I wanted to join her! Can ya imagine?? It'd be like puttin' a new coat of paint on Darrell's old pickup!"
"Aye, she's had more work done on `er than half our short track fleet in the rookie garage!" Rory snickered evilly. "I'd never have that shite done to me…" she snorted and poured herself another glass.
"You've never had a little nip `n' tuck?" Teresa arched her eyebrow. "You don't look a day over 35…"
"No and I wouldn't set a foot in one of `er fancy-arse spas either. I want the world to know that the roads I've traveled ain't been easy ones-or paved either." She grunted.
"You know, it wouldn't kill you to dust yourself off for the banquet this year…." Teresa laughed as she studied Rory's work-toughened hands. One rarely saw Rory dressed in anything finer than her weekend crew chief's garb. Her idea of putting on the ritz was acquiring a new pair of cowboy boots and washing her Silverado. What a dramatic difference between her and Buffy, she thought. Rory was a throw-back to the old days like Stevie. A hard-working wife and mother who always put her the well-being of her family first and to hell with the social-climbing trappings of the later incarnations of the "Nascar wife".
"Say, where's Taylor at?" Kim Burton looked up as if noticing the guest of honor were missing for the first time.
"Out on the porch with the old man." Stevie laughed, "Probably us old hens are scarin' the hell outta her!"
"Old hens, indeed." Rory chuckled, "I wouldn't blame her in the least for getting' cold feet. The next few months are gonna turn those poor kid's lives upside down. If Budweiser wasn't ready to pull out, I'd make Mick sit out next year just to concentrate on Taylor and the baby. But he's the only one beside Junior they want in that car and if we're to keep going, that's the way it's gotta be"
Stevie's eyes widened, "You can't be serious! Budweiser was about to pull out of DEI?" she asked softly.
Teresa nodded, "It's true. With Dale driving Michael's old car, Budweiser wasn't interested in anybody but Mick in the 8-and they're just giving us a year extension. If he doesn't perform next season, they're heading back to HMS."
"Jaysus…my poor Mick." Rory shook her head. "It's gonna be a real trial on all of us. Brendan's been doing poorly these past few months. We're pulling Steadman out of the 1 and we're putting Martin back in it, so we'll just have to see how that deal goes. I still don't think Martin's recovered enough from that concussion he took at Indy, so we'll just have to wait and see." In short, they all knew the 2013 season was already shaping up to be a long one.
Annoyed that the mood had suddenly turned somber, Teresa piped up, "Well awrighty then." She surveyed her guests and brought out another bottle of wine. "We've been through wore patches than this, we'll get through this one. So who shall we bag on now, ladies?"
"We're gonna pick someone else to bag on? You're an oul bitch, you know it, Terry?" Rory grinned sardonically.
"I say let's bag on Flossy Johnson!" barked Stevie. "You know she had the audacity to say my Dar-wall's getting' fat!"
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Junior looked at the medical reports without really absorbing any of the information. His hands shook as the ramification of the verdict slowly sank in. The surgeon sat quietly across from them, knowing it was best to simply let the patient come to terms with the prognosis and be there for whatever questions would inevitably arise. The man who sat beside Junior-his brother? His lover? Or just a friend-it didn't matter to the doctor who Steve was other than the fact that it was good that Junior needed a strong support system right now. A fucking little mass at the base of his skull. Something the size of a large sunflower seed.
"So what's this mean? It's benign right? Non-lethal, right?" His voice was but a whisper. Steve's grip tightened on his hand.
The doctor slowly shook his head, "I'm sorry but we simply can't let it go. If it breaks loose-it could kill you. It's an aneurism, Dale. Of course, you realize that until this is removed, you aren't going to be able to drive-if ever."
The doctor quietly regarded Junior's shattered expression. He dealt with driver injuries for a quarter of a century and this was the part of his job that he hated most of all. The final word that was like a death sentence-especially to drivers of Junior's caliber. He might have just as well put a gun to Junior's head and pulled the trigger.
"I'm sorry, Dale. Really, truly sorry." He said flatly. What else could he say?
Junior rose and quietly picked up the paperwork and diagnosis report from the table. He felt numb inside, totally without feeling. The emptiness felt as if the walls themselves were crushing him.
"Dale, please call me as soon as you can. We need to schedule this as quickly as possible." Junior nodded without saying anything.
Before he left, he finally found his voice, "If I don't elect to have this surgery, will it kill me?"
The doctor met his gaze, "If that clot breaks loose, yes. There's no timeframe on this-you could go for years and it might even disappear on it's own. If you decide to get back in a car, take a hard hit to the wall, it could break then-just the g-forces alone could break it. On a crowded track with other competitors around you, do you want to take that chance?"
"If you operate, will I able to drive again?"
The doctor sighed, "You've already suffered a significant decrease in your reflexes-there will be other motor ability reduction as well. If you're asking me if I'd give you clearance to race again, the answer would be no."
"Well, doc…guess that answers my question. If I can't race, I'd be better off dead…" With that, he turned and walked out the door with Steve in his wake.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Mick sat busily working in his office going through mounds of fan mail and other correspondences. He looked at the large envelope curiously and noted no return address. Shrugging, he opened it and pulled out what appeared to be a set of grainy, poor quality photos. At first, he couldn't make heads or tails out of the pictures other than it was obviously some very bad pornography sent in by the mentally disturbed. But upon closer examination, the subjects in those photos began to take on equally disturbing familiarity as the graphic images branded themselves on his mind.
"What the hell…" he muttered eyeing them closely. Sudden recognition brought bile to his throat as he felt the earth slipping out from underneath him, spinning out of control.
Chapter 15
Mick stared at the grainy images. So many questions went through mind; was this still his father? The man who was the epitome of strength and courage-everything a man should be in Mick's eyes. Michael was everything that Mick had aspired to be-a champion, a solid husband, friend and father. So why was he lying there in bed, giving himself to his best friend? How could he do this to his mother? How could he live such a lie to his family? Did Mick even know him anymore? One picture partially revealed a third person in bed with them but it was difficult from the angle to determine who it was-not that it mattered. There were a total of six photographs in all, taken from off a high-powered security camera. All extremely graphic depictions of a very intimate moment between his father and Junior. How could that bastard seduce his father like that? Mick mused furiously. How often had they been together like this? Was this a regular occurrence or just a drunken one-night stand? Better yet, who the hell had sent these pictures and what was their motive? As confused as Mick was, he couldn't help but wonder if someone had some sort of vendetta against his family.
Mick knew for years that Junior and Steve were lovers; he knew what they did behind closed doors. But that's about as far as he thought about their relationship. He had no problem with their alternative lifestyle but he chose not to dwell on it either. Now here it was right in his face. The initial shock and disgust slowly turned to fury as he tried to make sense of it all. As if things weren't fucked up enough as it is-now the discovery that his father was a closet bi-sexual-perhaps still having these little trysts with Junior. It was obvious to Mick the photos were old-Junior was much thinner in the pictures and Michael wasn't quite so grey and he didn't wear the ghastly scars from his accident at `Dega. But why now? It was bad enough that he was having grave misgivings about his impending marriage-there were times when he could sense that Taylor's heart wasn't one-hundred percent into it. She had broken his heart before when she left him for college under the guise that "it was for the best." He was also worried about the upcoming season-he was bidding good riddance to 2012 but could he overcome this year's disasters? He felt awful for his mother-did she even have the slightest inkling that the man she had known for twenty years had been screwing his best friend? Damn them all!
"I don't need this shit!" he yelled to no one in particular as he furiously flung the pictures in a file cabinet. Gotta get out of here..gotta get-
Suddenly his phone rang. "Yeah?" he growled.
"Just me…wazzup?" It was Steadman. "Me and Carl are headin' for the Nail. Wanna kill a few beers? Sounds like you could use a few."
"Aww man…yer a lifesaver. I'll be down in a bit." Mick muttered. He needed to get drunk and quickly. He knew very well that it wasn't going to solve any of his problems-probably even create a few but at this point, he didn't give a damn. As he headed down the stairs, he passed his mother's office. He could hear both Caitlin and his mother laughing hysterically over something on her computer.
"Hey-get in here! You've GOT to see this!" Caitlin exclaimed, still giggling.
"What?" he growled.
"It's Nabisco's new ad storyboard for the commercial they're planning on shooting for the 500…." On Rory's computer, there was a rough-sketch storyboard that Teresa had copied her on regarding some new ads for the DEI drivers. One depicted a crude cartoon-like drawing of Junior and Michael-both in their firesuites but also wearing frilly, pink tutus. "Remember the old `Snack Fairy' commercials-they're bringin' em back! Isn't this the funniest thing you've ever seen!? They're adorable!" Rory was almost on the floor, she was laughing so hard. "Both of `em-fairies! ….O Lord..I can't stand it….!" She exclaimed, wiping her eyes. Except Mick wasn't laughing.
"C'mon Micky…what's wrong with ya?"
"That's disgusting!" Mick spat as he turned abruptly. Talk about rubbing salt in his already bleeding wounds! It seemed if the entire world was mocking his life!
"Dang, bro…who pissed in your Post-Toasties?" Caitlin gazed quizzically at her brother-always the one with a joke on his lips yet now wore the blackest expression on his face. "Mick?"
By now, Rory was already at his side, "Darlin'? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost! What's upsettin' ya so?"
"I-I can't talk about it now, Mum…I'm sorry…it's just there's so much goin' on right now." He finished lamely. "Listen, Mum…I'm gonna see Steadman and Carl for a bit…I won't be too late."
"Mick…you're just out of the hospital. Take it easy on that foot now!" Lord knows when he gets with those two hellions, anything could happen. (and usually did) "Don't go tellin' anybody to `watch this!' either!" Last thing Rory needed was a call from the emergency room regarding another motorized barstool episode. Still, she didn't like the uncharacteristic anger that was clouding his eyes. As he walked out to his old Mustang, she followed quietly by his side.
"Mum…are things still good between you and Dad?" he asked softly. He tried to sound as calm as possible but the longer he stood there talking to her, the closer he felt as if he would fall apart at any moment. His heart was literally, slowly ripping to shreds and there wasn't a thing he could do about it at the moment except get blissfully soused.
Taken aback and completely blindsided by this question, Rory sucked in her breath, "Of course things are fine between us! Where ever did you get the idea that they weren't? Where's this coming from, Mick?" She gazed at him with those piercing slate-blue eyes.
Mick sighed and shook his head, "I dunno…I'm sorry, Mum. Guess it's all those pre-marriage jitters…" Still he wasn't satisfied and neither was Rory with his answer.
"Yer fulla shite, Mickey and you know it. What's eatin' ya?" Rory was quickly growing impatient with his sullen disposition and was already morphing from the concerned mother to a barking crew chief.
"Mum…has Dad ever cheated on you?" There. Now it was out.
"Listen Mick-there's not one secret I don't know about your father. He's never been unfaithful to me and I never to him. We've always been up front about everything an' if we piss each other off, we get it out in the open. There's no secrets in this house" She said sternly. "Don't concern yourself with your father-you know things have been insane at the shop! He's trying to appease Budweiser and keep your arse in a ride next year! All that and the fact that Junior is going under the knife in a couple of days has been keeping him from home-who the bloody hell do you think you are jumping to conclusions?!" She nearly shouted. "Ya might want to be keepin' yer eye on Taylor-she's been keepin' enough company of that worthless Shrub from what I've heard." She instantly regretted that last barb but Rory's Irish temper was up and ready for battle. It didn't matter if it was only Mick or Mike Helton himself.
Oh there's a few secrets you don't know, Mick thought but wisely refrained from saying it. If she ever finds out, this will destroy her. I'll kill both of those bastards before I'll let them hurt her! "I'm sorry, Mum…really I am. I don't know what I'm doing anymore…"
Rory's fierce countenance softened and she pulled him close. "I know. We're all half mad with so much going on lately. We'll have a nice, long vacation soon with the holidays coming on and then we'll deal with next season when it comes. We've got a lot to look forward to, Mickey."
"Yeah, Mum…I'll see ya later. I won't be too late..."
With that resolution firmly planted in his mind, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before he hopped in his car.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"We should call Mike….let him know what's going on with those results…" Steve began as he watched Junior listlessly pick at his dish of roasted chicken. "I'm sure he'd want to know, Dale." Their gazes met at the mention of Michael's name and the still unfinished business regarding where he fit in their life together. Junior closed his eyes knowing well that there would be no further avoidance of the issue or that afternoon when he was released from the hospital. Steve knew right away that something had happened between them. He could still see Michael's reflection in his eyes; his scent still clung to him.
"I know we still gotta a lot to talk about…." He looked up into Steve's unwavering yet still loving gaze. "I don't have anything to say for myself-I know I was wrong. I love you-don't want to loose you. But…" he broke off.
"I know…you've always loved him, Dale. You two go back together forever-I can't hold that against you or him. But I gotta know where I stand too, Dale. You're my world…I-I can't imagine life without you."
Junior put his face in his hands and leaned heavily into them. His head was throbbing already; the pain was nearly making him nauseous. Finally he looked up at Steve and met his gaze. "Man.." he began slowly, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't even begin to tell you how much you mean to me, Steve. I ain't gonna lie to you- things did happen between me and Michael that afternoon. Lookin' back, it was wrong-way wrong." He sighed, "Guess I just couldn't help myself…."
"Do you love him, Jun?"
"Yeah…I do. Like I said, I ain't gonna lie about it but ya know what?" Steve looked at him, expecting to face the inevitable release from this relationship that he had nurtured for so long.
"I love you more." He grinned that shy grin that melted Steve's heart so long ago. "We've got a good thing here-me an' you. Me an' Michael wouldn't work out as a couple-he's still got his family…I ain't got jack. Michael's like that hot date-the real, hot fuck but you're my rock, the one who keeps me grounded….I dunno…guess that's sounds pretty lame!" They both laughed and Junior slipped into Steve's arms and rested his head on his shoulder.
"Ya know, I can be a real, hot fuck too if you want…" Steve grinned.
"You know what I meant!"
"Still…" Steve mused, a peculiar look on his face; eyes gleaming. "I can see the attraction in Michael….wouldn't mind swappin' bodily fluids with him myself…" he grinned lustily. Junior arched his eyebrows questioningly.
"All three of us?? Now that would be interesting…better wait till after my surgery. Last thing I want is to drop dead on you two…I want my brains fucked out but not like that!"
Steve shuddered, "Ech…don't talk like that!"
They stayed locked in an embrace together for quite some time. Junior's mood turned somber as he gazed at the assortment of trophies and memorabilia that lined the walls.
"Steve?"
"Yeah…"
"I don't know if I can do this…"
"Yes you can…you've got to do this Jun. You could die without this operation." Steve hugged him close, "I can't loose you like that."
"It's not the operation that scares me. It's not being able to race anymore. What am I gonna do? I used to joke about retiring at 40 but I'm still at the top of my game. I think I'd go crazy if I couldn't get in that car anymore…"
"I came back, remember? You aren't done yet, Jun…you're gonna get through this and you'll be back in that car…I know you will." Steve tightened his grip on Junior as if he was afraid to let go of him, afraid that he would literally fly off the face of the earth if not for Steve's grip.
"Daddy used to say, `Heaven ain't ready for me yet!'" Junior smiled sadly. "Said Heaven ain't ready for him and Hell wouldn't take him `cause the Devil was afraid he'd take over." He said with a sad chuckle.
Steve kissed him softly, "Yeah…that fits you too." There they sat as a soft rain began to beat against the windows, almost in cadence with the beat of their heats.