The Phone Call
Notes: Did I ever mention that I don’t own any of the journalists/pit reporters that I mention here? Oh, well, I don’t.
Ok, Finally Jeffy wins, so life in NASCAR can return to normal. Now lets get that red beer car in Victory lane, and maybe the blue beer car too, because he deserves a win too. OOO – and the yellow oil car. He NEEDS a win.
Chapter 4 The Phone Call
Before Carly could say a thing, Dale grabbed her arm, and whisked her out the door. Steve wanted to get Megan’s number, so he stopped by the door, to wrap things up with her.
“Dale- what just happened here?” Carly demanded.
“Just walk, I’ll tell you when we’re in the truck.” They briskly walked back to where the truck was parked. Dale opened the drivers side door, and helped Carly up. She slid into the middle. Dale hopped in and shut the door. He put his hands on the steering wheel, and stared out the windshield. “Come on, Steve, get your ass on out of there!” he mumbled.
“Ok- what is it??” Carly asked again.
“It’s her.” He answered.
“Her who?”
He slowly turned his head to look at Carly. “Pamela Morgan.”
“Oh. It’s that bad, that you have to run away from her?”
“Carly, you don’t understand. I hate her. I really don’t want to ever see her or talk to her again. She’d make a big scene in that club. “Oh, look, it’s Dale Junior” she’d say. “Gosh, darlin’ you look just as good as you did when we were dating.” Dale mimicked her. “Trust me, babe, she’s done it before. I just hope she didn’t catch hold of Steve.”
Just as Dale said that, Steve walked out of the club. He had his collar turned up, and was looking down as he jogged back to Dale’s truck. Carly reached over and opened the door, and Steve got in.
“Go, go, go, man.” Steve said.
“Did she see ya?” Dale asked, as he drove out of his parking spot.
“No, but guess what. Megan works for her. I got her number. She told me it was her work number, and that she works as a personal assistant. I was afraid to ask for whom, but I did. And yes, it was Pamela Morgan. Shit! Why me?” he said.
“Damn! What did you tell her?” Dale worried.
“I told her it was extremely important that she did not tell any one that she saw us tonight. Even her boss. For publicity reasons. I hope she bought it. Man, I really liked her too.” He looked down at Carly. “Dammit, Carly-girl, why aren’t there more cute girl racecar drivers like you?”
Carly frowned in sympathy. “I’m sorry Stevie, if I find one, I’ll send her to you. Ok?” She kissed him on the cheek. Steve smiled.
The guys were silent as they drove. “Ok, I gotta know,” Carly asked “what is she doing here if she lives in Atlanta or San Jose?”
“Probably something to do with the ARCA car. I just didn’t think we’d see her.” Dale answered. “I have no idea what her schedule is. I just know the ARCA car goes to Atlanta Wednesday, Carly drives it in the morning, then we stick the witch in it for tests in the afternoon, if she cuts it, she practices Thursday morning, we practice in Atlanta Thursday Afternoon, blah blah blah. I was hoping to avoid any and all contact.” Dale sighed. They pulled up in Carly’s driveway.
They said good-bye to Steve, and Dale walked Carly into her house. “Sit down, babe, want something to drink?” Carly asked him.
“Just water. I’ve had enough alcohol.” He leaned forward and hung his head down. “Seeing her was like watching the wicked witch appear in the Wizard of Oz. She’s just evil. There’s nothing nice about her. Nothing!” Dale vented. “What the hell was Teresa thinking??”
“Calm down, babe!” Carly laughed, rubbing his shoulders. “Look, just be calm, and very “matter of fact”. Don’t let her see you upset. If she knows she gets to you, she’ll take advantage of it. Be the “cool dude” that you are!” She laughed.
He laughed. “Commere!” he said, grabbing her and kissing her. “You are so funny. I still don’t think you grasp this whole situation. But you made me laugh.” He kissed her again.
“Dale, it can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be. Lets just deal with it tomorrow, ok?” She said.
“I dunno. I guess. I need to get home. I got no clean clothes.” He said, as he traced the outline of her face with his fingertip.
“Not so fast, bucko. I haven’t finished with you yet…”
~~**~~
He left about an hour later. Carly watched him drive away. She checked her door locks, and went upstairs to her bedroom. She had a picture of her and Dale at Daytona, standing in front of their cars, on her nightstand. “Good night, babe!” she whispered. She turned out her light, and fell asleep.
~~**~~
It was habit for her to wake up between 6:30 and 7:00 in the morning. She didn’t have to be at DEI until 9:30, where she was going to meet Jade and Dale, and go to some publicity events. Their first stop was at Dale Earnhardt Chevrolet in Kannapolis.
She had just gotten out of the shower. Her stomach was in knots, she figured it was due to the whole Pamela Morgan issue. Her phone rang. It was 7:30. Who would be calling this early? She wondered.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Carly Grant?” a man asked.
“Who’s calling please?” she inquired.
“This is Steve Waid of NASCAR Illustrated, and NASCAR This Morning. Is this Carly?”
“Hey, Steve! It’s Carly. How are you?”
“Well, I’m fine, but, the question is Carly, how are you??” he insisted.
“Fine, I guess – why? What’s up?”
“The news. The news from DEI. About you!”
“What about me?” she asked, getting worried.
“You haven’t heard? Dale Junior’s statement on the radio this morning?”
“NO! What statement? Steve, What the hell is going on??”
“I hate to be the one that tells you this, Carly, but Dale Junior got on the radio this morning and stated that you would be going back to ARCA, and you would be replaced in the #81 Budweiser car. Is this true?”
Carly was stunned. Her stomach churned, and she almost got sick right then and there. “Steve, I need to get back to you.” And she hung up. She sat down. Her head was spinning. Her phone rang again.
“Hullo?” she answered meekly.
“Carly, this is Rick Hendrick, from Hendrick Motorsports?”
“Mr. Hendrick! Hi.”
“Carly, is what we’ve heard true? Are you leaving DEI?”
“I don’t exactly know, Rick. I need to call the office. What can I do for you?” she asked weakly.
“Drive a Winston Cup car!!” he laughed. “A talent like yours is not going to be wasted in ARCA. I’ll have a car and a team ready for you by this Friday in Atlanta, if you want it. You talk to Ty and Teresa, and if things aren’t resolved to your liking at DEI, you call me right back. Hopefully by noon, if you can, so we can schedule a press conference. Ok?”
“Sure thing, Rick. I’ll call you either way. And thanks, that is a generous offer! I really do appreciate it. And if the rumor is true, I will be interested!” she smiled weakly.
“Sure thing. We’ll talk later. Bye!” He hung up. Her phone rang again. This time she let the machine get it.
“Carly, this is Rusty Wallace. Roger Penske and I want to talk to you…Call me back when you can, please? He left his number.
She reached down and unplugged the phone from the wall.
