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Total number of drivers 40. Number of company teams 10. Number of tracks 20. Number of countries 12. Time frame 6 months. Number of Fallen Angels hooked on speed 2. The McGuire sisters are and they’re out for blood in the newly founded International Stockcar Racing Association. After two years driving the Formula One circuit Professional Drivers Roberta Bobbie McGuire and her sister Elisabeth ‘Beth’ McGuire have made real names for themselves. The two young ladies took the world by storm in their first year by placing 3rd and 4th in the Championship points race. Now their plans and dreams of starting in the International Stockcar Association have come to fruition. The Fury twins plan to prove to the world they belong in Stockcar Racing. And they don’t care who they have to put into the wall to bring home the inaugural championship.

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Chapter 12
Darlington, South Carolina, Wednesday

I’ve spent the last thirteen days helping Mac organize the new Formula One teams. I still can’t believe that mom and dad dropped this mess into my lap. Not that I should bitch. After all it was my big mouth that started the ball rolling on the new F-1 teams in Motegi. I was a little surprised by the turnout from the local car clubs we when announced the formation of the teams. On the first day we had over ninety young men and women showing for a chance at a slot on the pit crews.

I was surprised when Mac asked Tom Steward, our shop’s lead fabricator if he could build another four cars in two weeks. When I asked him, what was on his mind Mac chuckled. What he told me floored my ass. Between Triple R and the new team of Super Mac Racing, there would be two new F-1 teams. It seems that Steven Henshaw and Dale Ingersoll from the Beach Bums impressed the hell out of him with their driving. He was even more surprised when they were actually able to challenge him on the Knight’s Racetrack.

He offered them both a three-year contact to drive for him that day. In his words ‘He had never seen such much raw talent in one place for driving in all his life.’ As much as I hate to admit this he has to be right. I’ve spent the last week studying the drivers for car clubs at the Knight’s Track. I’ve always known that I went up against some of the best drivers in the area in my rat racing. I just never realized the caliber of those drivers. Of the main drivers for the clubs there was only two that I won’t put behind the wheel of a racecar. Not that they couldn’t drive a racer, but because they were both barely legal to drive on the streets.

I’ve also been spending a lot of time in the offices of MRI. Like today. Going over the shipping manifests, construction schedules, racing schedules, and all the other mundanely minor yet always important details that goes into running an international racing team. The biggest problem though was the time frame I’ve been forced to deal with. The F1A commissioners approved the two new teams the moment we sent in the paperwork. Their only stipulation was they had to be ready to run in the next race at Montreal, Canada. Mac and I were trying to pull off a four-month project in four weeks. The fact that the newest members of Triple R and SMR were able to pull together then actually pull off the impossible amazed me.

The one thing that really amazed me about these kids was their passion. Here we are in the heart of NASCAR country, and these kids are dreaming of Formula One racing. All because of what me and Beth did two years ago. The dream of being a NASCAR driver is still there but now it has to compete with the dream of joining the Formula One and ISA circuits. The draw of international travel has opened the eyes of the local kids to a much wider world.

Then there is the one thing that I never dreamt of happening. A word of our accomplishments spread among the local street racers. The more our celebrity grew the more they wanted to challenge us. Normally me and Beth had no problems with facing these challenges on the Knight’s racetrack. One the fun things was the occasional defeat by these challengers. Not that there was a lot of losses, but they did happen it made it fun for us. Especially when those same challengers would give us a rematch. Which we always won. Then there was those few that just couldn’t be made to see reason.

“Hey Bobbie! Get out here!” Kelly yelled at me for some reason.

As I walk out to the front of the garage area I pull up short. Standing in the middle of our lobby is the one asshole I really don’t want to deal with, Frank Thomas Talbott. The current Darlington county rat racing king and pain in my ass. The loud-mouthed son of bitch has been going around telling everyone that will listen that he can take me. The funny thing is every member of the local clubs have laughed in his face at his arrogance.

“Time to put your money where your mouth is McGuire. I’m sick and tired of waiting for you to man-up.” Frank snarled. “One of those driver slots is mine. Either fire that English bitch or I’ll let everyone know that you’ve lost your nerve. The funny part is I won’t have to do anything to prove it.”

“Just what the fuck are you going on about Franky boy?” I snarled.

“Simple. In the last two years you haven’t accepted a single challenge at the Knight or on the streets. There plenty of reporters that would love to leek a story about a drive who’s lost their nerve. Just image the damage a story like that would do to your carrier. The Vegas bookies would love a story like that. Not to mention how your sponsors would react if they found out you lost your nerve. I bet they would pullout before the ink even dried on tabloids first run.” Frank laid out for me his reasoning. The sad part he was right. I remember similar story and the impact it had on the driver.

“What do you want Frank? Really. Not that bullshit line you gave about wanting on the teams as a driver. We both know that you’ll never get a professional license. Not with your fucking criminal record.” I told the shithead bluntly. I knew that he was up to something. Just not what.

“Maybe not a FIA Racing Super License. But I can still get a NASCAR license. I beat you in a one on one race and I can write my own ticket with every NASCAR team out there. They’ll even help me secure my ticket.” Frank answered in a smug know-it-all attitude.

“You really believe that horseshit don’t you, Frank.” I stated just as bluntly. “What I want to know is who gave you such a fucked-up idea? There is no way you can pass the requirements to get your NASCAR ticket. It doesn’t matter who you try to get to back you.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it bitch. You and your sister walk around town like you’re hot shit. That no one can take you down.” Frank ranted as he stepped closer and closer to me. Once he was less than a yard from my face he leaned in close. “Well you made a mistake. You got soft. You got scared. You forgot what it means to be a real driver.”

“You know something fuck face. You just got your race. Five laps at the Knight. Winner takes all. You are pretty good. I’ll give you that much. You think you’re better than ninety percent of the drivers in the clubs. You’re only half right. You’ve made one major mistake.” I spit in his face. “You’ve overrated your skills and underrated mine.”

Frank went to rare back with his fist only to get be greeted by the cocking of a pistol pointed at his head. I smiled over at Kelly and her ever present .38 Police Special. “You got your race Franky boy. Now get the fuck out before they have to carry you out.”

“Have your ass at the Knight’s track in one hour or I’m calling the press.” Frank snapped as he turned to leave.

“No can-do Franky boy. Unlike you I have a real job. Let’s make it six this evening.” I smirked as Frank frowned at my comment about having a real job. “Don’t worry I’ll be there with the pink slip to my Viper in hand.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank asked me bluntly.

“Around here we race for pink slips Frank. Let me break things down for your simple mind Franky. You lose the race you lose your car. It’s that simple. That is unless you’ve got, ten-grand in your pocket. Then we race for the cash. There is none of this racing for pride bullshit. Cash or pinks asshole. That’s the deal. You still game?” I asked sweetly.

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry about that. I just hope you have someone to drive you home after you lose bitch.” Frank snarled as he stormed towards the door. “Because you’re going the fuck down.”

“Spider, get your ass in here!” Kelly shouts at the top of her lungs as she puts her pistol away. “Bobbie, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing love. Frank Talbott is suffering from the delusion that he’s god’s gift to street racers.” I assured her as I squatted for her. “As for my leg forget about it. I’m almost back in racing shape. Between Doc Shultz and Mindy over at the PT clinic I’ve got almost full mobility restored. Tonight’s little race will be nothing more than a lesson in stupidity.”

“Are you sure about this Bobbie?” Kelly asked me with real worry in her voice. “The only reason I’m asking is, you haven’t really pushed the Viper since you’ve been home. It’s like you’re being haunted by something.”

I was saved from answering that by the arrival of John ‘Spider’ Walker. He was our lead mechanic in the shop now. “You bellowed Kelly?”

“My wife went and got stupid, Spider.” Kelly snarked. “And I don’t bellow.”

“Where’s the snake?” Spider sighed as he asked about my Dodge Viper.

“Interfectorem anguis is out behind the parts warehouse.” Told him as I went to grab my keys from my purse. “Set her up for a no holds barred rat race.”

“Gotcha Bobbie. Does she need a fine tune up?” John asked with a smile. He loved my car. Any chance that he got to work on her was pure heaven for him.

“You got the time for something like that?” Kelly asked him.

“I always have time to work on that little lady. She ani’t nothing but pure sex. She deserves to be treated like the lady she is, Kelly.” John answered as he took my keys. “Besides. The last she was tuned up was a year ago.”

“Fine just make sure you don’t neglect your normal duties.” Kelly warned him. “Those cars need to be ready for shipping by Friday.”

“All that’s left to do on that front is shipping them out, boss. The first four can be flown out for staging later today. The others can go out on the next DHL plane, Friday. The replacement stockcars can fly out on Saturday. The only hold up for them is the wait on the Charlie one-thirty.” John answered her with a real smile of pride. “As for the pit crews and maintenance teams their set to fly the moment McNair gives the word. I got to say boss. I’ve never seen four teams come together so fast in my life.”

“That’s because they’ve all been practicing for a chance at becoming the next Formula One team. You need to spend some time down at the Knight, Spider. Those kids and their clubs have all seen what the Darlington Knights did two years ago. They all want what the Darlington Knights have earned.” I explained for John. “Look I know that you’re not from around here Spider. So, it might seem strange to you. But to those kids this is more than just a dream to them. It’s a way out of Darlington county.”

“I don’t understand Bobbie.” John said as he gave me a strange look.

“Around here there aren’t a whole lot of options for kids just out of high school. Those that don’t win a scholarship to a college either join the military, work their family’s farm, or get one of the few jobs in the area. Those that can leave never return. The fact that we’re offering them even the smallest of chances at getting out is more than motivation for them. It’s a chance to help their families.” I explained as I looked out the window of the lobby. “With the economy the way it is now days. That means a lot.”

“Damn. I guess I never really look at the situation for kids in this county.” John said as he scratched the top of his head. “Is it like that in the rest of the state or just in Darlington county?”

“Sadly, Spider there are a lot of counties like Darlington in South Carolina. I don’t know how things are in Tennessee. I just know how they’ve been in South Carolina for the last thirty to forty years. Sure, things have been slowly changing around here in the last few years, but they haven’t changed that much.” I explained as I kept my eyes on the 1972 blue Plymouth Barracuda that was sitting across the street from our parking lot. I noticed it for the first time five days ago. “Spider, any idea of who owns that Barracuda?”

“None. I do know that it is not a local car. Just look at the plates.” John said as he pointed at the car. “The only states that give out those types of classic car plates is Delaware, Maine, and New Hampshire.”

“That narrows the owners down to around a few thousand.” Kelly snarked.

“Drop it Kelly. This is one time we can’t bitch about an out of town car. Call Steph and ask her if she’s got anything the owner of that car.” I told her as I walked towards the front door. “I’ll be back in two hours. I need to have a talk with someone.”

I took her keys to the Gladiator. As much as I wanted to ignore the problem I couldn’t. I headed for the one person who could possibly give me some insight to my problem. I had made the appointment last week. Twenty minutes later I was pulling into the parking lot for Doctor Sharron Kelly. As I enter her office I was attacked by a 95lbs missile.

“BOBBIE!” I chuckled as I looked down at smiling face of Lee Harvey. The last time I had seen him he looked like death warmed over.

“How’s it going Lee? You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.” I said as I gave him a welcoming hug.

“I’m in remission.” Lee smiled brightly. “The docs gave me the good news two months ago. If things keep going the way they are they say that I can go back to school this fall. I know this sounds crazy, but I can’t wait.”

“No, it doesn’t Lee. I was the same way. You still seeing T.E.?” I asked him with a grin that matched his own.

“I guess you haven’t heard. Doctor Lawrence is no longer practicing in South Carolina. He moved back to England last year. Something about having to take care of his mother.” Lee told with a sad note to his voice. “I really got to like him. He got me hooked on English Premier Soccer. We even spent weekends together at our house on NBC and NBCSN.”

“That’s sad to hear. I know that his mom is in her late sixties. Though I am glad to hear that you two found something to connect over.” I said as I ruffled his now thick red hair. “Though I really can’t condone your obsession with that so-called sport.”

“HEY!” Lee shouted as he punched me in the arm. Then chuckled. “I watched more than just soccer you know. By the way thank you for that signed poster of you and Beth. All my friends can’t believe that I actually know a real racecar driver. I’ve seen all of your races. Even T.E. watched them.”

“Okay, I guess I can forgive you for liking soccer.” I said airily. “Especially if you got old stone face to watch a race.”

“We had a deal. For every soccer game we watched. We had to watch one race.” Lee chuckled evilly. “Promise not to tell.”

I just nodded my head as I knew this was going to be good. “He started to root for you and your sister. He became a bigger fanatic about the races then me. He even bought the diecast models of your cars.”

“My God! The horror of it all! T.E. Lawrence a race fan. The world is truly coming to an end.” I snarked as I threw back my head while placing the back of my hand against my forehead. I had Lee laughing at my antics.

“I thought I heard a familiar voice. How you doing stranger?” Sharron said as she walked in the reception area. “You can head on back Lee. Betty will be right in. She just needs to finish putting away the file for her last client.”

“How is Karren doing, Doctor Sharron?” Lee asked politely.

“She’s doing much better now, Lee. Karren will undergo surgery next week. In about two months she’ll start radiation treatments to control the cancer.” Hearing Sharron talk about a first round of chemo tugged at my heart. My feelings must have shown on my face. “Karren was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in her knees just over four weeks ago.”

“Will she be able to keep her legs, Doc Sharron?” Lee asked quickly.

“That will be up to the surgeon in charge at the time of her operation Lee. I’ll be honest with you kiddo. Osteosarcoma is a nasty form of cancer.” Sharron sighed as we both saw the sadness take hold of Lee. “I know that you like her Lee. Do you want some advice?”

“Sure, Doc Sharron.” Lee said as he looked up at her.

“Just be a friend for her right now. She’ll need as many friends as she can get in the next few months. Like I said osteosarcoma is a truly nasty cancer. All too often it robs youngsters like yourself of limb and sometimes life. Fortunately, Karren’s doctors believe they have caught it in time.” Sharron told the young teen kindly.

“Okay Doctor Sharron. I’ll be there for her.” Lee said and gave her a hug then head back to talk with Betty.

“Let’s go to my office Bobbie.” Sharron said and led the way back to her office. Once we were alone and we were seated Sharron got down to business. “Okay kiddo. It’s just us.”

“Sharron, I don’t know how to say this.” I started only to have her interrupt.

“You’re afraid that you’ve lost your nerve behind the wheel of a racecar.” Sharron pointed out to me in her usual no bullshit manner. Sharron chuckled at my stunned look. “Bobbie, you haven’t been out to either of the local tracks in the two weeks you’ve been in town.”

“How the hell do you know that?” I demanded.

“Oh, I have my ways Bobbie.” Sharron said trying to be all mysterious. And failing miserably but she still got me to chuckled. “Okay fine. One of the girls with the Firebirds was a patience of mine.”

“I guess it wouldn’t have taken you long to figure out that I wasn’t hitting the tracks.” I sighed and got to the reason for my visit. “And you’re right. I’m afraid that I’ve lost my never. That wreck in Chiba did get to me. More than I was willing to let mom and dad know.”

“Just how bad are the shakes Bobbie?” Sharron asked politely.

“I can probably thread a sowing machine while it was running.” I answered honestly as I held out my still shaking hand. “This is just from the drive over here in the Gladiator. My Viper has been parked behind the parts building over at the MRI shop. The last time I drove it was the first morning back.”

“And in your usual pigheadedness you’re been trying to gut your way through to a solution. Refusing to accept the fact that for the first time since you and Kelly were married you could have died.” Sharron said giving me her usual ‘I figured as much’ look with sigh. “You’ve had brushes with death before Bobbie. Both on and off the track. What was it about this wreck that upset you to this point Bobbie? You’ve been in other wrecks over the last two years. You’ve even been injured in a few of those wrecks.”

“I don’t know, Sharron. That’s the problem. I’ve never been this frightened about being behind the wheel of a car.” I told her honestly.

“Tell me about the wreck in Chiba Bobbie. Most of us stateside still haven’t gotten the full story yet.” Sharron told me with a blank face. I took a deep breath and thought back to that day more than three weeks ago. When I got to the part about the sabotage Sharron held up her hand. “Bobbie I think I know what the problem is. Just as you do.”

“Okay Sharron normally I won’t argue with you. This time though I’m calling bullshit. If I knew what the problem was I won’t be here!” I snapped finally.

“Think Bobbie. Use that brilliant mind of yours.” Sharron sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “Or do I need to take you over my knee?”

I sat there trying to understand what Sharron was getting at. I know that my fear is irrational then again a lot of fears are irrational. Only problem is the fear of a wreck becoming deadly is rational. Especially at the speeds which I drive on a speedway or superspeedway. Finally, Sharron must have decided to have petty on me.

“Bobbie, the wrecks at Chiba happened because of sabotage. What makes you think that every car you get in has been sabotaged?” Sharron asked bluntly. I wanted to deny what Sharron was suggesting but couldn’t. “Bobbie you know that wrecks are part of racing. You expect them. Hell, you even plan for them. It has been something you’ve faced from the first time you strapped on your HANS device. You get out there on every track with the full knowledge of what can happen. You and your team take every conceivable possible precaution to keep you safe behind the wheel of your racecars. You’re so safety orientated that even your wife’s truck has a reinforced frame. I won’t even comment on that monster you call a sportscar. I doubt there is a single Dodge Viper anywhere that can match yours for safety. The last time I heard you pushed your Viper to one-eighty-three just six months ago at the Lady. How many adjustments have you done on that car’s engine since then, Bobbie?”

“More than I’m willing to admit to my psychiatrist.” I chuckled as I thought about she question. “Let alone in a courtroom.”

“That car is part of you Bobbie. You know that Viper better than the racecars you drive on the racetracks of the world.” Sharron pointed out the glaring truth concerning the relationship between me and my Viper. “This is something you know deep down in your bones. You just have to trust yourself and your car.”

I sighed. “That’s the problem, Sharron. I know I can trust the car.”

“It’s your skills that you’re doubting.” Sharron summed up with a heavy sigh. She looked me in the eye and smirked. “Bobbie do you remember the first time that you raced Sam Horn? You were what seventeen at the time?”

I chuckled as I remembered the race that Sharron was talking about. Sam Horn was the undefeated street racing champion until I came along. All Sam saw a cocky kid in a prime GTO with a clean title. I can still remember how my hands trembled as I challenged Sam to a race. I still have the key fob for his 79 Mazda RX-7 IMSA Racer. It, along with a good number of key fobs now hung from a pegboard in my workshop at home. I never keep the cars I win but the key fobs for those cars is another matter. I’ll never forget the look on Sam’s face when I handed him back his keys and title after I won. I won a shit load of ‘cool points’ that day.

“I want you to think about something Bobbie. You are one of the youngest people to ever gain a professional license for your sport. You did all of the work on your own. No one helped you to earn that distinction.” Sharron told me with a smile then went in for the kill. “You did all that to keep a promise to a young woman who was your friend. You going to give all that up over a wreck that got a little too close. What happened to that arrogant little shit that asked me for a blowjob the first we met?”

“DAMN IT! SHARRON I AM SCARED!” I screamed in her face. There is was out in the open. I sat back in my chair and sighed. “Until two years ago I never dreamed of living beyond the next day. I never planned on being a spouse. I never dreamed of becoming a parent. All of that was nothing more than a wish. Now I have all of that and more. I don’t want to lose all that I’ve worked my ass off for in some wreck that I can avoid. I know that I place my life on the line every time I get behind the wheel.”

“Then why did you accept the challenge from Frank Talbott?” Sharron asked me bluntly. “Kelly called me after you stormed out of the office.”

“Because the fuck face piece of shit is crazy enough to threated me in my place of business. He actually stormed in the offices of MRI and called me. Saying he would go to the press saying I lost my nerve.” I snarled. “The little rat fucker pissed me off. Before I realized what I was doing I was issuing my own challenge to a five-lap race at the Knight.”

“I know Kelly told me everything that happened. The only thing she didn’t tell me was why you waited this long before putting that shithead in his place.” Sharron smirked as she leaned forward on her desk. “Now what really made you want to throw down in your office’s lobby? I know you Bobbie. It wasn’t some rat-racer threatening to go to the press.”

For the first time since that confrontation I actually stopped to think about what happened. I didn’t realize just how pissed off Frank had made me. It wasn’t the fact that he threatened to call me a coward in the press. I could deal with that and blow it off. I’ve earned more than a few detractors and haters over the last two years. I’ve turned down as many challenges as I have accepted at the Knight. So, I know that isn’t what pissed me off. Just what was it that Frank said that pissed me off.

“You want the answer Bobbie?” Sharron asked with a sly smile. I just nodded my head yes. “You got pissed off not because some dip shit challenged you in your office. You got pissed because he’s forcing you to face your fear. Something that you have never been one to tolerate.”

As much as I wanted to call Sharron on her bullshit I couldn’t. Frank had done exactly what she said. Then Sharron went for the kill. “And despite almost three years of living as a woman, Bobbie. You are still every much a male. A male with a rather large amount of male pride. Pride in your skills as a driver that you richly deserve.”

“You’re saying I let my ego get the better of me.” I sighed. “Again.”

“Yup. Don’t take it the wrong way kiddo. You need a healthy ego to be a professional racecar driver. Right along with a set of balls the size of King Kong’s or tits big enough to motorboat yourself.” Sharron looked at me then grinned. “In your case you have all three.”

“You know that was just wrong, Sharron. True but wrong on some many levels.” I chuckled as I thought about what she said. “Do me a favor. Never lose your twisted sense of humor.”

“Trust me Bobbie. That is one constant nothing will ever change. My twisted humor is right there with gravity, death, and taxes.” Sharron chuckled.

“Don’t mention taxes!” I grumbled. At Sharron’s questioning look I sighed and told her what was bugging me. “Somebody in the local IRS office has decided to run an audit on my winnings for the past two years.”

“Ah such is the life of the rich and famous.” Sharron chuckled. “The question that faces you now is are you going to show at the Knight? It’s not like you have anything to prove.”

“There is where you’re wrong Sharron. I do have something to prove. Not to Frank and the other meatheads.” I said as I stood up.

“Then to who?” She asked with a sly knowing smile.

“To the only person that matters.” I told as I headed to the door. “Myself.”

“If you know that then you’ll be fine.” Sharron said as she stood up from behind her desk. “One last thing before you go Bobbie.”

“What do you need Sharron?” I asked her.

“When you get done handing Frank Talbott his ass. Would you mind swinging by Billy’s Big Barn Pizza? I have someone who would love to met you.” Sharron told me with a small smile.

“Sure, thing Sharron. You know that I’ve never had problems with meeting your patients. I’ll be there even if I lose.” I told her with a smile.

“Thank you Bobbie. Only this time it’s not a patient. Do you remember Racheal, my old receptionist?” I nodded my head as I thought about the pretty redhead that used work for Sharron and the other headshrinkers. “Will she has a twelve-year-old niece and nephew that are major fans of yours and Beth’s.”

“Say no more Sharron. I’ll bring a few of the signed posters that we have at the office with me. MRI has a stack of them already signed by our drivers. For just these types of occasions.” I told her with a smile. “What say eight? That good for you and your family?”

“We’ll be there. What time is your race?” Sharron asked.

“In two hours why?” I asked after checking my watch.

“Then it’s a good thing that you’re my next to last patient for the day. We’ll see you at the Knight. I think Amy and Andy will get a kick out of watching you in your true element.” At my cocked head Sharron giggled. “Bobbie, you made your name as a street racer. The Knight is a street racer’s wet dream. A road course open to the public for the sole purpose of legal street racing.”

“I’ll see you there. I’ll even make sure there is an open spot in the town nest for them. That way they’ll be able to see the whole race from start to finish.” I giggled as I walked out of her office. “I plan to put on a show.”

Sharron just laughed as she escorted me towards the lobby exit. I pulled up short when I spotted the 72 Barracuda from outside of the MRI offices. This time though the driver was standing by the front finder. Sharron Waved at the young man as she opened the door. “You know the driver Sharron?”

“Of course, I do. So, do you Bobbie.” At my look of confusion Sharron chuckled. “That’s Darnell Webb.”

“Holy Shit! The last time I saw Darnell was three years ago. Did he go into remission?” I couldn’t believe that I was seeing Darnell. By all rights he should have died two years ago from neuroblastoma.

“His doctors gave him the good news shortly after you started racing Formula One. I take it he’s been following you around?” Sharron asked with a chuckle.

“You could say that. Now I need to have a talk with Darnell.” I said as I walked out the door and straight up to Darnell. “I take it you want a race?”

“You would think that Bobbie.” Darnell snarked. Then held out his hand. “Good to see you Speedy. How have you been?”

“Not bad ‘D’.” I said taking his hand with a smile. “Nice ride. Where did you get your hands on her?”

“Found her in a storage unit outside of Dover, Delaware. The self-storage owners didn’t know what they had on their hands. I doubt they would have sold the unit off at auction if they did. I spend the last year and half restoring her to running condition.” Darnell said with real pride.

“Where did you get the parts for her? I know you didn’t go through Slow Jack’s place.” I asked him kindly.

“I used Phillip Brothers and Dawson Run Salvage over in Lexington. They’re close to my parents’ home.” Darnell told me with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was easier to use dad’s barn for the rebuild. This little beauty is no racer. She’s almost pure stock.”

“If that’s the case what brings you over this way? I mean you’re originally from Pelion aren’t you?” I asked him.

“Word has gotten around about Frank Talbott wanting to challenge you to a race. Especially in the Five Points area of Columbia. When word got out that you were home for a short period of time to recover from your injury at Chiba. Frank started running his mouth about how he was going to force you to accept his challenge. Bobbie you should know that the guy ain’t right in the head. He’s fucking crazy and not above driving dirty. Especially if it means that is the only way he can win. Do yourself a favor and just walk away from the cocksucker, Bobbie. The guy is crazy. I mean totally insane. Off his rocker, the cheese is off his cracker, shithouse rat crazy.” Darnell said in warning.

“Too late. Me and the nutcase have a race in two hours.” I told him honestly. Then I turned feral. “If he wants to play dirty all the better. He’ll find that there is always more than one way to skin a rat.”

“Any chance of talking you out of this Bobbie? The guy’s not right in the head. He’ll try to kill you if he cannot win.” Darnell asked as he explained just how far Frank was willing to go to win a race.

“Then I’ll just have to show him the errors of his ways if he tries.” I snarled. “He won’t be the first shithead whose tried to kill me in a race. He won’t be the last.”

“That is the Roberta McGuire I know and love.” Sharron snarked. “Where has she been I wonder?”

“Oh, my dear Sharron. That brash young lady never went anywhere.” I grinned evilly. “Just ask the shitheads in Formula One and the ISA.”

I turned and walked back to my car as Sharron laughed and Darnell stood there with a confused look on his face. It took me less time to get back to the office and garage. Not because there was less traffic. This time I drove the way I used to drive. The Gladiator wasn’t a high performance sportscar, but it would still perform in a pinch. As I pulled into the parking lot Kelly was pulling my Viper out of the garage area. She smiled at me as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. She held the door for me while holding out her hand with an expectant grin.

“Have a good talk with Sharron?” Kelly asked before kissing me on the cheek.

“You got to learn to drive with the fear, and there ain’t nothing more God damn frightening than driving with a live cougar in the car.” I said quoting one of my favorite comedies about NASCAR. I looked inside my Viper. “Where the fuck is my cougar, Kelly?”

“Love you don’t need one.” Kelly said with a smile as she kissed me one more time. “You ready to put Frank in his place?”

“Ask your parents to watch the kids tonight. I need to grab a few things from the office. Then we’re going to the races.” I told her as I headed inside. Kelly was smiling as she dialed her mother. When I reached my office, I started grabbing posters. I grabbed two of each. I also grabbed the bag that I kept my spare helmet and gloves. This may be a race for pride, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take all the safety precautions I can. As I exited my office Kelly greeted me with a grin.

“Mom will pick the kids up from daycare for us. We got the next twenty-four hours to ourselves.” Kelly said as she wrapped her arms around me. “They just need the Gladiator. Can we drop the keys off at the station?”

“Spider take Kelly’s Gladiator over to the station house for us. The keys are on my desk. Let’s get going. I want, no I need to put Franky boy in his god damned place.” I snarled as I slide behind the wheel of my Viper.

“About fucking time.” For some reason Kelly smiled as she slid into the passenger. As she buckled her seat Kelly asked. “What changed?”

“Let’s just say that I got a kick in the ass and leave it at that.” I grunt and fired over the Viper’s V-10 engine. For the first time in weeks the deep rumble of the engine brought a smile of pleasure to my face. This was where I was meant to be. Behind the wheel of a speed demon. I don’t even think twice as I hit the play button on my I-pod. The sounds of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck pound out of the speakers as I reeve the engine and pop the clutch. Kelly automatically grabs the ‘Oh Shit’ bar as I peel out of the parking lot. Even as I tear down the streets of Darlington, I start to feel alive once more. The fear that has gripped me for the last weeks falls away.

I turn on to Old Milltown road and grin. “Four miles to the sand pit. Two miles to I-twenty. Seven miles back the Knight. Thirteen miles of the twisting two lane asphalt covered backcountry roads. Best time fourteen minutes, twenty-four seconds. Start the clock.”

Kelly just chuckles and pulls out a stopwatch. As I cross the intersection of Old Milltown and Honey Hive roads, she starts the watch. “GO!”

I down shift to second gear and push my engine to the red line. When I made the comment about 13miles of twisting backcountry asphalt covered roads I wasn’t kidding. Of all the roads in Darlington country Old Milltown, Busby Crossing, and Pinecrest are the worst. With Pinecrest road being the most traitorous. I start drifting on the first bend. The traffic is light today. I have a good chance at breaking my record.

For the first 4miles Kelly calls out the turns and spots for oncoming traffic. At the intersection for Busby Crossing I pull a 90-degree drift. For the next 2miles I have an almost flat curve all the way to Pinecrest road. I took that slow even curve at just over 80mph. Kelly calls out my time as we take the left-hand fork for Pinecrest Road. The meanest 7miles of asphalt in all of Darlington county. Four hairpin turns, six quarter mile straightaways, three miles with varying grades of slope. In other words, seven miles of Formula 1 track laid out across a natural landscape. Nothing else mattered to me just then as the opening notes of ‘Control the Redline’ by VNV Nation AMV sounded through the cabin of the car. My grin becomes a true smile. Gone were the shakes I’d been feeling every time I got behind the wheel of my car. Once again, the speed demon under the hood of my car was under my total control. I was going to squeeze every scrap of power I could out of it.

As the entrance to the Darlington Knight’s privately owned track came into view Kelly looked down at the stopwatch. As I pulled a hard 90degree drift into the entrance she called out. “Thirteen minutes thirty-four seconds.”

I started breaking and down shifting as I passed under the grate arm. I started chuckling as I worked the fuck out of my breaks and transmission to come to a controlled stop on the pit road. “Looks like I finally broke my record. I think I’m back.”

Kelly leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Like I said earlier. About fucking time. Now go put that cocksucker in his place, Bobbie.”

With that she climbed out of the car taking my purse with her. “You won’t need this, love. I’ll make sure he has the money or his pink slip.”

I just nod my head and pull out on to the track and up to the starting line. As I wait for Frank to get his shit together, I page through my playlist. I’m looking for a certain song. One that will set the mood for the race. I find it halfway down my racing list. I let the smile gracing my face turn predatory. Gone is the easy going Stockcar racer. In her place is the terror of the roads that has been hidden behind the mask of professionalism for the last three years. Oh, there have been times when my darker half has poked her head out during races around the world. This race was about more than just titles to cars. Frank might not have wanted it, but he forced me into a race that solely about pride for me.

I was slightly surprised when the Mazda RX-7 owned by Lisa Holtz pulled in behind me. I just gave Frank and his Pontiac Sunfire a dismissive snort as he pulled in beside me. He may have modified the fuck out of the engine, transmission and body but it was still no match for the raw power and performance of my Viper. I chuckle as Dan’s 1972 blue Plymouth Barracuda rolled to a stop behind Frank’s Sunfire. I wait with a nasty smile plastered on my face as Kelly steppes into the center of the track.

She cocks her hips, places her left hand on her waits and raises her right arm and hand to shoulder level. “READY!” She calls out pointing at the lined-up cars. Smiling at my nod she raises her arm above her head and calls out. “STEADY!” Then after holding the pose for ten seconds drops her arm. “GO!”

I had kept the revs down as Kelly preformed the countdown for the start but the second, she dropped her arm I dropped the hammer. I left Frank and the others standing still as I powered down the front straightaway. I hit the first turn and drift my way around it as if on ice. When I exited the turn I never looked back. I let the pounding drums, powerful guitar riffs of Sabaton’s Bismarck fill the cockpit of my car and my soul. As I round turn 3, I know that I have the race.

I push my car to its limits and pull back just before going over the edge. With each passing second, I increase my lead by a full car length. Frank thought he was the one pushing buttons. He was right. He pushed the one button he shouldn’t have. The one button that would doing nothing more than pissed me off. He wanted a race. What he was getting was a lesson in manners at high speed. A lesson that I was more than happy to hand out. By the time I crossed the line for the third lap Frank was so far back that it wasn’t even funny. He was having a problem with just keeping up with Lisa in her RX-7 and Dan’s Barracuda. For some reason I doubt they’ll even let him finish the race. Not that I need their help but for whatever reason they have their own axes to grind with Franky boy.

I catch a glimpse of them pinning Frank between them as they enter turn 7 in my review mirror. I got a feeling they’re going to put his ass into the wall on turn 8 or 9. Not that I would be surprised if they did. Frank Talbott has been pushing peoples’ buttons on the street racing circuit for months now. He’s been going on and on about how he is the greatest street racer there is and will ever be. The sad part is he has had a nonstop series of wins that has bolstered this false belief. Until now he hasn’t faced a true challenge. All the drivers he has faced until now have been the second stringers of the local clubs. Today he’s facing the big dogs. AND unfortunately for him I’m the biggest damned dog in the pile. Not even Beth can beat me in a rat race.

I around the final turn and head for the finish line to the sound of Kenny Loggin’s Into the Danger Zone. Even as the first lyrics scream from the speakers, I know that I’m finally healed. The fear that has been plaguing has been replaced with my old confidence behind the wheel of a racecar. As I cross the start finish line for the last lap, I shove the throttle to the floor. I work the gears and breaks as I drive my car to the edge and keep it there for the last lap. I want to do more than just win the race. I want to put up a record track time that will not be broken for years. I set the current record the first time I raced on this track. It has stood ever since. Today I plan on shattering that record.

I check my review mirror one more time. I’m not surprised to Lisa and Dan behind me. What I am surprised to see is Franky nowhere to be seen. The asshole either wrecked or blew his engine. Either way he’s lost the race and if I have my way his car. As I round the turn for the back straightaway, I spot Frank sitting off to the side. That is all I need to see to know that he is going to try something stupid. At less than half the distance to the next turn Frank pulls out onto the track trying to block me. I pull a snap drift to the outside and swing wide around him and pull back in line for the turn. The shit head was trying to force me off the track into the grass.

Too bad for him it didn’t work. Any other street racer might have fallen for his trick, but not me. Not by a long shot. I’ve been placed in hairier situations in the middle of Formula One races on much tighter tracks. I chuckle as I blow passed him and round the first turn for the last section of the track. I may not put a record time but that doesn’t matter now. I’m pissed and Franky boy is going to pay the price. I cross the finish line going full out. I start breaking as I round the first turn. I take my time and use the rest of the track to easy down until I’m all the way back to the start finish line. I wait for Lisa, Dan, and Frank to make their own way around the track back to the line.

As Frank pulls onto the front straightaway, I can tell he’s going to try and run. Not that it will do him any good. The other drivers are already pulling onto the track to block his path. I climbed out of my Viper and stepped into the path of his car. I was leaving him no choice. He either stopped his car or hit me. If it was the latter, then I was pretty sure he won’t live to see the next sunrise. As Franky pulled to a stop, I gave him a snarky smile.

I walked up to him as he climbed out of the car holding out my hand. “Keys.”

“You’re not going to give me a chance to win my car back?” Frank asked.

“Nope. I told you the stakes before you ever left the offices of MRI.” I snapped as I snatched the keys from his hand. “Start walking fuck face.”

Frank just dropped his head and turn to walk away. I didn’t let him go to far with a parting piece of advice. “Before you go Frank let me give you a few words of wisdom. The next time you race someone. Don’t go in believing that you’ll win. Because you keep thinking like that, sooner or later you’ll get someone killed. That type of think is only for the stupid. Real racers know that there is someone out there that is better. It’s not the car that makes the driver. Any driver that believes it is all about the car is looking for an early fucking grave. You want to know why I’m so damned good? It’s because I never made the mistake of placing all my trust in the car. I trust in my skills first and foremost. Understand?”

“That is a bunch of bullshit. Everyone knows that it is the car that makes all the deference. Skill will take you only so far. A more powerful car with the right setup will always win.” Franky snorted. “You just had the better car today. That is all that happened.”

“No Frank. I had you beat before we ever left the starting line. I won before you even pulled onto the track. You had it your head that you had the better car. You believed that your skills were better than mine. You want to know how and why I won. I’ll tell you.” I sighed and turned to look at the other drivers. “I never underestimate another driver. Because a bad threw of Fate’s dice and all your plans go the window. Not even the most skilled and seasoned driver can consider all the variables that happen during a race.”

Dan and Lisa walked up behind me as I was dressing down Frank. He was the first to say anything. “My car may not be a full-blown race, Frank. Yet even I beat your ass out there today. Because I knew the limits of my car and skills. For the last two years you’ve been facing down drivers and cars that you knew you could beat. It gave you an overinflated ego. Do yourself a favor. Go home and stay out of street racing. Because the next time you might not be walking home. You’ll be carried off in a Coroner’s van.”

“We played nice with your ass Frank. There are more than a few drivers around here that would have happily put you into the ditch or a tree. You’ve been strutting around here like you’re the top dog. The truth is you’re nothing more than a poser.” Lisa told him bluntly. “Lose the attitude and build yourself a new car. Then come back and we’ll teach you how to be a real racer. Keep the attitude and you’ll keep walking home.”

I chuckled as Frank’s face filled with storm clouds and stomped off. “For some reason I think you guys are going to have your hands full with that boy. He’s not going to let this blow to his ego go unchallenged. He has way too much pride to use his common sense.”

“That’s not the problem Bobbie.” Dan said as he sighed.

“Then what is his problem?” I asked Dan.

“He believes that he needs to be racing on the professional level. The truly sad part his parents are the ones to blame for his attitude.” I looked over at Lisa as she explained. “My cousin told me all about how his dad was this amateur stockcar racer back in the today. Frank’s father died in a wreck at the old Myrtle Beach Raceway shortly after his fourth birthday. Ever sense then his mother and stepfather have been filling Frank’s head with bullshit about his father being this great driver. When the truth of the matter is the man was a total waste of fucking space behind the wheel of a stockcar. They went so far as tell frank that he is this natural born racer.”

“I’ve heard some fucked up shit in my life.” I sighed as I tossed the keys to the Sunfire to Jim Holzer. “Put it up for auction, Jim. Give the proceeds to the Ronald McDonald House.”

As Kelly walked up to me, I smiled. “As for the numb nut. Fuck him. If he shows his face around here again.”

I left the rest the threat unsaid. The rest of the drivers there today knew that Frank Talbott was now Persona Non Grata in Darlington county. I may not be around much anymore, but my word was still law among the street racers. I had earned the to banish asshole drivers from Knight for one simple reason. I have the most wins on this track than all the other drivers in the area. In short, I was the undisputed Drift Queen for Darlington. No one was going to take that away from me without a fight. Not now, not ever.

As Kelly and I walk back to my Viper I whisper to myself. “Not so long as I can still breath. I will always be Roberta McGuire one of Formula One’s Twin Furies. And nothing will stand in my way to victory. Not even my own fears.”

-----tbc-----