Webster’s dictionary defines Speed as the fallowing: the rate of change of position along a straight line with respect to time over a set distance. In other words, the quicker you can get from one place to another. The question is what do you, do when your family has spent the last two generations in search of ways to accomplish this goal faster and faster. Would do you do when the family business is the search for more Speed. For Robert ‘Robby’ McGuire the answer is easy. You grab your sister and strap on a pair of Formula One racecars then go for broke.

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Chapter 13
Monday morning, Melbourne, Australia.

I was looking forward to the 11 day break between Melbourne and Bahrain. The last few days had been a real challenge. Until now I never really thought about the hectic schedule that Formula 1 drivers deal with on a monthly base. Last night’s festivities following the race really took it out of me. I mean I never thought that winning our first race ever would be such a big damned deal. I do know that the guys on the pit crew were ready to rumble in the garage area after the race. It seems that a few of the long time drivers were upset with me and Beth.

While we were over in the winner’s circle a few members of Caldera’s and that mutt, Alveres, crews got it into their heads that we cheated. The problem wasn’t that we cheated, we just out drove their sorry assed drivers. And they didn’t like that fact. If it hadn’t been for the Marshals I know for a fact that there would have been an all-out brawl in the garage. One that my crew would have won. They have already had two fights since we arrived in Melbourne. They won both, thanks to Tony’s training. I chuckled when I heard that the Marshals had to threaten both teams with penalties if they didn’t return to their assigned areas.

I don’t understand the other teams’ beef with us. We’re racers, just like them. Yet they seem to think that they’re better than us, just because we’re an all American team. We proved that we can hang with them during Qualifiers and pounded their collective asses during the race. Yet they still won’t show us the respect we’ve earned. The knock on my room door brought my thoughts to the here and now as Kelly opened the door.

I turned to see mom and dad walking right behind Beth. Dad chuckled at seeing me standing on the balcony. “Still trying to wrap your head around the attitude of the other teams, Bobbie?”

“Pretty much, dad. I just can’t figure out why they hold us in such contempt.”

“No shit. We go out there and run a clean race. We win the damned thing, and those pricks want to claim we cheated. While their OWN team mates go out of their way to block us at every turn. Use every type of dirty barely legal team tactic, going so far as to try blocking our pit box. If we hadn’t resorted to using tactics we learned while rat-racing they would’ve run us off the track. That fuck-stick Reynolds damned near took me out on turn twelve with that side job he pulled.” Beth was just as pissed off as I was.

Mom sighed. “I hate to say this, kids. But they will never respect you until you have won a championship. Remember most of these men think that American drivers can only drive in straight lines with an occasional left hand turn. It’s not until they lose their rides or think they can show the NASCAR Drivers how to really drive that they learn their lesson.”

“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with anything?” Kelly asked.

“Nine times out of ten they get out there and find that those good old boys play ruff. They have no problems with putting an asshole into the wall, Kelly. You should know that. After all you grew up in Darlington.” Dad answered her with a smile before he turned to me. “We need to have a talk.”

“Okay dad. I know that I screwed the pooch out there. How bad is the engine?”

“Believe it or not, that engine is still in good shape. So is the transmission. What I want to know is how you were able to hold that line through the drifts in those hairpin turns? You were sideways for more than half the damned lap but still kept gain speed.” Beth and I started to chuckle at dad. “Okay what have I missed?”

“Mr. McGuire, Bobbie and Beth have been pulling those kinds of stunts for the last two years on every backroad in Darlington County. They went out there today and raced the way they always have on the backroads. I think the only time they have ever lost a race is to each other.” Kelly answered him.

“Not quite Kelly. I’ve lost to Harry Barns, Bill Hatcher, and Steve Arbuckle.” Beth named off the three guys that had beaten her repeatedly. She then held up her other hand with two fingers. “There are only two drivers that have ever beaten Bobbie on a steady base. Lucas Stills, and Billy Hart.”

“Wait. Bobbie lost to Lucas and Billy?” Tony asked.

“Yup. Three times to Lucas and twice to Billy. If I could ever get those guys to give up running moonshine for their uncles I would offer them a chance at a NASCAR ride.” I told them all honestly. I looked over at mom and smirked at her sour look. “Yes mom. I know that I shouldn’t be rat-racing.”

“Roberta, it’s not your rat-racing that has me upset. It’s your carelessness that has me worried. We both know just how dangerous that type of racing is. You pull a hairpin flick or Compton slide at the wrong time on the wrong turn you wind up hurt or worse dead. These tracks are nowhere near as unforgiving as the backroads back home.” I could see where mom was coming from, but she had to see where I was coming from.

“Mom, I know that already. Did I take a few chances yesterday? Sure. Were they gambles? Big time. Would I do them again? I haven’t the foggiest clue. All I know is that I’ll race my way every time. They don’t like it then they can kiss my ass. I’m not breaking the rules nor am I pulling some unsportsman like conduct bullshit. Just because I know how to get a Formula One car to drift and will use those skills to win is not against the rules. Like the old saying goes if you ain’t cheating you ain’t trying. Only I’m not cheating. I read the rule book front to back.” I know it was a fine line but what the hell. I was right, and mom knew it.

“That is not the point Bobbie. I know that you can handle yourselves and the cars out on the track. It’s the other eighteen dumbasses that I’m worried about. Some of them are not going to take to your intimidator tactics too kindly. Or to you two using Hendricks team tactics. They might just place a bounty on your heads. If that happens all civility will go out the window.” I could hear the worry in mom’s voice over that happening.

“Let them come mother.” Beth snarled. Beth’s sudden change in attitude grabbed mom and dad’s attention. “It’s like Bobbie said. We ran a clean race and those two fuck sticks still tried to blame their poor performance on us. If they can’t show us the respect we’ve earned, then we’ll take it by force on whatever track we’re on.”

“No offence Mrs. McGuire, but someone has to teach those jackasses some manners. If not us, then who?” Kelly smirked.

Mom threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, the hell with it. I can’t win this fight. You girls are going to be the death of me yet.”

Dad just chuckled. Over the years of his marriage to Jewellianna McGuire, he had learned a few things. The first of which was to stand back as she handled Beth. With me now under her direct care as well, Robert knew that her work load doubled. The second thing he had learned was to just accept the way things were and to go with the flow.

“NOT ONE WORD ROBERT!” Mom whipped around and glared at dad. “YOUR daughters are out there, rat-racing with professional drivers. We have enough problems dealing with the other teams. We don’t need them antagonizing the other drivers. That is the LAST thing we need them doing.”

“Wrong mom.” I snapped. When she looked at me I smiled. “They expect us to race the way they would. We’re not European drivers. We’re American Drivers. We grew up cutting our teeth on NASCAR and street racing. They expect us to play by the rules, and we will. Only we’ll stretch, bend, and twist the rules to their limits. Like you have told me more than once. If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying. Only we’re not cheating. Just read the rule book.”

Mom gave me the ‘look’. You know the one I’m talking about. The one that says ‘you’re pushing the limits’. I waited for her to lambast me, then all of a sudden mom just sighed. She walked up to me and gave me a hug.

“You’re right Bobbie. I’m just worried that the other drivers will paint a target on your back. These men and women will not play nice once they figure out how to deal with you and your sister.” I heard the note of worry in mom’s voice. “Sooner or later they will come after you.”

I grinned when I heard this. “Let them come, mom.”

She pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Why are you looking forward to that? What do you have up your sleeve?”

“If they think what I did yesterday was playing dirty then they need to go back to school. Earnhardt, Gordon, Johnson, Andriy, Petty, showed NASCAR how to trade paint. I’ll show Formula One how to trade rubber and drift. These monkey nuts have never sat down and read the rules or studied them the way I have. Everything I did yesterday was will within the rules.” I just smirked. “It’s not my fault that they don’t know how to drift.”

“WAIT ONE DAMNED MINUTE!” Mom placed her hands on my shoulders. “Are you telling me that you intentionally drifted though those corners?”

“Yup!” I let the mirth that I felt fill my voice. “Nothing wrong or illegal with mixing driving styles. In fact, it is almost encouraged.”

“How?” Mom demanded.

“In nineteen-ninety-one, Aguri Suzuki for Lola Ford, was known for their drift style driving. In F1, Suzuki achieved one podium and scored a total of eight championship points. When he retired, he was the second most successful Japanese driver ever in F1 just behind Satoru Nakajima, but Takuma Sato and Kamui Kobayashi have since passed them both. All four of who are known for their drift racing influence style. It was their driving style that forced the FIA to change their rules to accept this style of racing.” I chuckled at the look on mom’s face. I had just handed her the key to our success.

“She got you Jewels. If there is one thing Bobbie is good at is bending the rules without breaking them. You should know this by now.” Dad quipped.

“No, Robert. That is where you’re wrong.” Mom rounded on dad. “This is one time that you should have warned me. After all, for the last eighteen years you have been the one to influence her more than me.” She huffed.

“Just what does that mean?” Dad asked quietly.

“Simple. You have had more to do with raising Bobbie than I have for the past eighteen years. After all I’ve only had ONE daughter until three months ago. NOW, I have two.” I had to fight back the laugh that threatened to come. The glare from mom made sure that I kept my mouth shut. There was no way that I was going to let my smartass bone run free just then. “As for you, YOUNG lady. Do not spout statistics to me.”

I just gulped and nodded my head. “Yes ma’am.”

I watched as mom got her anger under control before continuing with her ass chewing lecture. “Those drivers are going to do more than just come after you Bobbie. They’re going to do everything they can to put you into the wall. Sooner or later their numbers are going to win.”

“That is what we’re hoping for mom.” At her look of confusion, I had to give her a smiled. “Mom, we want them to come after me.”

“Why?” was all mom and dad asked.

“We know that you’ve never been happy with our rat-racing, but the skills we learned during those races are an advantage now.” I looked over at Beth as she started to laying out our racing strategy. “We came up with a strategy that works in situations where we’re out numbered. One of us draws the attention of the other drivers while the other goes for the win. It takes two drivers to pull off correctly. It’s called the fox and bunny.”

“The down side is that the one acting as the fox has a target painted on their ass the entire time of the race. The bunny is the one to go for the win because the other drivers forget about them.” I decided to explain the downside of the strategy. I knew that she needed to know.

“So, you went out there and made yourself a target on purpose. Are you sure you can handle the pressure that is going to come down on you?” I could hear the worry in mom’s voice.

“Mom please, trust me. I know exactly what I’ve done. I can handle those monkey nuts on any track they want to play on. As bad as they’ll get, none of them will come at me with anything near what I face on a Saturday night. Especially in downtown Columbia at Five-points. Where it is winner takes all and the only rule is there are no rules. These asshats only think they know what I can do. I haven’t even begun to breakout the nastiness.” I let the growl of righteous anger fill my voice. “If they won’t respect me. Then they will by god fear me. Because if they don’t they will find out the hard way that I don’t play games on any level. Especially behind the wheel.”

Mom and dad gave me dubious looks at hearing this, but Kelly, Tony, and Beth just chuckled. “Look, mom, dad, I can handle the target being on my back. I’ve been here before. Only the last time I was fighting cancer. They can’t hold a candle facing the Grim Reaper day after day.”

The sigh that escaped me was one of frustration. “The only time I feel truly alive is behind the wheel of a car, mom. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. The faster I go the more alive I feel anymore.”

“Wait a damned minute. Are you telling me that you drive the way you do just, so you can feel alive?” Mom demanded. When I didn’t answer her, she almost took my head off. “Does Sharron know about this?”

“Mom, Bobbie has been driving like that for the last two years. Before you go screaming your head off at me, yes I knew.” Beth said from across the room.

“And you didn’t feel that I needed to know this Elizabeth?” Mom snapped. “How long has your sister been pushing the edge like this? Do you even know?”

“DAMN IT MOM!” I screamed. Once she looked at me I took a deep breath. “I’m not on the edge. I’m nowhere near to pushing the edge.”

“Then what do you call it? Because you’re certainly not driving with your head in the game. Not if you’re out there, dancing with the Reaper at a buck-fifty.” Dad growled out behind me. “Come on, talk to us here Bobbie. What is really going on in that head of yours?”

I sighed. “Dad, I swear. I’m fine. If I think that I’m getting to far out of hand I’ll call Sharron. I always do.”

“Alright, we’ll table this conversation for now.” Dad said then turned to mom when she went to argue. “I said table it Jewellianna.”

For once mom didn’t argue with dad. Then again this has to be one of the few times I’ve heard dad use her full name. Normally he just calls her Jewels, Jewell, or Julie, but never, ever, Jewellianna. He only ever used her full name like that when he was pissed off. For some reason I got the very distinct impression that dad was not pissed at her though. The look he gave me let me know that we would be continuing this conversation in private later. And it would just be the two of us. Like the old days when it was one of our father and son talks. Ones where dad carried a ball bat to get his point across. I may be his daughter now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t cut my ass.

“Alright, Robert. I’ll let this go, but she talks with Sharron about this, not tomorrow, TODAY. Are we in agreement?” Mom wasn’t going to back down on this I could already tell.

“She will talk with Sharron about this when she makes her call later on tonight. Today the girls have to put on their game faces and deal with the press conference in a few hours. Not to mention they have to go to that victory party at three. Kelly and Tony need to be down at the pits to help get the gear broke down and the cars ready to ship. After that they have four days with the team to sight see. It’ll do them both some good to get out of their heads before the next race.” I couldn’t believe what dad was telling mom. Then again, I’m not surprised. When he put his foot down mom usually just gave him a kiss and said, ‘yes dear.’

“Fine. You made your point Robert. I’ll let it go for now.” She looked over at me. “Like your father said. We’ll be picking up this conversation later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then what dad said about the press hit me. “What press conference are you talking about dad?”

“The one that Mr. Gunderson arranged for today. You get to talk with Motor World, SPEED, TNT, CBBS, BBC, and a few damned others. The only good thing is those bloodsuckers from ESPN, and Turner won’t be there.” Dad growled.

“Dad will you please tell us what your beef is with the Main stream sports networks? I mean all we ever heard is how they’re a bunch of bloodsuckers. Never the reason for that hard-on hate.” Beth asked him what I always want to know. I mean really hated the main stream press.

“Before you or your sister were born Bobbie there was a driver that those jackals destroyed for no other reason than they could.” Dad snapped. Seeing the look of disbelief, he sighed. “Sorry, but you didn’t deserve that. My reason for hating for the press is a personal one. One that goes back to just after your mother and I got married. The driver they ruined was a good friend of mine and your mother’s.”

“Why did they go after him dad? What did he do that got the jackals on his back? It’s not like he committed murder.” I was really confused now.

“The driver tested hot for pain killers. Pain killers that he had been proscribed by his doctor. The problem came when he showed up for his first race where he was able to drive. He went through the normal testing like all drivers. When he showed positive the marshals informed him that he could not race until he tested negative. The driver had no problem with this and even offered to take off the rest of the season. Well, a jackal for ESPN got ahold of the test results. Instead of verifying their facts the asshole just ran with the story saying the driver was a drug addict.” I could hear the anger in dad’s voice over the actions of that reporter.

“Let me guess the rest of the story. That reporter basically tried the driver in the court of popular opinion. The driver lost more than just his ride. How long was it before he gave up?” I knew the driver he was talking about. The man finally gave up and drove off the side of a bridge blind drunk. Not that I blame the guy. The way people were pulling away from him he would never have gotten another ride in any sport.

“Faster than either your mother or I could help. He lost everything thanks to that asshole. I would give anything for just five minutes alone with him.” Dad stood there cracking his knuckles while mom just buffed her nails. I could tell that if they ever had the chance that reporter would never live to see the sunrise if they got their hands on him. “Remember they will show you girls no mercy. Roberta, you are especially at danger.”

“Yeah, if they ever find out that I’m still technically a male they’ll be all over my ass.” Then I started to chuckle. “Just more fuel for the fire, I guess. Well let them come because they’ll find that I fight dirty. On more than just a race track or behind the wheel of a car.”

Dad gave me a strange look then chuckled. “Just below the surface. No matter how hard you’ll try, you’ll always be that hard charging ass kicking name taking little shit that used to run around the shop.”

“Let ‘em figure out my secret dad. I don’t care. Besides, sooner or later one of them monkey nuts will get wise and head for Darlington to do a hometown hero bit on me. I’m surprised they haven’t already got three or four slugs crawling around back sniffing around for whatever they can find about me.” I figured that I might as well point out the white elephant in the room. “I know that there is one panty sniffing jackboot in Darlington already.”

“How do you figure that?” Mom asked.

I held up my phone and showed her the text messages from the gearheads, and the rest of the guys back home. “The nice thing about having friends in low places. They tend to keep the riff-raff in line.”

My parents just chuckled. Kelly though handed over her phone with a mile wide smile. “Don’t forget about the sorority girls. They really do hate it when someone gets more attention than they do. I figure that anyone sent in to sniff around for info on Bobbie they’ll get an earful. Right after they get pounded on for making a pass at them by their boyfriends.”

“Wait! Won’t that cause Bobbie more problems?” Dad asked. Beth, Kelly, and Tony started to chuckle. “Okay, what did I miss?”

“Dad this is one time that the power of the green eyed monster is far more powerful than the power of fame. Never let it be said that the sororities ever let an outsider do their dirty work. In fact, they can get downright nasty, let alone meaner than a rattlesnake with a twist in its tail, when outsiders going pocking their noses in where they don’t belong.” Beth answered with a smirk.

“She ain’t joking boss.” Tony said with a chuckle. “But that isn’t the worry. The worry is when those gals get inventive.”

“Inventive? Just what does that mean?” Dad asked of Tony.

Mom came to my lead pit crew member’s rescue. “This is one time where you just need to go with the flow dear. Remember that angelic faces can hide mean streaks nastier than the big one at Tally.”

“Come on guys time to face down the rats in their nest.” I had spotted the time and knew that we had to get going. “I actually figured they’d be hunting us down before now.”

“How do you figure that?” Mom asked me as I grabbed my purse.

“Mom, we took two of the top ten spots in the Qualifiers. Then we go and win our first race in our rookie years. Something that has only been done fifteen other times in the history of the sport. You guys got to remember we came out of nowhere. We’re the unknowns. Of course, they’re going to want to know everything about us. Including the size of our panties.” My smartass bone was now in full effect. “I think I let them know that I’m wearing my magical power panties from Vickie’s today.”

I timed my remark just right as both Tony, and dad were taking a drink of coffee at the same time. Their spit-takes happened in unison. Which were followed by some rather healthy coughing fits. Mom, Kelly, and Beth joined me in an all-girl giggle fit.

“That was just not right, Bobbie. You trying to kill me and your sister’s boyfriend? No, wait, I know what you’re up to. You’re going for pure shock.” Dad gave me the gambit eye and chuckled.

I just nodded my head and headed out the door. The six of us took the elevator down. I wasn’t expecting the rush of fans still in the hotel. Beth and I must have signed two hundred autographs between the elevator and the conference room. I know that my hand felt like it was going to fall off by the time we reached the conference room. I was so thankful for Mr. Gunderson and his people showing as we approached the doors.

“Beth, Bobbie, I’m so sorry. If I had known you were on your way down I would have met, you at the elevators.” I could have sworn the man was besides himself. I could tell that the number of fans still clamoring for our autographs and pictures had thrown him off his game.

“Relax, Mr. Gunderson this is one time that no body could have foreseen the repercussions of yesterday’s win. I got a feeling that tonight’s little victory party is going to get a little out of hand. Especially if we don’t take precautions to ensure that it doesn’t.” Mom told the man.

“How do you figure that Mrs. McGuire? Your team is one of the most highly disciplined that I have ever had the pleasure of dealing with.” We could all tell that Gunderson was not used to dealing with a pack of red-necks.

“It’s not our team that you need to worry about Gunderson. It’s the other teams. More than a few of them are pissed that our girls took first and second place yesterday. Three teams have already tried to have our cars impounded for using illegal engine and transmission parts. The drivers for those same three teams have lobbied protests for unsportsmanlike driving by our girls. I figure those jackasses will try to crash the party tonight.” I couldn’t believe what dad was saying at first. Then I got to thinking about what he and mom were telling me in my room.

“AHHH! I see what you mean now. The young ladies being the new drivers on the grid haven’t ‘earned’ their win yet in the eyes of the other drivers.” Gunderson just sighed. “It is truly a sad thing. Such jealousy is unbecoming of professional drivers. Do the NASCAR drivers have the problem?”

“In truth I have to say no. For most NASCAR drivers it all comes down to win or go home. They get out there and drive for the love of the sport in most of their cases. There are a few of them that are out there to carry on family traditions. Traditions that go back decades. For them a rookie driver getting their first win is a big thing. To gain that win on the first race of the season is amazing. None of them hold it against the rookie for getting their first win on the first race of the year. Hell, they’re more like to come over and hand the kid a cold beer on national TV, shake hands, and then go get ready for next weekend. There’s not a whole lot of this you’re not a professional unless you work your way up through the ranks bullshit. For them, if you have a ride on their circuit then you earned it, period.” I was amazed at the way dad was laying out the attitude of NASCAR drivers.

“More than that Herr. Gunderson, NASCAR drivers compete on a level playing field. The cars are a lot like Formula One cars. They may have different manufacture seals on the front, but they are all the same underneath.” Mom was smiling as she explained NASCAR to Gunderson.

“I had no idea that the NASCAR drivers were such professionals. Maybe I should spend some time at our American plant over the summer and see a few of the races.” Gunderson said as he led us towards the front of the room. I know all about the Mercedes-Benz plant outside of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I also know that the nearest track to that plant was two hours away and one of the fastest Superspeedways, Talladega. If he sees a Tally race he might not want to come back to Formula One and I need him.

“If I might make a suggestion sir.” At his nod I smile. “If you want to see a NASCAR race for the first time, then there is only one race to see. The Daytona Five-hundred. It is the first race of the year and the oldest. After that you need to see a race at Darlington, then Bristol, before you go see a race at Talladega. We have a saying about the races at Talladega. It’s not if but when. By that we mean the big one. When those wrecks happen they normally take half the field with them.”

“Good God! How many cars is that? Five to ten?” Gunderson was thinking along the lines of Formula Races with their twenty cars.

“Herr. Gunderson, there are forty to forty-three cars in every NASCAR race every weekend.” Mom told him and then she chuckled at his look of stunned disbelief. “Oh, and one other thing. Bobbie forgot to tell you that the average race speed at Talladega is one-hundred-ninety-five miles per hour.”

“That’s just short of three-hundred-fourteen kilometers per hour.” I told him before he had a chance to run the numbers in his head. “And Herr. Gunderson I’ve held that thin line when I earned my ride with your company.”

“You have driven at such a speed? Over one-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour.” Gunderson stared at me in wonder.

“Not only did she crack the buck-fifty she set records for both Formula One and NASCAR. Make no mistake, Herr. Gunderson, when our daughters race, they leave nothing behind, and lay it all out on the track. They want something, don’t get in their way. You do, you’ll end up with rubber going up your back. Because they won’t swerve, they’ll just run you over.” Dad smirked.

Gunderson just shook his head and headed for the podium to start the interview. I took the chair on his right side while Beth took the left side chair. I knew that there would be questions at the end of Gunderson’s little speech. Questions that I would have to answer. He opened the interview with a brief recap of yesterday’s race and our stunning win. I want to correct him when he said that we had done the impossible with our win. I knew the accusation was coming the moment the reporter stood up and shouted.

“What of the allegations that the McGuire sisters cheated? Or that there was no way that rookies like them should have been able to win in the first place?” I wanted to smack the asshole. “It’s not like the accusers have a valid point. I mean no rookie has ever won their first race.”

“Not true sir. The truth of the matter is that rookies have won their first race more now than was common in the earlier years of our sport. The difference is we are having fewer and fewer rookies each year.” I wanted to kiss Gunderson just then. He had come prepared for that question at least.

“What of the charges of cheating? That they were using illegal engine parts.” The asshole wasn’t going to give up unless he could prove that we cheated.

“I’ll answer that question Herr. Gunderson.” I said as I looked over at the reporter. I figured out what was up his ass and who had sent him in here to give us a ration of shit. “Sir, our engines are within legal limits. Our team tactics are one-hundred percent within regulations. At no time did we break the rules of conduct on or off the track. Unlike you’re butt buddy Caldera who went out of his way to use illegal blocking, try to force other drivers off the track, and just about every other nasty trick in the book.”

“HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF SHOWING FAVORTISM?” The man screamed out.

“I never said you were showing favoritism. I just pointed out the fact that you’re a fan of a total, jackass, who can barely drive. To be honest with you I’m surprised that he still has a ride.” I gave the reporter a hard look. “Before you go digging into my hometown record I won’t.”

“And just what does that mean, little girl?” The reporter smirked. “Got something to hide back there in the wilds of South Carolina? Like maybe an unwanted pregnancy or illegitimate lover?”

The room went quiet as the grave as Tony and dad both started for the asshole. I held up my hand and stopped them both. “Sir, if I was you, I won’t even hint at printing something like. You see, Americans get very protective over their hometown heroes. And when they have already beaten something like cancer, like me at a young age, they get downright mean when it comes to those heroes. You go sticking your nose into my business, I won’t be held responsible for the actions of my fans.”

“How dangerous could a bunch of backwards, illiterate, morons be?” The reporter popped off. “I’m protected by the First Amendment in your nation.”

Beth, mom, dad, Kelly, and Tony, started to laugh. When the reporter looked over at them Mr. Gunderson also chuckled as I gave the answer. “Before you go routing around in someone’s backyard buddy you need to think twice. Because that Amendment you and your buddies in the press love to drag out every time someone fights back isn’t worth shit when you go pissing off the wrong person. Only in this case you’ll be pissing off a whole bunch of wrong persons. People, who know how to use firearms.”

The threat was clear as a bell. Stay out of my backyard or get hurt. I knew that I wasn’t the most popular girl back home, but I wasn’t flat out hated. After this past weekend my popularity was bound to jump through the roof. If these assholes think they can pressure me or my friends into give them scandal material they’re in for a massive surprise. Because there is one thing that is very true in the deep South. They protect their heroes. Until their heroes do something to piss off their hometown. All I’ve done is a little illegal street racing and deal with the side effects of experimental chemotherapy drugs. Nothing earthshattering there.

“Next question please?” Herr. Gunderson called out to the gathered reporters. “Yes, Hans. You have a question for one of the young ladies.”

“Thank you, yes I do have question. Who came up with your team tactics, ladies? I have to say. I have never seen such tactics like that before.” I smile at the man’s polite way of digging for confidential info.

“If you’re asking about where we learned to drive the pants off of our rivals on the track it’s simple. That is how we drive back home on the backcountry roads. If you obey the posted speeds, you’ll never get anywhere.” Beth answered for us. All while lying through her teeth.

“That doesn’t explain how you two were able to pull off those passing maneuvers the way that you did.” Another reporter pointed out.

“Yeah, if you think you can just drive from Darlington to Myrtle Beach without having to pass one car you need to see a shrink. And half of those cars belong to idiot tourists that are lost. So, you either learn how to pass on the curves at speed or spend all day staring at the south bound end of a north bound mule. It’s nothing that any teenager in South Carolina cannot do on a clear day.” Beth told them all. I wanted to bust out laughing at the way she was down playing our skills.

Over the next hour we answer their questions and kept the reporters at bay when it came to my past. When Gunderson finally called a halt to the conference it was just before one o’clock. We all headed over to the hotel restaurant for lunch. I was looking foreword to being back home for a few days before heading for Bahrain. I really need my McD’s fix.

When we headed for the victory party I wanted to laugh. Standing in front of the doors were the clowns from yesterday. The ones that wrecked their cars or lost to me out right. I knew what they wanted, and they weren’t going to get it. Not from me anyway.

“Whatever happened yesterday is done and over with. Leave it where it belongs gentlemen. On the track. You can’t do that then I suggest that you walk away now. Before things get messy.” I felt that I needed to warn them outright. I knew that Tony, and dad would hurt them in ways that they couldn’t recover from in time for the rest of the season.

Caldera got right up in my face. “You caused me a race with all of your cheating little girl. You may have conned the marshals, but we know that you cheated. Now you can go to them a tell the truth or you’ll pay for it on the track. The choice is yours.”

Mine and Beth’s plan was working better than I had hoped. These idiots were coming at me just like we had hoped. “Bring it on assholes.”

Caldera blinked twice and backed away. I could tell that he had figured to intimidate me. Only problem was I had faced my death along time ago. Him and his butt buddies were nothing to me. Tony stepped up besides me cracking his knuckles. “Can I put these assholes in the ground now, boss?”

“Let them go Tony. They’re not worth it. Besides, once we get back on the track they’ll find out that they are nothing but a bunch of wimpy assed losers. Losers that we’re going to pound for the rest of the season.” Beth had placed her hand on Tony’s shoulder and pulled him back. I watched as Caldera got the hint and led his buddies away from the door to the party.

With them out of the way I sighed. “Well sis, it looks like we got under their skin. Do you think that they’ll come out to play or will we need to smoke them out like the rats they are?”

“I say we forget being civil sis. Let’s just smoke their asses and be done with it the mess now.” There was a pissed off note in Beth’s voice. One that I’ve heard on more than one occasion. Sadly I agreed with her.

-----tbc-----