Pole Position (Country Roads 2)

Snickers came at her from all the way around. “Shit.”

“Damn,” one driver said, transmitting through the airwaves loud and clear. “Whenever you want it that early, you come see me.”

She recognized that voice and she’d also put a face with the body she’d seen the night before. She wasn’t sure why she thought of it now, but she fired back with, “David Lambert, is that you?”

“I’m touched. She acknowledges the little guy,” David said, apparently starting to take stock in what others around him believed. He hadn’t won a race, and he wasn’t going to win one. All he cared about was the party.

“About that,” she said, realizing hundreds, if not thousands were listening in. “I wanted to let you know I saw your little punch-and-go last night outside my window.”

“Huh?” David was dumbfounded. As usual.

“My trailer is set up near one of the spotlights, hon. I saw the outline of that thing clear as day. ‘Little guy’ sums it up.”

Laughter and outright cackling filled the lines then.

“Damn it, Princess!” Marty screamed out. “Get your head out of the gutter.”

David grunted. “One of these days, you’re gonna be on here teasing about what you’d do with a guy if you had one and somebody out there—somebody who doesn’t know you as well as we do—is gonna look you up.”

“I’ll still be watching for you, David,” she teased. “At least if I’m with you, I know you ain’t gonna hurt me with that thing.”

The outrageous laughter continued.

Princess looked over in the pits and saw Marty throw his headset. Well, it wouldn’t be racing if he didn’t throw it at least once. And her name wouldn’t be Princess Sterling if she didn’t start or end a race with a fine.

“You’ll see me today, baby,” David promised. “And you’ll catch the hell you deserve. Paybacks are a whore. They bring it when everyone is watching.”

“Then bring it, babe. Bring it hard.”

Marty said, “Princess, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Time to acknowledge Marty. “Hey, Marty! There’s my man!” she called out, forever the flirt.

“Where the hell were you when I was trying to get through to you privately a minute ago? I was afraid you’d stroked out in this heat or something.”

Evidently, Marty would rather hear her bitching about being hot instead of on the radio giving the other drivers a difficult time.

“I’m right here. Where else would I be?”

“There for a minute, I was beginning to think we’d lost you. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m a winner,” she reminded him. “I seem to remember someone telling me to always remember that. Are you doubting me now, Marty?”

“Not at all, doll,” he said, clearing his throat. “You got this, little woman.”

“You’re damn straight,” she said, thinking of Brant and Colt. “I’m ready to bring it home for the team.”

A few seconds later, the Master of Ceremonies said those coveted words, “Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines.”

The track came alive with the roaring sound of massive horsepower, and a few minutes later, Princess was fighting to keep her pole position. She got up in turn four and was so worried about who was on her ass, she didn’t see old Neil “Cocky” Cochran until he sped by her. She spent the next few minutes running in second place, chasing his sorry ass around the track.

“Wreck up ahead! Wreck up ahead! Stay low! Stay low!” Marty screamed.

A caution flag came out and she pulled into the pits, heeding Marty’s advice and coming in for new tires.

“You’re doing great out there today, baby girl. Hang with us. Hang with us.”

“How many were in that wreckage back there?” she asked, wondering which contenders were knocked out.