“You see that family, by the trolley stop? I don’t like the way they’re looking at me.”
“They’re probably thinking you need a fashion makeover. Or maybe they’re looking at me. Maybe they think I’m adorable in my pink hat.”
“You don’t know what it’s like. It can get damn scary. Before you know it there are people running at you from all over the place. I don’t have any security here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Hooker was still in the motor oil T-shirt and wrinkled shorts. He was wearing sunglasses, ratty sneakers without socks, and the hat advertising tires. He turned his back to the family and kept his head down. “Tell me when they’re gone. I like my fans. I swear, I really do, but sometimes they scare the crap out of me.”
“They aren’t going away,” I told him. “They’re slowly creeping toward us. They look like a nice family. A couple little boys. And the mother and father are nicely dressed.”
“They’re all nice. It’s just when you put them together and they turn into a mob.”
“Well maybe if you weren’t wearing a hat advertising tires and a T-shirt advertising motor oil…”
“My sponsors give this shit to me. I’m supposed to wear it. And anyway, I’ve got a billion of these T-shirts and hats. What am I supposed to do with them if I don’t wear them?”
“It’s him,” the mother screamed. “It’s Sam Hooker!”
The two kids ran up to Hooker. Hooker turned and smiled at them. Mr. Nice NASCAR Guy.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Hooker said to the kids. “Do you guys like cars?”
The mother had a pen and the father had his hat in his hand. “Would you sign my hat?” he asked Hooker.
A couple more people trotted over. Hooker was smiling at them all, signing whatever was handed to him.
“See,” I said to Hooker, “isn’t this fun? Look how happy you’re making these people.”
“You’re not doing your bodyguard thing,” he said. “You have to keep them back a little so they don’t crush into me. I can’t sign if I’ve got my arms pinned against my chest.”
I looked around. He was right. They were crushing into him, pushed by the people at the back. He was right about the numbers, too. There were suddenly a lot of people trying to get close to Hooker. They were waving hats and napkins and T-shirts and they were yelling at him. “Hooker. Hey Hooker, sign this. Sign this!”
I’d been standing next to him, but somehow I got elbowed aside and shoved to the rear. In a moment’s time I was pushed so far back I couldn’t see Hooker at all. I was looking for an opening to get back in when Rosa and Felicia showed up.
“What’s all the excitement about?” Rosa wanted to know.
“Hooker’s up there, autographing stuff,” I said. “I was supposed to be doing crowd control, but I got pitched out. I’m worried about Hooker. I just saw a woman run by with a piece of his shirt in her hand.”
“We gotta get Hooker away from this mob or there’ll be nothing left of him but a grease spot on the sidewalk,” Rosa said. “There’s people coming from all over.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I tried yelling at them and they laughed at me.”
Rosa hiked her purse up on her shoulder. “Get out of my way. I’ll take care of this.” She leaned forward and shouted at the crowd. “Omigod! It’s Britney Spears! Britney Spears.”
The people at the outermost edge turned to look. A murmur rippled through the mob.
“Now they’re vulnerable,” Rosa said. “Now we gotta ram our way through.”
Rosa went first with her head down. She knocked people out of her way, and she kept going. “Britney Spears is back there,” she kept saying. “Did you see Britney?”
Felicia followed Rosa. And I followed Felicia.
By the time we reached Hooker he’d climbed onto the roof of a Subaru. He only had one sneaker, and his hat and his shirt were gone.
The Subaru was surrounded by fans trying to grab Hooker. They were still shoving things at him to get signed. The fans were all yelling things like: “This is for my son. He’s dying. Brain cancer…It’s his birthday…It’s for my mother. She tried to kill herself when you lost at Taledega…It’s for my daughter. She sold her trailer so she could come to Daytona to see you race, and now she’s homeless. It would mean a lot to her if you’d sign my sock…I haven’t got any paper. Could you sign my forehead?…Could you sign my right breast? Look I’ve got it out for you. Here’s a pen.”
Rosa and Felicia and I climbed onto the Subaru with Hooker.