It had been a little over a week since Adaline disappeared. She’d called and left a message on her father’s voicemail during the last race. She knew he wouldn’t be able to answer it. The only thing she said was that she was fine and had sent Mr. Elliot an email giving her notice for personal reasons.
My mind was a blur. I couldn’t sleep, eat or think clearly ever since Adaline left.
“Emmit, you’ve got to stay focused. You’re all over the place.” Waldo’s voice said as it echoed in my helmet.
“Yeah well if that little fucker Newbury would stop bumping me, maybe I wouldn’t get loose. I’m going to pound his fucking face in when I get out of this goddamn racecar.”
“Okay, well I know you’re angry, but try to focus through the anger.”
The spotters voice was next. “Bumper, door, door, bumper, clear.”
I hit the gas and passed another driver. I’d never driven like this before. I was on a mission. I’d never won at Chicago and today I was going to change that.
“Emmit, let’s remember to conserve gas,” Waldo said as his voice invaded my thoughts.
“It’s the chase, Waldo. I’m going to win this.”
Not two seconds later, fucking Malcolm Wallace bumped into my right rear, causing me to slide up the track just enough for that ass hole to get past me. He was now in second and I was running in third.
“That motherfucker!” I shouted as I hit the gas and hit his bumper.
Waldo yelled, “Let’s calm down, buddy.”
“He fucking pushed me out of his way, Waldo.”
My spotter came over the radio again, but I didn’t hear a damn thing he said. All I could focus on was the rear of Malcolm’s car. If I couldn’t pay him back on the track, I’d do it after the race.
“There’s a caution, let’s see what everyone else does. We only have ten laps to go.”
“I’m staying out,” I said matter of fact.
The silence in my car would have been deafening two weeks ago, now I welcomed it.
“Emmit, you need to come in. With four fresh tires, we could take this thing.”
I watched Malcolm as we rounded the turn. Whatever he did, I was doing. Jerking his wheel to make it seem like he was pitting, Malcolm stayed out at the last minute.
So did I.
I could hear Waldo cursing over the radio, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore.
The only thing I cared about left me.
Again.
“You just cost yourself the race, Emmit,” Waldo said with anger in his voice.
I knew my head wasn’t in this race. If I didn’t snap out of it soon, things would turn dangerous.
MY MOUTH DROPPED OPEN WHEN I saw Emmit didn’t pit. I had the team communications pulled up on my phone as my eyes stayed glued to the TV. Glancing down at my phone, I saw my voicemail with one unread message.
It was Stephanie. Why she was calling, I had no idea. Emmit called at least ten times a day, each time leaving a message I had yet to listen to. I needed to clear my head and the more time I had to think about what I saw, the more I questioned what I saw.
The one thing I knew for sure was, Emmit hadn’t been driving well since I left and that filled me with guilt. I’d missed two races since I abruptly left.
“What in the fuck are you doing, Emmit!” my father screamed. “I told you to bring your ass in!”
Things were getting personal between my father and Emmit, and it was my fault.
Emmit laughed. “Yeah well, I decided to do things my way for once.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. I could picture my father now with steam coming from his ears.
The next thing he said broke my heart. “You just cost yourself the race, Emmit.”
“Nothing matters anymore, Waldo. The only thing that mattered to me left me over a week ago.”
My breath caught in my chest as I let Emmit’s words sink in. He hadn’t mentioned me once in the last race. Not that I thought he would.
“Jesus Christ, son. Get your damn heart out of the fucking racecar. You need to be focused, Emmit. You’re going to be the cause of a wreck if you don’t get your head out of your ass!”
I stood quickly and looked around. I had no idea what I was looking for. As I spun around, I looked back at the TV and then down to my phone. Picking up my phone, I opened my voicemail and hit Stephanie’s message.
“Yes, hello. My name is Todd Frank. I’m Emmit’s new assistant. Please kindly remove Stephanie Murphy’s name from this number and replace it with my name. If you need anything or have been waiting on something from Ms. Murphy, please forward that on to me at this number or through email. TFrank@Elliotracing.com. Have a wonderful evening.”
My hand dropped to the side of my body as I let my phone drop from my hand. Where was Stephanie? Did Emmit fire her? Did she step down now that their affair had been found out?
My hands covered my face as I sat down on the sofa. “Just tell me where in the hell, Malcolm is,” Emmit called out as I looked back down at my phone and picked it up.
I searched through my messages. My fingered hovered over Emmit’s last message to me.
Hitting play, I held my breath and waited to hear his voice play over the speaker.
“Hey. I really wish you’d call me back. I’ve been leaving the same message over and over, hoping like hell you’ll listen to one of them. Can’t do it today, I’m tired and I have to go race. Adaline, I love you. It’s always been only you.”
The message stopped playing as I finally remembered to breathe. “Emmit.” I looked back up at the TV. In that moment, I realized the terrible mistake I had made. I let my fear see things that were never there.
My heart felt as if I had betrayed it this last week. Anger and regret consumed me as I thought how I had let Stephanie push me away. I knew Emmit was faithful. Deep in my heart, I had always known it.
Jumping up, I grabbed my purse and rushed out of the hotel room I’d checked into last night. There was somewhere I needed to be, and this hotel was not it.
As I navigated through traffic, I drove as fast as I could. I needed to get to the track. I drove to Chicago with every intention of going to the race and talking face to face with Emmit and asking for the truth. Why it took me over a week to pull my head out of my ass to do it, I’ll never know.
I had the race playing on my car radio and Emmit’s communication still pulled up on my phone.
“And as we approach the checkered flag, it will be number twenty-four, Malcolm Wallace crossing the finish line with the number thirty-seven of Emmit Lewis coming in second. Lewis has not been very quiet over the radio about the fact that he is upset about Wallace’s pass earlier.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I said as I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. Damn it, what is wrong with me?
“I need to talk to, Wallace,” Emmit said over the radio.
Quickly picking up my phone, I hit the home button and said, “Call, Daddy.”
When it rang, I prayed like hell for my father to answer it.
“Adaline!”
“Daddy!” I yelled out.
“Where in the hell have you been? I’m so mad at you right now I could . . . I don’t know what I could do, Adaline Morgan. I have too much shit going on.”
“I know! I know, Daddy. I’ve been stupid. I need to talk to Emmit right away.”
“Yeah well, I’m trying to stop him from doing something stupid.”
Tears began to build in my eyes. This was my fault. If only I hadn’t run. If I had just stopped for two seconds and thought really long and hard about what I thought I had seen.
“I’m in Chicago, Dad. I’m on my way.”
I could hear my father telling people to get out of his way. “Well, you better hurry. He is flying out tonight.”
Damn it. “I’m going as fast as I can. I’m not that far away.”
“How are you getting in?”
“I still have my badge, Mr. Elliot told me he was giving me one month to make my final decision.”