[kevin harvick, beanie baby, air freshener, springsteen and remote control]

God, that stinking air freshener was giving him a fucking headache. He stormed through the motorcoach in search of the outlet with the scent of roses and meadows and raindrops was coming from. He crawled under the table and extracted the plastic piece with a grunt and threw it across the trailer, where it ricocheted off some cabinets with a crack.

He hated rainouts. He hated being stuck inside with the press looming. He'd ducked into Harvick's trailer to avoid the pit crew gang because his own trailer was too far away.

Could Harvick have shittier games for his X-Box? He thought to himself, rifling through the stack of games with disgust. He grabbed the remote control balanced on a stack of Car and Driver magazines, napkins, and an old shirt and began flicking through the channels. ESPN, ESPN 2, Speed, CBS, Fox. ESPN, ESPN 2, Speed, CBS, Fox.

He flopped down on the sofa and tried to find MTV.

Ooh, Springsteen.

He settled onto the cushions and listened to the E Street Band play behind the Boss as he examined the coach again with interest.

Every trace of her was gone. Harvick had said she had disappeared without a trace, gone back home to move out of their place. But, Jesus, everything was gone.

He bet even the ice trays from the fridge were gone.

He stood up to find out for himself when the door banged open. Kevin stormed in and shut the door with a kick of his foot.

"What are you doing here?" Kevin asked moodily. "Get out."

"It's fuckin' rainin', dude."

"So what?" Kevin said, shrugging out of his jacket. "I'm sure the press would love to entertain you."

"I came in here to get away from them and to see if you were okay." He said. "Jesus, excuse me for fuckin' caring."

"I'm fine. Fuck off." Harvick growled. "I've got my stuff, and she's gone. Not a fuckin' beanie baby or Cosmo or tampon in sight. Life is good."

"Dude…" He began, then trailed off.

Kevin whirled around. "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?" He asked.

"Did you know she was fucking somebody else?" Kevin asked, his voice catching slightly.

He closed his eyes. Oh yeah, he knew. He's the one that had found her goin' at it the first time – in his trailer, no less. He's the one she had begged not to tell anyone. He's the one Kevin had gone to first after Delana had broken the news. He was always first.

"Yeah. I knew." He admitted.

"When?" Kevin spat.

"Before you did. I'm sorry." He said. "She begged me not to say."

"Thanks for bein' a fuckin' friend." Kevin murmured.

"I didn't want you to get hurt." He said.

"Who was it?" Kevin asked, his eyes shining with pain and anger. "Who?"


"WHO?" Kevin screamed and he stepped back.

"You want to list alphabetically or chronologically?" He asked. Kevin charged forward and grabbed him by the collar.

"Was it ever you?" He whispered.


"Was it?"

"No. It was just…other people." He said. "Honest to god, I never touched her."

"Who?" Kevin said, resigned, his voice low.

He sighed. "Gordon, Park, the other Gordon, Johnson…"

"But not you?" Kevin repeated.

He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that, man. I couldn't. And if you don't know that by now, you're too fucking stupid to live."

Kevin stood up abruptly, then turned to his friend. "Thanks, man. Thanks."

Too bad Kevin didn't know what had happened before he married her...