[chapter fourteen]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of
them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please.
;-)
**
(the following Sunday night)
"Okay, seven card stud, jacks are better." Marec said as he dealt the cards around the table. Kick grinned as she watched everyone gathered assume poker faces.
Due to a torrential thunderstorm, none of the teams had been unable to get out ahead of the weather to get home. Most of the crews, and indeed, most of the drivers, had opted to crash for the night in a nearby hotel and chance getting home Monday morning. It seemed the better option than find themselves, or their motorcoaches, washed away by the rain at the track.
Kick had decided an impromptu poker night was in order and had called on Chad to round up the troops and assemble in her room and the room connected to hers, currently inhabited by another official by the name of Lanny. Lanny, who was up almost $60, was more than happy to help host the occasion.
The bathtub was filled with beer and cigar smoke hung in the air. Kick couldn't remember a more convivial night in a while.
Unfortunately, her good mood was challenged every time Jimmie looked across the table at her, a look of confusion or concern on his face. After folding her hand and surrendering her ante bet, she stood from the table.
"Where ya going? I'm just gettin' good." Dubois moaned as she ambled over to snag a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
Kick grinned and motioned to the covered balcony. "Smoke break. I'll be back in five. You can win more money from me then."
Kick stepped onto the balcony and shut the door behind her. She lit a cigarette as she watched the swathes of rain pouring from the sky and inhaled deeply. She jumped when she heard the door slide open and closed behind her.
"Hi." Jimmie said quietly.
"Hi." Kick said, turning to look at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Can I have one?" Jimmie asked, motioning to the cigarettes.
Kick raised an eyebrow. "You smoke?"
"Sure." Jimmie said confidently, fumbling with the lighter. Moments later, he wheezed and coughed as he tried to take a drag and Kick couldn't help but laugh.
"You don't have to pretend to smoke just to come out here." Kick said reasonably, still trying to hide her smile.
Jimmie grinned and tossed his cigarette out into the night. "Thank god." He said. "How…how are you?"
Kick smiled. "I'm good. How are you?"
It seemed they had an unspoken agreement not to mention the car ride of last week, or anything having to do with relationships or love. That agreement suited Kick just fine.
"Okay. Tired…glad I'm here, and not stuck in some mud bog at the track." Jimmie said evenly.
Kick grinned. "I imagine so."
"Soo…" Jimmie said, searching for conversation. "Why are you called Kick?"
Kick laughed. "Ask Chad."
"He said to ask you."
"Chump." Kick said under her breath. "Someday, I promise I'll tell."
Jimmie nodded but said nothing, instead standing to face the rain, his shoulder only inches from hers.
"I saw you on the Hot Seat last week. You did a good job." Kick said amiably.
"Thanks. I saw Hamlin get in your face today. You did a good job telling him to back the hell off." Jimmie smiled at the memory of a very agitated Kick getting Hamlin out of her face after the race.
"Someone gets in my face and I don't like it, I'm going to let them know about it." Kick grinned.
Jimmie nodded. "I remember this one time, Loomis was…"
After 15 minutes and another cigarette, Kick was pleasantly surprised to find herself still chatting with Jimmie, and enjoying herself to boot. They continued to laugh and trade stories until Marec slid open the balcony door. "Kick? Someone here to see you." He said, his voice harsh.
Kick turned and stepped inside,
Jimmie on her heels. He nearly crashed headlong into her as she came face
to face with Junior.