[chapter three]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of
them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please.
;-)
**
Jimmie pounded the steering wheel in frustration as he circled the track under
caution.
'Dented nose, it's frickin' hot in here, and Chris needs to get his head out of his ass', he fumed silently as he lined back up behind the 42 car.
"Keep your head in the game, bud." Chad's reassuring voice came across the radio and Jimmie scowled without answering. 'Goddamn cheerleader' he thought darkly as he stuck his hand out the window to get some air.
"Jimmie, this is Kick. Tower just radioed that you got out before the 42, so go ahead and line up in front of him for the restart."
Jimmie almost smiled to himself - about time he caught a break today. "10-4. Thanks, Kick." He said instead, pulling out of traffic and sliding in front of Jamie's car.
Every time he had pulled onto pit road today, he'd caught a glance of Kick, standing in front of his car, an earnest look on her face as she watched every move his crew made.
He knew she was doing her job, but somehow, it unnerved him to see a girl standing in front of his car.
Especially this girl.
He didn't know why.
"Okay, Jimmie, we're going green this time by." Chris' voice echoed in his ear.
Jimmie clenched his hands around the steering wheel and got ready to hit the gas.
**
"Great work today, guys." Chad said into the radio as Jimmie slowly pulled onto pit road. "Sixth place is a great finish here for us."
"Great job on the pit stops, guys." Jimmie echoed as he slowed and stopped his car in the line in front of him.
"Jimmie, this is Kick. NASCAR wants you to take your car to the inspection bay." Her clear voice echoed through his headset. He still couldn't get used to a female voice in his ear. If it wasn't Chris on Chad, it just sounded weird.
Jimmie rolled his eyes. "Why?" He whined into his microphone.
"Because I said so." Kick replied easily.
"Nice answer." He muttered sarcastically.
"Ask a smartass question, get a smartass answer." Kick replied with a laugh.
Jimmie blushed as he realized he still had the "talk" key depressed on his radio, thereby allowing Kick to hear his sarcasm.
"Uh. Sorry." He murmured.
"No worries. Inspection bay. I'll see you there." Kick answered simply.
"10-4." Jimmie said quietly.
"Relax, kid. You aren't in trouble." Kick teased.
Jimmie almost smiled at her reply.
Almost.
And just who was she calling 'kid'?