07 - Downtime

Believe it or not, there comes a time in my life when I'm not going over a hundred miles an hour every weekend. Part of me sees the offseason as a relief from the pressure and obligation, as most of those ninety some-odd days are spend recuperating and reassociating myself with what I've missed while I've been on the track week in and week out. It's hard to let go, though. Racing is a lifestyle in my book, and leaving it can be compared to leaving your best friend.

I dragged myself out of bed and followed through with a full morning routine. Today I decided to not make the mistake of throwing random clothes on. I close black pants and a plain red button-down shirt with flames on the bottom seams covering up a logo-less white T-shirt; a casual conservative look featuring my new team's colours. Figured I'd try to wow the boss early. I combed my head fur to make it look halfway classy, and I spent an extra forty-five minutes combing my entire body to make sure there were no knots, especially around my cheeks where my spotted silver and white fur grew quite a bit longer. To my misfortune, however, I chose to use a cheap brand of conditioner and after my fur dried I almost looked like I'd been through a dryer.

After I grabbed a sandwich, I began my trip to Daytona Beach about three hours and change away. I had a quiet ride there, a pleasant contrast to what I'd grown accustomed to.

I had just merged out of an exit lane when my Keith Urban ringtone blared. I put on my Bluetooth as quickly as I could before it went to voicemail.

"Heya."

"Hey Jasper! How have you been?" My uncle's raspy voice sounded funny when it was cheerful.

"Not too bad, Jack." Jack Teague was my mom's brother. He used to race and helped fund the start of my career, but all but vanished from involvement after being involved in a bad crash ten years ago in a dirt track race. He's always kept tabs on me, though, as I've progressed through my career, "So did you hear the news?"

"How could I not? I saw you on ESPN. One of the best interviews I've seen you do. Heard it all, buddy. Congratulations."

I smiled and shook my head back and forth, smiling as it again dawned on me what happened yesterday, "Heading to my first team meeting now."

"Oh, are you driving? I'll call ya tonight if I got ya at a bad time."

"Don't worry, I'm on my Bluefang." I noticed a sign that read DAYTONA NEXT 3 EXITS.

"Oh. Well I'll let ya go here. I just called to ask if you were gonna join us for Christmas. Not gonna be too big this year cause your grandparents are going to Cabo San Lucas and we got a couple of the in-laws going with them."

I scoffed audibly, "Of course. I gotta relieve my racing withdrawals with something."

"Awesome! Just don't forget to bring autographed fan cards!"

I laughed again, "What fan cards? I'm still the one no one's ever heard of."

"Not as bad as the kid that got the 10 car. You ever hear of him?"

"Brandon..." I added, my mouth curling in a smile as I thought of last night. My mind aimlessly wandered for a moment. Jack and I said our goodbyes, but mine were lazy as my mind would not leave Brandon, happy thoughts of our potential friendship exciting me. After I hung up, I almost missed my exit and had to make a quick merge, cutting off a U-Tow. Of course I got an angry honk from behind, but I didn't retaliate.

Pierce Racing Enterprises has four TeamSource buildings for team meetings and fan appearances; one in Daytona Beach, one in Indianapolis, one in Raleigh, and one in Reno, NV. The small building looks like a tire and oil change center, and on the equally-as-garage inside of it, four cars and some chassis were on display atop hydraulic lifts and the sides of the room were cluttered with tools and posters hung up high. The long room sported smooth cement floors and walls, causing my shoes to slap on the ground with a loud echo. The completely silence and solitude felt a tad eerie, though. No fans were present obviously as the building remained closed to fans until the next event, but I couldn't pick up even the faintest scent of an oil-covered car mechanic or team official. Not even a whiff of Riley. I held my tail close, a tad nervous I may have gotten my own schedule wrong, or my clocks were all off.

I came across an office door that read MEETING CENTER in bold black font. Luckily, I heard some talking on the other side. I knocked and got a response, "Yes?"

I cleared my throat made an attempt to sound halfway masculine, "Jasper Erickson arriving for the meeting."

"C'mon in!" It sounded like Jerrod.

Opening the door, I was met by more than I expected - two dozen furs idly sitting around, talking with each other, some drinking coffee and others eating. Most of them turned the moment I walked in and greeted me. I grew a bit uncomfortable from all the attention, but after a second I simply forced a smile and embraced it.

The moment Jerrod saw me, he ran up to me, "Good t'see ya found the place alright." He then handed me a bag, "Here's some team clothes for ya. Your firesuits'll be in when we get down to Daytona for testing in January."

"Thanks." I managed, "I'm not... late... am I?" My ears dropped a bit.

"Pff! Naah!" He said, waving a hoof out, "Next time, come in th' back door, though. Should be a bell out there if it's locked."

I breathed a sigh of relief, "Good. Was worried when I saw nobody in here." Figures, though. I did everything right to make a good impression, but didn't get the memo to use the back door.

Jerrod introduced me to the rest of my own team. Christine's team was also present, but I did not see Christine yet.

"Finally." Jerrod added, "I'd like to introduce you to Tanner DeCanic. He's been the spotter for the 25 since we started in 2003 and has worked with a few different drivers. I hope he can do for you what he's done for them."

Red fox, only slightly lighter-tinted than Tesla, but otherwise a spitting image. "Nice to meetcha!" His country accent sounded interesting with his higher-pitch. He held out a paw which I shook soundly. My tail flicked slightly.

"Pleasure's all mine." I smirked and tipped my head at him once.

"You haven't been t'one of these meet'ns yet, have ya?" He gave me an empathetic look.

"I have. Just... Countrywide. Little bit different." I tried to sound a little more southern to fit in, enunciating my I's with an 'ah' sound. I think he may have caught my bluff, but he didn't say anything about it.

"You'll have five like this per year. One tonight, one the first Mond'y during testin', one Thursd'y before the 500, one Sund'y after the Pepsi 400, and one Frid'y before Chicago for the chase, whether ya make it or not."

"You probably won't." A female voice seethed. I turned my head to see a large, butch black bear.

"Ah... Jasper, this is Christine Boyd." Jasper introduced and then backed off.

I timidly held out a paw, but she rudely pushed it away, eliciting a defensive expression from Tesla and Tanner.

"What? Rookies these days belong mid pack or worse!" She shrugged.

"You were a rookie once." Tesla chimed in.

"Yeah, a rookie from the last good generation. I had promise. I had Countrywide wins. I didn't inherit any of my daddy's money." She huffed and eyed me sinisterly, spitting the words out at me with a snarl, "I earned all my sponsors."

"Is a rookie from 2003 really any different from a rookie now?" I asked her as innocently as possible despite the fact she pissed me off pretty severely with the inaccurate reference to my father.

She laughed, "Face it!" Her voice wasn't meant to go high, but she tried and it cracked, "Rookies these days are shit! Who was last year's Rookie of the Year? Batridge? Guy's best career finish was 15th... in 39 races, 15th." Her gruff female voice intimidated me.

I pointed at her, "Izra Lofton was the top rookie! Followed by Rhys Carter!" I yelled it louder than I should have and got some attention from around.

"Lofton wasn't a rookie!" She shook her head.

"Expand please." Tesla's impatience showed as he crossed his arms as he spoke.

"Izra Lofton had been driving for this team as a development driver five to seven races every year since 2005. He had four years Countrywide experience, two years Truck Series experience, and a dozen wins between the two. He got here the old fashioned way, the way a real NAFSCAR driver gets here instead of young, attractive, marketable drivers inheriting fame and turning this sport into a joke. Izra was not a rookie. He was a ray of hope for the new generation that got fizzled out by bullshit bureaucracy." She poked my chest hard. "Think about it before you spit out facts at me."

Tesla shook his head. Tanner patted me on the back, "Ya handled him well, J. Don't take it too personally, she's just sore that Izra got sacked."

I gave him a curious look, "So... why did he get fired?"

"I myself don't know." He shrugged, "All that I know is Christine is out for blood. She mighta won the championship, but she sure as hell ain't actin' like it. She and Izra were a great combination, and she gave Izra half the credit last night. She was in tears when she heard the news.

"That monster can cry?" I breathed inaudibly, then nodded.

"Sounds like an ego to me." Tesla elbowed me.

Tanner half smiled, then let it fade back to normal.

Tesla didn't stop there, "Kid gives 50% of his winnings to friends, family, and charity."

"Oh, stop." I punched Tesla on the shoulder. Hearing him brag felt comparable my aunt showing a friend my baby pictures.

"Buddy!" I heard a familiar, high voice and was met by a ferret.

"Hey! What's up, Riley?" I exclaimed.

He hushed and his expression changed to one more serious. "Did I say anything stupid last night?"

"Aside from hit on me and Brandon, not really." I spoke easily, trying to make it sound like I didn't really care. Didn't want him to get the wrong idea of me. Or... did I?

Despite that, he dipped his head and patted my back with a firm paw, "God, I'm sorry." He sounded sincere.

I pushed him off, "It's a'ight bud. Trust me."

I got to meet all my crewmembers that night; a myriad of species, nationalities, and personalities, from Jed Lawson's macho behavior to match his height and muscles, to Nina Copeland, who wore glasses and did most of her work in the garage in front of a computer.

The meeting passed as orthodox as I expected; introductions, rules and regulations, "don't do drugs and abide by the law", NAFSCAR policies, and then at the end Jerrod called us up to the front of the room for introductions, and of course, what happened to Izra, leaving out the huge detail of why once again.

I went out for dinner afterward with Riley, Tanner, and Tesla and got to know Tanner a little better. Found him to be a very sociable fellow, like a country boy that talks about stuff you like.

"So what do you think of Christine?" Riley asked me.

I rolled my eyes, "A bit of a handful, to be honest. Hope she isn't like that on the track."

"She ain't." Tanner interjected, "Trust me, she will treat you like a teammate on the track."

I sighed, "Promise?" I joked.

"Pfft!" He forced a laugh, "Sure as hell. Betcha the purse for the 500."

I held a paw out, "Nope! I'm taking your word for it! She's not Rhys."

Tesla shook his head, "Can't believe he did that to you Saturday night."

"Yeah, you looked like y'had it wrapped up!" Tanner chimed in, hitting the adjacent table for emphasis.

"I did." I announced dryly, "It just didn't end up that way."

"Loved to see Louis win the race over Rhys, though." This time it was Tesla.

"Guys. Don't try to cheer me up over that. That one was my fault."

Tesla sighed impatiently, "Is it your confidence again? Come on, bud. Step up the game a bit. You get pounded into the ground and don't do anything about it, and now you're blaming yourself for it?"

I snarled a bit at him, "Gee, thanks buddy! Tell my new boss too while you're at it."

Both Tanner and Riley tried to speak at once. I had to hush them. Tanner was the first to fire his speech bombs, "Confidence issue? Bud, Swift Cup's gonna make man outta you whether y'like it or not. If you don't let it, you'll be out the door in three months."

I ran my paw over the empty plate I'd been holding, "But for that to happen I'd have to let the beast out of its cage." First off, I'm not sure what part of my brain lapsed forming that sentence. Atop that, I had now turned a conversation I didn't want into a tangled web of a confessional. I had to find a way out.

"Whatcha mean?" Riley sounded almost empathetic.

"I..." I paused nervously. My fur fluffed defensively. I started to sweat, "Nothing."

"Buddy, just..."

"You wouldn't understand."

"What makes you say that? Are you hiding something?" Riley was still speaking calmly.

"No!" I turned and damn near yelled it at him. Tanner and Tesla remained silent as I dropped my head between my shoulders, "Guys, I gotta catch a plane in the morning. I... think I'd better head out. Call me, alright?" I ditched before they could get a word in edgewise.

In all fairness, I didn't lie; I did have a plane to catch in the morning, but now they surely knew something crawled within me that I would not tell them. Hopefully they'd forget. I left the diner alone and drove down to a hotel where I'd spend the night. The whole time I tried hard to brush off the fact I didn't take a chance, but every time I felt bad for lying I just reminded myself: Camera focused on me, reporters taking notes, front page of the newspaper, Rhys Carter...

Before I lay down for the night, I received a phone call around 10 o-clock from a 706 area code. I brushed it off as a sales call and let it go to voice mail.

I arrived late for my plane but got let aboard only because I could prove who I was in order to get my reserved first class seat.

God didn't build huskies nor lynxes to fly, yet to this one, flying became increasingly important throughout my career; traveling the United States can't always be done by car. Personally, I believed that if I was meant to fly, the view from 30,000 feet in the air wouldn't stun me so much. The gorgeous views, however, were limited as we passed through a bow-echo of thunderstorms in northern Florida all the way through Kentucky, where we experienced turbulence so bad, especially for the first 150 miles, that I shook in my seat. At one point, a flight attendant brought me a paper bag as I caught myself choking on my own breath.

I heaved a heavy sigh of relief as I nearly jumped off that plane, and my small family met me at the unloading gate. Jack gave me a pat on the back and all his four kids jumped all over me like hamsters. Austin, at 6, was the youngest. Eve and Shelley were 7 and 11 respectively, and always found something to argue about. Then we had Liam, a 17 year old who tended to keep to himself.

We spent the better part of the next month together. We went golfing, swimming, biking, the whole nine yards. Save Liam, the kids were a handful and I would often get left to babysit them, which I did not have a knack for. Every now and then I would get a chance to e-mail Brandon or Riley or members of the team, and I did have a few fan obligations to attend outside of Minneapolis, but aside from that, the first half of the offseason didn't leave me anything particularly noteworthy.

A week before Christmas, I asked Jack why he thought I would be good with the kids when he knows very well I suck at babysitting.

"Because you gotta learn to deal with kids. You're a star, buddy! Just imagine how much attention you'll get when you have kids."

I almost choked on my chicken leg and coughed a few times, "Kids?! I don't even have a girlfriend, Jack." I hated this conversation, but I always knew it would be imminent during holiday season. Thankfully, it came up before the extended family arrived this year.

"That will change soon." He grumbled, sounding somewhat frustrated as he munched on a chicken leg of his own, "Just wait till the folks get down here, they got some books for ya about parenting."

I didn't even want to debate that. Presents, no doubt.

"Just imagine all the fans you'll get! The kids will live the lives we all wanted, and as will you and I."

I shook my head, "I-it's not like that, Jack." Don't say it, Jasper! Do not say it to Jack! Do not! He'll kick you out that front door! I chose my words more carefully after barraging myself with a haphazard internal monologue, "The girl doesn't make the driver. The drive makes the driver." I said. A bit cheesy, but I think he got the point that he'd been missing all along.

"Well, what about when I raced? They all loved my girl."

I sighed, "Jack, you and I both know how that ended."

He pointed his chicken leg at me, "Don't get smart. Just fucking listen." He barked, spitting out pieces of chicken, "Just because I lost the girl and the drive doesn't prove anything for your sake." He actually stooped to my level of conversation, rehashing the same figure of speech, which honestly surprised me, "It's just a matter of time, bud. Don't water it down, when it comes - you'll love it."

I didn't argue, and heaved a frustrated sigh as I watched the play set up on TV. It was the Minneapolis Comets versus the Pittsburgh Lancers. Pittsburgh had the ball and led 7-zip with 6 minutes to go in the second quarter. Despite the fact that I had it shoved down my throat from an early age, I never got into football. I could sit through a game, but I always thought something lacked. Maybe I'm just that full of myself that I have to have that very different flavor of player to actually get engaged? Regardless, the only thing that even mildly fascinated me were those luscious pecs and firmly toned butts beneath tight weatherproof clothes. Jack, on the other hand, worshiped the game; Jack openly admitted to me this year that he attended more football games than NAFSCAR races. Factoring in that a football game costs more than quadruple what a NAFSCAR race costs per ticket, as well as the fact that his own self-proclaimed third son takes part in it, I call that a hit below the belt.

As the play set up and the quarterback called an audible, Jack began to speak again, "Oh. Forgot my entire point. Some girl called here yesterday. Said she was on vacation and wanted to speak with you."

I turned my head at an instant, "Wha--- who the hell?!" I instantly flew up from my seat and grabbed the wireless landline, filing through the numbers as I hurried to the guest bedroom.

He didn't turn from his game and screamed at the TV with more flecks of chicken flying from his greasy lips, "Get the ball! Get the ball! Come... awww dammit!" He pounded the couch and then turned his head back to me, "Please take it into the bedroom, I don't want you to get dirty with each other out here."

I wanted to give him the finger on that note but instead clenched my fist to prevent that. I scrolled through the call history until I came across a B. Scott, 1-254-510-9938 and waited only a single ring before my call was answered.

"Hello?" A familiar female voice graced my ears.

I paused for a moment, "Brandy?"

"Jasper!" I heard an elated squeal from the other end, "Oh my God, how are you?! I've been trying to call, I'm sorry. I think your grandfather got mad at me."

"He's my... uncle." I tried to study the situation while, at the same time, speaking. "H-how did you get my number?" I asked calmly.

"Read your bio, found who I believed to be your grandfather's last name and hometown, used the area code to find his number via Goggle Maps. Sorry."

I paused for a moment to find out if I liked that or not, "Clever." I stated dryly. "So... why did you call?"

She sounded a little bit shy, but I tried not to sound intimidating, "Um... wanted to see what you were doing after New Year's."

I chuckled a little bit, "Testing."

"Before that, silly." She giggled a little too. She was definitely flirting.

"Nothing planned after the Ceremony on the 28th. Did you have anything in mind?" I wouldn't mind another friend, of course, so I didn't resist.

"Awesome! When ya wanna do it?" I could see her smiling over the phone just by her voice.

"Sure. The second or third sound okay?"

"Let's do the third. Second I'll still be in Waco with the family."

Waco only sat about 120 miles from Lakeway. It surprised me that she lived that close by. "Just as friends, right?" Given that fact, of course, I didn't consider that maybe she had been stalking me until now and I wanted to play it cool. I dodged mention anything for sake of not offending her, but seriously, if she did all that to get my number and dared to call it, then she's definitely hiding some spunk. I surely didn't want to leave her with nothing after all that trouble.

"Right." She answered, a little quieter.

"Where at?"

"Your place in Lakeway? Maybe we can go to dinner at Sobari? I can cover myself."

Really? The classiest restaurant in Lakeway? "You sure you can afford it?" I hoped I didn't come off rude at all. Sobari's seafood sounded delicious, though!

She laughed a little, "It's fine, hon. Yes."

I tried to change the subject, "So what are you doing this offseason?"

"Looking forward to cheering ya on in the 25, buddy!" There's the race fan I was looking for in her. She growled as she spoke, sounding ready for some adrenalin and action.

She and I spoke for a good fifteen minutes about our offseasons. Definitely flirting.