Janet Evanovich - Motor Mouth

Sometimes theres a decision to be made between winning fairly and cheating for a good cause. And sometimes, in the heat of competition, Ive slipped south of fair. So I understand the temptation. But heres the thing about cheating dont cheat me. I take it personally.

And I was pretty sure I had my eye on a guy who was cheating at my expense. He was wearing a red suit. He was driving a flashy car with a big 69 painted on the side. And he was going too fast. I had my binoculars trained on him as he took a turn, his left-front tire tight to the curve.

I was standing on the flat roof of the Homestead-Miami Speedway grandstand, getting a birds-eye view of the scrubby Florida landscape. Heat waves shimmered on the track below me, and the air was thick with fumes from scorched rubber, high-octane gas, and the euphoria NASCAR brings to a race. I was with forty-two guys on the roof. I was the only one on the roof wearing a pink lace thong. At least I was almost certain I was the only one in a thong since I was the only female, but hell, what do I know? I was wearing tight black jeans and a Stiller Racing shirt. The shirt had short sleeves, was white with black and gold trim, and the Stiller Racing logo was embroidered on the front. The embroidered name on the back was a garage joke: Motor Mouth. Im Sam Hookers race-day spotter. Im the lip-glossed, bleached blonde who whispers into Hookers ear while he sweats his brains out in a black-and-gold fire-resistant jumpsuit each week.

This week Hooker was running his black Metro-sponsored car around and around the Homestead 1.5-mile oval. It was the last race of the season and I was looking forward to a change of pace. I love my job, but there comes a time when a girl just wants to shimmy into a sexy little dress and sip a cosmo at a restaurant that doesnt feature barbecue. Not that I dont like barbecue, but Id had a lot of it lately.

Hookers voice was loud and clear in my headset. Earth to Motor Mouth. Talk to me.

Im thinking thoughts that cant go public.

Are these thoughts about getting naked? Hooker asked.

No, theyre about getting even.

Listen, it was an accident, I swear. I was drunk and I dont remember a thing. I dont know how I ended up in bed with that salesclerk. Darlin, you know I love you.

Mental head slap. Not that, you moron. Im talking about the race.

Hooker got his start on Texas dirt tracks. Hes raced open-wheel karts, trucks, and everything in between. Hes my age but he looks like a college kid. Sun-bleached blond hair, and a nice body thats got some muscle and stands a couple inches taller than me. The difference between Hooker and the college kid is in Hookers eyes. There are lines at the corners that tell his age and grit. And theres a depth that comes from living hard and gaining something from it.

Id done some racing when I was in high school. Strictly local amateur stuff. Id wreck the cars, and then Id fix them up in my dads garage in Baltimore. Turned out I was a lot better at fixing them than racing them, so I bailed on the driving and got an engineering degree instead. Hooker isnt worth anything as a mechanic, but he can really run a car. Ive worked as his spotter and also as part of his R amp; D team for an entire season, thirty-six Cup races, and Im knocked out by his consistently aggressive attitude and his ability to drive.

There are those who question Hookers balls-to-brain ratio. Ive never seen an X-ray of his head, so Im taking a winger on his brain, but Ive seen the other equipment in question and Im pretty confident the ratio is two to one.

Id been involved in a romantic relationship with Hooker when Id taken the job with Stiller. And Id been idiot enough to think the relationship was serious. Hooker had proved me wrong at four months with a one-night stand that had gotten splashed onto every tabloid. I was now over Hookerpretty much. The only thing I was currently serious about was my job. I was devoted to Stiller Racing.

Youve done two hundred and forty-four laps, I said. You have twenty-three laps to go. The red sixty-nine car is four car lengths in front of you.

The 69 was sponsored by Lube-A-Lot and owned by Huevo Motor Sports, a Mexican powerhouse with money to burn on race cars. Huevo built good cars, but sometimes the 69 was too good, and I was willing to put money down that the 69 car was cheating, running with illegal technology.

Four car lengths, Hooker said to me. Thats too much. Do something.

I can tell you when its safe to pass, and when its okay to pit, and when theres trouble ahead. Being that Im up here on the roof, and youre down there on the track, and Ive left my magic voodoo dust back in the motor coach, its going to be hard for me to do something.

And that was when the big one happened. The monster car crash that car owners dread and fans love. A Stiller car driven by Nick Shrin got loose, slid out of its groove, and the car following it made contact and punted Shrin into the wall. Six other cars got caught in the wreck and were instantly turned into twisted, shredded scrap metal. Fortunately, they were all behind Hooker.

When racing resumed and everyone lined up for the restart, the gap would be closed between the red 69 Lube-A-Lot car and Hookers Metro car.

Back her down, I told Hooker. You just got lucky.

What happened?

Shrin got loose and hit the wall, and after that he was hit by everyone except you and the pace car.

The caution flag was out and the field was frozen until the mess could be cleared. Stiller Racing runs three Cup cars. Hooker drives one. Larry Karna drives another. And Nick Shrin drives the yellow-and-red car sponsored by YumYum Snack Cakes. Nicks a good driver and a good person, and I was experiencing some anxiety about him right now. Stock cars are entered and exited via the drivers-side window, and Shrin hadnt yet climbed out. I had my binoculars trained on him, but I couldnt tell much. He was still in his restraint system, still had his helmet on, visor down. The car was surrounded by emergency workers. A bunch of cars were trashed in the crash, but Shrin was the only driver not yet out of his.

Whats going on? Hooker wanted to know.

Shrins still in his car.

Shrins spotter was standing next to me. His name is Jefferson Davis Warner, and everyone calls him Gobbles. Hes in his early thirties, his ears stick out, his brown hair sticks up, and he has a nose that got smashed in a bar fight and was left slightly crooked. Hes gangly legged and rail thin, and his hands and feet are too big for his bodysort of a cross between a fluffy-headed crane and a Great Dane puppy. He eats nonstop and never gains an ounce. Im told he got the name Gobbles when he was in school and was always first in the lunch line. I guess its ironically appropriate that hes now on the YumYum Snack Cake team. He has a good heart, and hes a good spotter. And like a lot of people in the program, when Gobbles got out of the NASCAR bubble, he wasnt the sharpest tack on the corkboard. He could calculate pit road speed from a tach reading, but he couldnt tell a con man from a cow flop. It all smelled the same to Gobbles. Right now his face was white, and he had the rail in a death grip.