Fuel
by Velma
There wasn't much time to worry about Justin's situation, though, because race day loomed. It was still in the back of Chris's head, but Lance was right - it was none of his business unless it started to affect Justin's racing.JC and Joey and the rest of the crew had been working overdrive, and when Chris showed up for the final inspection they seemed fairly satisfied with the car. They were also whispering rather excitedly between themselves as Chris came up behind them.
"Gentleman," he said, arms thrown lightly across their shoulders. "What gives?"
Joey nodded toward a shadowy corner of the garage. Chris squinted, trying to pick out who or what they were looking at. A brief flash of orange from the end of a cigarette provided enough illumination for Chris to make the ID.
"Is that McLean?" Joey grunted an affirmative. "What the fuck's he doing here?" Chris frowned. AJ McLean was pretty high in the power chain over in Richardson's outfit. The only reason people from other crews ever hung out in competing garages was if they were looking to jump ship.
Kevin took damn good care of his people, though, and Chris had never heard a single bad word about Littrell, who ran Kevin's shop. He walked over slowly, leaned against the wall, and glanced at AJ out of the corner of his eyes. "Can I help you?"
AJ arched his eyebrow and took another drag from his cigarette. "That remains to be seen. You looking for any new blood over here, Kirkpatrick?"
Chris watched the activity in the garage for a few minutes. "You want to tell me why you're really here, McLean? 'Cause that's a load of shit, AJ. There's no way you're looking to switch teams, and if you were, it sure as hell wouldn't be to mine. You hate me, AJ. Or did you somehow manage to forget that?"
AJ snorted. "Look, you know I'm the best tire man out there. I get along fine with Fatone and Jayce is..." Chris raised an eyebrow and AJ smirked. "Mr. Chasez is a lot of fun. I like your guys, you've got a great driver, and any personal differences we've got can be put aside."
"You're serious." Chris blinked. "You want to leave Kevin."
"No." AJ took another drag. "Look, this goes no further than us, and for some reason I still seem to trust you, so I'm going to tell you. Kevin's in a rough spot. Financially. I'm hoping to lighten the load by getting off the payroll. He won't let me take a cut in pay, or anyone else. He refuses to make it any easier on himself."
"Typical Kevin," Chris murmured, and AJ nodded. "I had no idea. Carter's a damn good driver. He's got good sponsors. It doesn't make sense."
AJ shrugged. "Lou's severance package wasn't as flush as yours, I'd gather. I don't know. It's not like I'm Kevin's confidante or anything. I don't think anyone is. And Nick's the best driver I've ever worked with, but," AJ sighed, "you and I both know he could with the Championship and he still wouldn't get the endorsement deals your guy's getting. NASCAR's picked its darling, the rest of us need to make do with the sloppy seconds. They'll never be on a level playing field, and you know it."
"Out there on the asphalt's about as level as it gets."
AJ rolled his eyes. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that. So, you gonna bite, or what?"
Chris looked at him closely. "I'll give it some serious thought. But you think about it, too, man. You'd be miserable over here. That's a tight unit over there. I know you guys are like family. And Kevin - well, Kevin'd never forgive you and it'd be yet another nail in my coffin."
AJ stubbed out his cigarette, flicked it at a garbage can. "If you and Kevin talked - you know, that thing civilized people do - I think you'd find out that neither of you is as bad as you'd like to believe. This rivalry bullshit gets old. And," he pushed his sunglasses up over his eyes, "that's about all I'll ever say about that and as deep as I'm ever gonna get. I'll see you around, Kirkpatrick."
AJ headed out, and Chris turned, ignoring the curious eyes that watched him as he made his way to the trailer. It wasn't until he got inside that he allowed himself even a frown at what he'd learned.
"What's wrong?" Lance asked. He hadn't even looked up from his computer.
"Who says anything's wrong? How do you know shit like that, anyway? Do I breathe funny when I'm upset? Are you psychic? Am I letting off a pher0mone or something?"
Lance's lips twitched as he continued to look at the monitor. "Nope. You're just late for inspection."
"I had stuff." Chris paused. "You talk to Howie lately?"
Howie Dorough was in many ways Lance's counterpart over at Richardson Racing - he did the books and was the media contact, like Lance, the public face of his organization.
"Last night at dinner, Chris. You were there, remember?"
"I don't mean, like, schmoozing crap. When's the last time you actually talked to him?"
Lance's eyebrows furrowed. "It's been awhile, I guess. Why?"
"McLean stopped by. There's trouble in paradise, I guess. Money situation's not good over there."
"AJ?! Asked you for a job? Holy shit. It's got to be dire."
Chris nodded. "Sounds it. It's fucking impossible to be a single car owner. I mean, we're doing okay, but if Justin starts tanking out there, or worse yet, wrecks..." He rubbed his neck, sighing in thanks when Lance took over for him.
"Resources would go a lot further in a shared garage," Lance said softly. "This was always a dream the two of you shared."
Chris tensed, pushed Lance's hands away. "That's a dead issue, Bass."
"Long before you two were whatever you were you talked about this, Chris. Getting out from under Lou, starting your own team, and running him into the ground. You were friends for a long time. You've both moved on. It's a damn shame you can' t find that friendship again and find a way to help each other."
"You don't know, Lance. You have no idea."
"You're right, Chris, I don't. I don't because you never tell me. You never talk about it. About him. And you're too fucking proud to admit you miss him - too damn stubborn to take the first step. It's stupid, is what it is. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to check on Justin." Lance stormed out of the trailer.
After a few minutes Chris sighed and pushed himself up. He made his way slowly out of the trailer and into the garage. There was a race to run.
He hadn't really thought Joey was going to make him be spotter, but there Joey was waiting for him outside the garage with a crew uniform and everything.
"I'm not wearing that," Chris grumbled.
Joey beamed and nodded. "NASCAR rules, CK. You have to."
"Hey, Lance," Chris called, and both Lance and Justin looked over. "Did you pack my girdle?" JC snickered.
He put the suit on because he had to, trying his best to ignore the hoots and whistles of the crew as he made his way through the pit in it. "You're gonna pay, Fatone," Chris said. Joey smiled sweetly at him and pinched his cheeks. Chris smacked him, then walked over to Justin.
"I'll try not to screw up too badly, your Majesty." Justin grinned. "This course is like my baby. I won't do you wrong." They knocked fists and Chris took off for the booth. It was just as well he didn't have to stick around for pre-race festivities. He was really nervous.
Joey was right. He had missed racing. The adrenaline rush that came with the start of a race was entirely different when you had more to do than sit on the sideline and watch. It felt really good.
~.~
125 laps in and Justin's car problems were clearly a thing of the past. The car was on a tear, and with a little help from Chris Justin had managed to work his way up to the three spot, and was in the position to make a serious run at the lead.
Chris's palms started to sweat. Things were going too well. The fatalist in him was screaming inside his head that something bad was going to happen.
Which, of course, it did.
"Crash, turn two, Crash, turn two."
No sooner had Chris heard it in his ear than he was relaying the information to Justin. The kid was in a relatively safe position on the front straightaway. Relatively in that Chris prayed the cars in the fray would have stopped moving by the time he got there.
"They're high, they're high, JT," he said into the radio. "Debris high, go to the grass if you have to."
"Roger, going low," Justin said, and a sigh of relief came across the headset as he emerged onto the back straightaway. "Who's all up in that?" he asked.
"Looks like Waltrip and Petty took the hardest hits. Andretti and," Chris squinted, "looks like Carter's car got pretty banged up."
"Shit," Justin said, and Chris could hear his voice get tighter.
"Everyone's out, everyone's walking, it's okay, man. They're clearing the track. Go on and pit, J." Chris said, and allowed himself to zone for the moment of respite the caution provided.
He was brought back to reality by slightly panicked voices on the two-way.
"Fuck." That was Justin. "Fuck,she's stalled. She's stalled. I'm not getting anything off the switch."
An engine stall on pit row during what was likely the last yellow of the race. Dumb fucking luck. Chris rubbed his face and listened. There wasn't anything else to do.
"C'mon, c'mon," Justin's voice was increasingly tense.
"Hang in there, Justin. Hang in." That was Joey. Chris watched through his hands as the race leaders exited pit road. "We're gonna push her, see if we can't get her going."
Joey's mic stayed on, Chris could hear him as he cleared the cement wall. "It's not enough," Joey grunted, the exertion in his voice evident. He was about to pull off his headset when he heard JC's voice, surprised,
"What the..."
Then all he heard was the engine as it roared to life and the squeal of tires as Justin shot down pit road. Chris jerked the headset back to his ears.
"Alright, Justin, look alive, look alive. We've got forty laps left and you're running eleventh. We didn't just come here to race."
"Damn right we didn't," Justin gritted out. "We came here to win."
If someone had asked Chris, afterward, what the last part of that race had been like, he wouldn't have had an answer. The only time he'd been more focused he'd been behind the wheel himself.
"Labonte straight ahead. He likes to hug the inside. If you can get high and away, the eight car's behind you, and he'll go with you. You can draft off him. Don't let him strand you out there."
Thirty laps to go. Justin was in seventh.
"Okay, okay, lap traffic coming up. Be alert. Wallace on your back bumper. He's going to try to go low, watch him in the corners."
Twenty laps. Justin was in fourth, and Chris couldn't feel his fingers. They were clenched too tightly together at his sides.
"Okay, JT, lap traffic's all behind you. Three cars in front. Newman moves on the straightaways. He won't try anything on the corners. Gordon's gonna try and fight you off no matter what you do, but he's weak on the corners, too. Junior's still behind you, he'll work with you to get in front, but be careful, man. Kid's sneaky."
"Jesus, you talk a lot," Justin said, and Chris let out a shaky laugh.
He watched as Justin darted out the back stretch, Junior and a whole line of cars falling in behind him. Newman and Gordon had lost the draft. They were left on the inside as car after car passed them. Gordon finally managed to get back in the line of cars back in the tenth spot. Newman was fifteenth before he found a hole to tuck into.
Ten laps to go, and Justin was in second.
"Junior's on your ass, but, uh," he heard Justin snort, "you probably knew that. I'm going to shut up now and let you drive. Holler if you need me."
"Roger that," Justin voice crackled across the radio. "Y'all heard that, right? Chris is shutting up. It's a momentous day indeed." There was a smattering of laughter across the radio and then silence.
Chris just watched. And goddamn, it was a beautiful sight. Justin drove the car like it was an extension of himself - you knew you were witnessing something extraordinary when you saw him in action.
Five laps and Justin made his move. He accelerated off turn four and got right on Johnson's bumper through the front straightaway, all the way through turn one, and Chris stopped breathing. Justin was either brilliant or insane. If he could hold onto the car and not crash into the wall, he was going to take the lead. The two cars went into turn two side by side, then Justin blew past Johnson in the back stretch.
"Gotta give something to the folks in the cheap seats," Justin crowed. Joey was right there before Chris could say anything.
"Looking good, JT, looking very good. Four more laps, just hang on, man. We haven't seen the end of the race yet."
Chris knew, though. He knew Justin had it, could feel it in his bones. Johnson tried to make one last run as the white flag flew, but the car was too good. Justin pulled away, and when the checkered flag dropped, he had a full two second lead on the second place finisher.
Chris just stood there, looking down at the race track.
He was dimly aware of the celebratory cheers in his headets, of guys slapping him on the back up in the stand. He couldn't move, though, seemed to have lost the ability to do anything as he watched Justin doing donuts in the infield green. Joey Mac, a guy who'd done some work on Lou's crew back when Chris was still racing, put a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him down to the racetrack. NASCAR officials quickly surrounded him and pulled him over to Victory Lane.
The crew had surrounded the car by the time Chris got there, and Justin was being pulled out. Everything seemed in slow motion as he watched Justin stand on the roof of the car, looking around wildly, eyes locking on Chris's as the crew dumped beer all over him. Justin pushed his way through the crowd, and time sped up again for Chris as the kid's arms closed around him. "We did it!" Justin yelled, grinning triumphantly.
Chris grinned back. "Sonofabitch, kid, hell of a job." Cameras clicked around them, the snap of flashbulbs blinding as he stepped back. Justin's moment. His first Cup win.
Holy shit.
~.~
He stood off to the side with Joey, Lance, and JC and watched as Justin finished his post-race interviews.
"Well, DW," Justin mugged for the camera, "as much as I don't believe in fate, today sure felt like it was written in the stars. I guess sometimes we're just destined to do what we do, right?" Waltrip nodded blankly and Chris bit back a snort only because Lance elbowed him hard. "Seriously, I've got the best crew in the biz right now - they worked miracles on this car, especially after that mess of a qualifying run. It was huge having Chris up top, I wouldn't be here without him and the rest of the Coors Light team." Justin flashed a thumbs up sign, and more flashbulbs went off.
Chris tuned him out and turned to Joey. "So, what was up with that pit stop, anyway?" he asked, and watched as the other two exchanged looks with Joey.
"The engine cut out," JC said. "I have no idea why."
"We had to push start," Joey said.
Chris nodded. "Seems like there's more to it, though."
Joey sighed. "There wasn't enough man power." He glanced at JC. "AJ and Brian came over from Carter's pit and helped."
Chris's eyes went to the dark garage, to the tarp over Carter's wrecked car, and then to Lance.
"They'd never have crossed the wall if Kevin hadn't told them to," Lance said.
Chris nodded. It seemed he owed Kevin a thank you. And a whole lot more.