With two laps left to go of a green-white-checkered finish in the Budweiser Shootout, Denny leading, Tony in second, and Junior right behind him, I was getting very anxious. Denny had only recently pulled out to the lead, Tony helped him get there inside of sixteen laps to go. I relaxed my grip on the seat when I realized I was squeezing it so hard, my fingers were turning white. Turning to glance back at Michelle, she looked just as nervous as I felt.
"One more to go. Think you and Junior can catch Hamlin?" I heard Zippy ask as I watched Tony cross the start/finish line.
"That's the least of my concerns right now… if we're not careful, someone's gonna get hurt and I sure as hell don't want it to be me," Tony answered.
"I hear ya, babe. Just stay focused," Zippy said.
Last lap. Down out of turn two, Jimmie Johnson was coming up fast on the outside with a whole line of cars behind him. Tony gave a push to Denny's bumper and sent him flying past Jimmie, putting two or three car lengths between them as Jimmie started falling back. Coming out of the last turn, Junior made a move on the outside of Tony. Denny was still a car length ahead of either of them. Tony and Junior banged once into each other as Denny soared past the start/finish line, becoming the first rookie to ever win the Budweiser Shootout.
Zippy and I both looked at the results on the monitor in front of us. At first, it had Tony scored in second, then a few seconds later, Junior was in his place. We looked at each other.
Then, Zippy shrugged. "It was close but it really doesn't matter; it's not a points race."
I nodded, slipping off the headset and slowly climbing down the war wagon. By the time Tony and Junior had managed to pull their cars onto pit road and began to unbuckle themselves, reporters, cameramen, and photographers were already swarming the place. In the distance, down by the finish line, there was smoke blowing by the crowd, a celebratory burnout from Denny.
I took Michelle's hand and helped her over the wall. We stood back behind the media, waiting for Tony to finish his interviews. He looked pleased for a moment, talking about how awesome his night was and how he was hoping he and Denny would finish one, two.
"Tell you what, a lot of beating and banging out there. Almost more than normal," the reporter commented.
Running a hand through his hair, Tony's face fell. "Yeah, we're gonna kill somebody," Tony said. "I mean - somebody else is gonna die at Daytona or Talladega with what we're doing right here. So, uh, I hope I'm not around when it happens."
I watched Shawn look up from her phone for a moment, debating whether or not to step in and interrupt Tony before he said something he might regret. But Junior walked over at that moment and half hugged Tony, shared a smile between them, then patted him on the back as the reporter interviewed him.
Michelle and I walked over to the front of Tony's car, where he stood talking with Zippy. Michelle hugged him tight and he pulled away and kissed her; she didn't seem to mind the sweat.
"You were great," she smiled. "That was really exciting to watch."
"It was awesome," Tony smiled back at her. "But maybe a little too rough."
He dropped her hand and hugged me to his chest. "Nice job out there. You played it smart, even with Kyle getting into you."
"Yeah, I'd like to have a talk with him about that," he answered, pulling away.
"I'm sure it was nothing. He probably didn't even know you were down there. Can't you just let things go for once?" I pleaded. I hated when Tony, or any of the guys, let their tempers get the best of them.
"Okay, okay, fine, I'll let it go. But only for you. The next time it happens, he'll be hearing from me and more than likely, my fists."
I rolled my eyes. "Violence doesn't solve anything. You should understand that by now." I hugged him one more time. "I'm going to go find Kyle and a few others. I'll see you two later."
As I turned away, he grabbed my arm. "You coming back to the coach tonight?"
I shook my head. "Just to get some clothes. But other than that, no. I'll most likely be at Kyle's."
"So that's where you disappeared to last night," he laughed. "Don't come by too late or we might have a problem, if you know what I mean." He winked at me and smiled, his gaze falling in Michelle's direction.
"Thanks for the heads up. You two have fun. But not too much fun, if you know what I mean," I laughed, walking away.
Reaching Kyle's car towards the end of pit road, I soon came to realize that he wasn't there. It didn't surprise me because he didn't finish all that well, fifteenth out of twenty-one cars, but I was hoping he'd stick around for a little bit. Elliott's car was two spots away from Kyle's but he wasn't there either. Sighing and realizing that there was really no one else I wanted to talk to, I started back towards Tony's car.
I didn't make it very far; I soon found myself wandering into victory lane, just in time to see Denny climb out of his car, smile for the cameras a moment or two, then turn on his crew and shower them in Coca-Cola.
I stepped a little closer, so I was able to make out what was being said between him and the reporter.
"Denny, welcome to Daytona's victory lane."
"I can't believe it. Uh, it wasn't two years ago I was here as a visitor of Dale Earnhardt, Jr. He invited me to come two years ago and stay in his motor home and that's the only other time I've ever been to victory lane. I just can't believe it. Just thank everyone from FedEx. Had a rough year last year, but uh, it's time for redemption. We're coming back this year and we're going to win Rookie of the Year," he smiled, slipping on a red Budweiser Shootout hat.
"Tell me quickly about those last couple of laps."
He adjusted his hat before answering. "It was intense. I thought when Tony got by me there with forty to go, it was over with but uh, I had good help. Jimmie gave me a great push down the back straightaway. I thank him and Tony pushed me the entire other race. I - I just, uh - I don't know what to say."
Still struggling to find something to say, a couple of Denny's crew members came up behind him and drenched him in Gatorade; it only made his smile grow wider. I had to laugh.
"You think you made any friends for next Sunday?" the reporter questioned.
"I hope so. That was my main goal tonight. I figured I wasn't going to have any help at all and all I wanted to do was just gain respect from these guys for the 500 and hopefully, we did that."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you." Adjusting his hat once more, he turned and began talking with his crew, slapping hands and giving high fives to some of them. He hugged his mom and dad and shook hands with J.D. Gibbs. His crew sprayed him with Budweiser beer and he slipped on a Budweiser Shootout jacket before getting up on the podium next to his trophy, ready to take a few pictures and do the infamous Hat Dance.
After a few pictures with his crew, and his mom and dad, he finally saw me, hidden behind all the photographers and reporters.
I smiled at him, then mouthed 'congratulations'. Had I said it out loud, it was doubtful he'd be able to hear me over all the noise. He smiled back at me, nodded his head, and then beckoned me to come towards him. I shook my head; this was his time to shine, not mine.
He tried once more and again, I shook my head in protest. Apparently unsatisfied with my answer, he jumped down from the podium and briskly walked toward me.
Grabbing my hand, he said, "Come on, come with me." He started pulling me towards the stage.
"No, Denny, please don't." I pulled back and he let go of my hand.
"Why not?"
"Because this isn't about me; it's about you. This is your thing; your time. You won the race; I just watched it," I answered, desperately trying to find a way out.
"But I really want you to be up there with me," he pleaded. "Please?"
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. Being a photographer, I felt as though my place was behind the lens, not out in front of it. To tell the truth, I was far more comfortable being the capturer and not the captured and this time wasn't any different.
He stuck out his bottom lip. "Please? Pretty please? It'd mean a lot to me."
I sighed again, trying hard to refuse the look on his face but failing miserably. "Fine. If it really matters that much to you."
He smiled and then grabbed my hand again, leading me towards the podium. He stepped up once again and one of his crew members offered me his hand.
"Thanks," I smiled, taking his hand and stepping up. Looking to my right, I watched Denny switch hats again and bend the bill to his liking before sticking up one finger in the air and smiling for another picture.
After a few flashes had gone off, he looked over at me, still smiling, and intertwined his fingers with my own, pulling me closer to him.
"Are we still on for dinner tonight? Smile…" he whispered. His breath was hot on my ear and his warm fingers were still tangled with mine.
I held up one finger with my free hand and smiled for a few pictures. The lights in victory lane were bright, making the sky seem rather dark as if it were midnight. But I already knew the sun was just setting as the race was drawing to a close, making it about six at night.
"It's a little late, don't you think? I mean, it's not like you can just walk away and go back to your RV after these pictures are done. I know there's other media commitments that go along with winning, points race or not." I smiled for a few more flashes.
"It should take me about two hours to finish with everything and have some time to shower and change clothes, that wouldn't really be too late now, would it?" Then he sighed and smiled once more as there was more bursts of light. "Well, we don't have to do it tonight, if you're not up for it. I'm sure some of the crew wouldn't mind going out to celebrate with me instead."
"No, I really want to go with you; please don't take it like that. I just thought you'd be a little exhausted, that's all."
He smirked at me. "I probably am. But between the adrenaline rush and all the excitement, I haven't really had time to notice." Letting go of my hand, he hopped off the podium as the media moved on like a herd of cows in search of new grass to graze.
He offered his hand to me. Taking it gently at first, I stepped down off the stage and then proceeded to squeeze his hand rather violently as I began to lose my balance. He reached out and steadied me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he asked as I released my grip on his other hand; he rubbed his hand gently.
I winced. "Sorry about that. Just a little head rush."
"So I'll call you then, when I get back to the coach."
I nodded. "Or you could just come get me when you're ready. I'll be at Kyle's."
He looked confused for a moment but didn't question what I had just said. "Okay, sounds good. See you in a bit."
He hugged me and took off in the direction of the media center, followed by some of his crew, and his PR rep. In a sad attempt to kill some time, I slowly made my way to Tony's RV. He nor Michelle were there when I arrived. I threw two changes of clothes, some pajamas, sandals, a brush along with a few other toiletries, my digital camera, and my precious iPod into one of the extra suitcases that Tony usually keeps in his closet.
Picking up the bag and heading towards the door, I stopped and then threw my laptop into its case and took it with me, not that I didn't trust my own brother with it, I just felt better knowing it was somewhere that I had access to it and that it was in a safe place.
Not even bothering to knock, I let myself into Kyle's coach, only to discover that it too was dark and silent. Where is everyone? Is there some party going on that I'm unaware of? I tossed my things onto the nearest couch and headed out once again without bothering to turn any lights on. I sent Kyle a text on the way to Elliott's coach, hoping that at least he'd still be there.
"Where are you? I was all by myself in your coach. Ooh! *sings* All by myself! Don't want to be… all by myself! Haha. Okay, okay I'll stop now, even though you know you love it! Text me back, Loser."
"Hey Mikaela," Elliott smiled, as he opened the door for me to come in.
"Thank God someone's still here," I muttered, walking past him. The TV was on and there was a glass of soda and a bowl of popcorn sitting on the counter.
"Are you okay?" he asked, shutting the door.
"I'm fine. Just a little lonely," I laughed. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Nope. I was just going to sit down and watch a movie before heading to bed. Care to join me?" he smiled again, taking another glass out of the cabinet and pouring some soda in it as I took a seat on the couch.
I returned his smile. "Sure. What are we watching?"
He laughed. "What's my favorite movie lately?"
"Oh. I don't know," I smirked. "Wedding Crashers, perhaps?"
"Bingo," he laughed again.
My phone vibrated in my hand; it was a text from Kyle.
"You're singing to me in a text and i'm the loser? :P You're such a dork. Out with some of the guys. Be back soon. Sorry about leaving you by yourself. Don't miss me too much."
I laughed and shook my head as Elliott handed me a glass and sat down next to me with the popcorn.
He gave me a questioning look. "What's so funny?"
"Just Kyle being... well, Kyle," I smiled.
Then, I wrote him back. "Hey! I am not a dork. Okay, well, maybe I am but I'm a lovable dork! I'm at Elliott's now and I ain't missing you one bit! :P Haha. So get over yourself and stay out of trouble! You know what I mean. Love you."
I waited for the message to send and then tossed my phone into the empty space next to me. Elliott placed the popcorn between us, picked up the DVD remote, and pressed play. Ignoring the mouth-watering smell of the popcorn, I kicked my shoes off and curled up on the couch, leaving my head to rest on the arm of the couch. Even though the movie had just started, I could feel myself slowly drifting off to sleep. Struggling to keep my eyes open for the first few minutes of the film, I eventually gave in.
"Hey Sleepy Head," Elliott whispered, rubbing my arm ever so gently. "Not that I don't mind you sleeping here, but your phone keeps ringing. You've already missed it twice."
Sure enough, I could hear the vibrating and the faint sound of my ringtone as he held it out to me. I took it from him and strained to make out the caller ID; I didn't recognize the number but answered it anyway.
"Hello?" I murmured, still a bit groggy.
"Mikaela? Where are you?"
I couldn't identify the voice on the other end. "What? Who is this?" I sat up and desperately tried to rub the sleep from my eyes.
"It's Denny. I went by Kyle's and no one answered. Where are you? Are you okay?"
Shit. I completely forgot about meeting Denny. I checked the clock on the microwave: 9:13 PM.
But how he knew my number was beyond me. "I'm okay; I just fell asleep. I'll be there in a few."
I slipped my shoes on and hugged Elliott.
"Thanks for letting me hang out with you; I'm sorry about falling sleep."
"It's okay; I understand about being tired from the past couple of days. Trust me, I did not want to get up this morning," he smiled. "See you later, Darlin'."
I hugged him once more and headed back to Kyle's. Denny was sitting on the outside steps of Kyle's coach, not looking at all pleased when I arrived; he was dressed up in jeans and a dark dress shirt.
"Don't you look handsome," I smiled.
He glanced up from the floor and smiled when he saw me. "Thanks. Glad to see you're okay though; I was worried. You told me to meet you here and the place is completely dark and no one's answering the door."
"I'm really sorry. I came here to drop off some stuff and Kyle was gone, not one to hang out by myself much, I went to Elliott's instead. We were watching a movie and I fell asleep and lost track of time."
"That's all right. I took longer than I told you I would anyway."
I opened the door and let him in before flickering on the living room area light.
"Um…" I hesitated. "Would you mind waiting a few minutes while I got ready?"
"Not a problem. But if it means anything, what you're wearing right now is perfectly fine; you look really pretty."
I felt myself blush. "Thanks but I can't say I'm convinced." From what I could tell, my hair was a mess and my makeup was almost nonexistent.
He laughed. "Take as long as you need."
"Thanks. Make yourself at home; I'm sure Kyle won't mind."
I grabbed some clothes and headed for shower. "Oh - and speaking of Kyle, if he comes back while I'm getting ready, let me know. He might be a little intoxicated and I don't want him causing any trouble."
He nodded and turned on the TV as I walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I stepped out of bathroom and walked to where Denny was sitting on the couch.
"Ready?" I asked, grabbing my purse.
He turned off the TV and looked at me, his gaze lingering a bit before he smiled. "You look amazing."
I smiled and blushed again. "Thanks but it's nothing special." I was only wearing dark jeans and a black halter top.
We ended up at an Italian restaurant not too far from the track. Seeing as it was past ten when we arrived, there wasn't many people around us. We talked meaninglessly throughout the meal, him cracking a few jokes every now and then, and me just laughing away. It was nice to just sit and talk with someone, and without racing being the subject at hand every second; it felt normal, as if I actually knew what normal was anyway. I grew up into the racing lifestyle, I'd say that's far from normal.
"This was nice," I commented as we reached the door to Kyle's coach. "I haven't done something like that in a long time. I always feel like I'm in some sort of a rush. Like I have to get to the next destination as quickly as possible without even a real explanation as to why."
He grinned. "I'm glad I could help you to just slow down for a while." Then, it started getting awkward.
"Well, I guess I should go. Thanks again," I said, running a hand through my hair.
"We should do it again some time. Maybe even make a little bit of habit? Perhaps lunch or dinner every time you come to a race?" he suggested.
"I'd like that; I think that's a great idea actually."
Denny shifted his weight onto his other foot and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, good night, I guess." He turned to go.
"Wait..." I whispered, grabbing his arm and turning him back towards me. Gently, I drew him closer to me then lightly kissed his lips, letting him pull away ever so slightly.
He looked down at me, smiling. "What was that for?" he whispered. His face was still near my own.
"I never really got to congratulate you," I said, a smile playing its way onto my lips.
"I guess that means I need to win more often." He grinned, taking my hand in his and placing a small kiss on it.
I laughed, pulling my hand away. "Good night, you dork." I turned and opened the door as quietly as possible, a bit unsure if Kyle was asleep or even there at all.
Closing the door, flipping on a light, and dropping my purse into the nearest recliner, I noticed the sofa bed was out and neatly made up. My bag and laptop case that were once sitting on the opposite couch were now settled next to the bed. Kyle has definitely been here. The door to Kyle's bedroom was ajar but his light was off. Slipping off my shoes, I tiptoed my way towards Kyle's room and peered in, leaning against the doorframe.
He was sprawled across his bed on his back in nothing more than his boxers and light snores were coming from the room. I laughed softly and shook my head. The only thing that could have made the scene more adorable was if Kelly and Suzie, Kyle's west highland terriers, were nestled against him sound asleep as well.
I shook my head again, still smiling, and gently closed his door. Must have been one hell of a night. I quietly snuck in and out of the bathroom, changing into my pajamas and unsuccessfully taking off all of my makeup and then crawled into bed just after midnight.
