Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“Until and unless,” I repeated dutifully, ignoring the twinge in my chest. I started to walk around him. “You said you had a few things rub you the wrong way, but then you distracted me. What was the other?”
“A text from my father.” I turned to face him, but he was already shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay, Gus? Not yet. Let’s get back out there before they send out a search party or Frank spills the beans.”
23
WADE
The Saturday morning we gutted the bug didn’t go the way I thought it would. August had planned to keep me company for it, but while we were getting dressed, Gene called and told her he and Lucy were dropping by to pick her up. A friend of his with a track membership had volunteered to take her and Bernie out in his racecar. A step up from the go-karts she’d finally been getting the hang of.
She’d been torn, but I convinced her it was a good idea, and that I wanted her getting as much experience in her gear and at the track as she could before the race. What I left out was that I didn’t want her to see this part. She might be fine with the end results, but getting there would be messy and the car still meant something to her. I wasn’t looking forward to it either, or spending the day with no one but silent Rick beside me as we tore the VW apart, but I’d manage.
Two words: If. Only.
The minute I walked in the door, Kingston was waiting with his camera and an endless supply of questions. Five minutes later, Chick showed up with Rick to “help,” in a pair of white pants I highly doubted would survive the day. At least Dalton was on hand to balance things out, while getting his first taste of what being the mechanic for the team would require.
If I had to title this day? I might call it The Gut Punch. It felt appropriate.
“Why are you removing the driver’s seat?” Kingston asked, his hand cam aimed over the open door to get footage of us disconnecting the seat heaters I’d installed. “Won’t you need it for the race?”
I pulled the seat out and hauled it over to the floor space we’d designated for salvage parts. “One, we need the room to work in here, and two, it’ll have to be replaced with a lightweight racing seat with the proper openings for the harness.”
“What’ll you do with everything you take out?”
“Sell it, if it’s worth anything. We can’t sell spare parts to recoup the cost of the car or mission-critical parts to upgrade them, but we can sell whatever we want to pay for safety gear and other equipment.”
When I popped out the backseat bench, Chick was there to grab it out of my hands. I glanced at him in surprise, then nodded before ducking back in to unbolt the backrest.
“Won’t taking out the backseat make it really loud in there?” Kingston asked. “And hot? I mean, won’t the engine be right there in the passenger compartment?”
I shook my head. “There’s a firewall built in. Plus, the drivers will be wearing helmets with mics, so hopefully engine noise won’t be an issue. And they’ll use a cooling suit system to keep from getting overheated.”
I handed the backrest to Chick and then grabbed a plastic bag. Sitting on the yellow frame, I unscrewed the window crank, door handle bowl and armrest while Rick did the same on the passenger side.
Kingston crouched to get a closer shot of my hands. “If you told me about everything you’re doing as you do it, I wouldn’t have to ask a bunch of stupid questions.”
“I’m a mechanic, not a narrator.”
“And I’m making a documentary, not a silent movie.”
After we’d dropped all the parts into the bag, I sealed it and handed it to Chick with instructions to label it, then pried off the panel with the screwdriver to reveal the door’s interior.
“Can’t you do voiceovers later or something?” I grumbled as I pulled off the springs that had held the panel rigid.
“We’ll do some of that too, but the whole point is to experience it from your point of view, not mine. Where’s August, by the way? I thought she’d be here for this.”
“He wants reaction shots of her watching her mother’s car stripped for parts.” Chick sounded mildly disgusted. “I thought you were interested in a feel-good story instead of trauma porn.”
What he said.
Kingston ignored him but changed topics, continuing to pelt me with questions about the car while we removed the side and the rear windows, stereo system and speakers, headliner and carpet. Every now and then, Chick would offer suggestions for shots and ask questions of his own, which didn’t earn him points with the director. At some point late in the morning, after we’d gotten most of the hard work out of the way, Dalton disappeared for ten minutes, showing back up with Wanda in his arms and another puppy in a sling across his chest.