Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4) (3 page)

As I followed the security guard to Danny’s office, I clutched my security pass tightly. I slipped my hand, pass and all, into the pocket of my jeans. I silently dared anyone to try to take that little piece of plastic from me.

Driver
. I could still see the word emblazoned in front of my eyes; six little black letters that meant so much.

The guard left me at the door to Danny’s office, and I knocked to get permission to come in.

“Enter,” Danny called from his desk.

I walked into the room with a newfound purpose.
Driver
.

“Declan Reede,” Danny started, a small but welcoming smile crossing his features. “I trust everyone is settled in at home.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Danny raised an eyebrow at me. I wondered if he could sense my excitement and my willingness to toe the company line if it meant I could be back in the hot seat. Or maybe he was just relieved that there hadn’t been any new scandals despite my plans for New Year’s.

“Liam is very excited to have you on board,” Danny said. “Although, I have to say you are the oldest first-year apprentice we’ve ever had.”

I nodded, afraid that talking would break whatever magical spell or good mood Danny was in.

“I also have some news, Declan, concerning your position here.”

“Yes?” I forced out around my nerves and building excitement.

“I’ve decided to run another car this year.”

My mouth involuntarily crept into a grin. Another car. Three V8s—three drivers. I swallowed down the huge bubble of excitement building in my middle. With thoughts of being back in the car again racing through my head, I had to remind myself to breathe.

Already, I could smell the rubber and hot bitumen. Could feel the vibration of the car on the track. Sense the heat in the cabin. It was all so familiar and I wanted it all so desperately. Danny continued to talk, but I was lost. My mind filled with the track, with the music of the machine, and with the hum of the crowds trackside at an event. It pulsed through my veins and hummed in my ears. Perfect.

“. . . of course, your pit duties will take precedence on race day,” he finished.

“Huh?” I asked, confused because I hadn’t listened to the first part of his conversation. My mind raced over the possibilities of how I could be in the pits and on the track at the same time. It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t want you losing that unique touch that makes you such a skilled driver,” he said. “But I also think the time with Liam will serve you well. Understanding how the cars tick can only help in the long run.”

I nodded, wishing I could ask him to repeat himself, but knowing that admitting I hadn’t been paying attention wouldn’t be the best move right now. Not within the first hour of being back on board.

“So?” Danny asked. “Do you want to see your new car?”

I grinned. “Fuck yes!”

“I have to say, Declan, you’re really surprising me,” he said as he pointed me out of the office toward the garages. “I wasn’t sure how you would take this. I was a bit worried, in fact, but you seem to be very understanding.”

“I get to drive again,” I said. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. That sort of mature attitude is going to take you far.”

As soon as we reached the shed, Liam came over. His palms were greasy, but he stuck it out for me to shake regardless. It was clearly a test, so I met his eye and shook his hand anyway. I had worked on my karts when I used to race them, and serviced my own cars at home, so I wasn’t exactly afraid of a bit of grease.

“Welcome aboard, kid.” He chuckled, slapping me on my back.

“Thanks, Spanners,” I said, using the nickname his crew had given him. Drivers and the team management almost never used the nickname, but I figured if I was going to be working alongside him, I should get used to it. After all, it would seem like I was brownnosing to use his real name. It would be easier to be accepted if I acted like I belonged in the pits. More than anything, I had to be one of the boys if I wanted to find my feet there—not that I’d need them for long if I was going to be back in the driver seat.

“That reminds me,” he said. “We’ll have to think of a nickname for you too, kid.”

“Try squirt,” Morgan called as he made his way over to us. “It always worked for me.”

“Fuck off,” I hissed at him. That nickname had been nothing but trouble for me over the years.

“Aww, is ickle squirt angwy about his nickname?” Morgan asked in a mock-baby voice. He slapped me on the back. “Seriously though, dude, welcome back.”

“Fuck you very much,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble fitting in with the boys down here with that attitude,” Liam said. “I never really doubted that too much anyway, or else I never would have agreed to Danny’s suggestion. I wouldn’t want to put a cat among the pigeons.”

I nodded, but was largely ignoring him because I saw Danny pull out his key card to get into the end shed. The new car was obviously in there. I wondered whether it was a brand-new VFII Commodore or one of the old VFs rebuilt. Not that I minded either way; I was just happy to be back.

I stood anxiously behind Danny as he pushed open the door. The car was red and almost bare, with only a handful of sponsor stickers. Based on the placement, I guessed they were the series sponsors stickers and nothing to do with the team. But worse, so much worse, was that it was
not
the car I was expecting.

Not even close.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted as I took in the car. To say it wasn’t what I expected was a goddamned understatement. To say the sight of it pissed me the fuck off would be, too. “What the fuck is
that
?”

Danny turned to me, surprised. “That’s the new car. We’re trialling the series this year, as a privateer for now. If it’s successful, we’ll run it again next year with sponsors.”

“But,” I said incredulously, “it’s a fucking Mini!”

“You’d be surprised how much the crowds are getting behind these cars,” Danny said. He shot a pointed glance at Liam, who left the room without saying another word. In fact, Liam looked almost relieved for the opportunity to escape.

Oh, fuck.

Danny shut the door and locked it so that we were completely alone before he turned back to me.

“Why didn’t you give me this reaction up in my office?” he asked with a voice of ice and steel.

Fuck.
I’d fucked up again.

“That’s why I met you up there first.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you
deliberately
trying to embarrass me in front of everyone? Because I guarantee you, Declan, that will
not
work out well for you. Not as far as a position here goes at least.”

“Shit, no, fuck,” I said, trying to backpedal as fast as I could. “I just, uh, well, I-just-thought-it-would-be-a-V8.” The words tumbled from my mouth as one jumbled mess.

“A V8?” He was incredulous and his eyes flashed with something akin to disbelief.

I swallowed down the rising tide of
oh fucks
and
holy shits
that bubbled to my tongue.

“After everything I told you about sponsors and racing when we discussed you coming back, you seriously thought I’d put you back into a V8 already? Do you have any idea how much those things cost to run? To fix? I can’t do that without sponsors, and no one is willing to put their name anywhere near your reputation at the moment.”

“So, who’s paying for this car then?” I asked, confused.

“I am.” Danny’s voice was still cold. Hard.

Fuck!

“I thought you’d appreciate the fact that I was trying to ensure you still had some time on the track and would be able to keep your skills honed, even if it isn’t in the car you wanted. But if you’re satisfied with wielding a goddamned wrench for the rest of your life, then suit yourself.”

I needed to do some serious backpedalling, and a shitload of grovelling. “No, fuck, I mean thanks. I get it. I was just . . . surprised.” I looked at the Mini again and winced.

Why a Mini? Why couldn’t I just go back to a fucking production car or some shit? Even as the thought struck me, I knew the answer. It was also a test. My life until I got back behind the wheel properly was no doubt going to be a series of fucking tests to see if I had the mettle and maturity to be driving again. Until I’d proven it without a doubt, Danny wouldn’t let me near anything more expensive.

Well, if that was what they wanted to do, I would just have to man the fuck up and deal. At least I would be back racing competitively again.

Even if it was in a fucking Mini
.

THE REST of my first day back at Sinclair Racing passed relatively smoothly. Most of the mechanics seemed to be willing to accept me—even if they did choose the nickname Spark Plug for me because I was replaced so easily when the spark went out of my career.
Fuckers
.

The only dark patch on my day, besides the fucking drama with the Mini, was Hunter Blake, the fucking psycho who’d replaced me in the driver seat and seemed to have made it his objective to give me hell. And not in a “find me a left-handed screwdriver” way, like the boys in the sheds.

Instead, he found my weak spots and rode them hard all day. He asked about Alyssa, insisting she was too far out of my league, and that he would show her what a real man was like the first chance he had. He said things to me which, had they come from Morgan, would usually have warranted a fuck-you and a laugh before we’d have moved on. But because they came from Hunter, his words stuck in my craw and scratched until I was irritated and aching.

By the end of the day, I was dirty, tired, and sick to fucking death of the lunatic. It had been a long time since I’d had a day quite that hard. Usually, my hours at Sinclair were filled with meetings, strategy, and just general fucking around.

I rang Alyssa to ask her to bring my 4WD to pick me up rather than the Monaro, and to put a garbage bag over the seat as well. There was no fucking way I was going anywhere near my Monaro covered in as much grease as I was. I made a mental note to remember how dirty I would get in the future, even though I nearly cried thinking it. Driving my Monaro home to be with my girls should have been the highlight of my day every day, but now it would be reserved for special occasions. I needed to know I was able to drive at least one V8 and not live in a world full of fucking Minis and Micro-series cars.

Eden found me just before I left for the end of the day. Her excitement bubbled onto her face when she bounced up to me.

“Welcome back!” She threw her arms around my neck even though I was covered in shit.

“Thanks, Edie. It’s good to be back.”

She leaned against the toolbox. “Did you like your surprise?”

“You could have given me a little more warning,” I said before telling her about the incident with the Mini.

As my story went on, she was all but doubled over with laughter. “Only you could manage that,” she responded when I finished.

“Fuck you, Edie,” I said, but my laughter told her I wasn’t serious.

“I heard a rumour on the grapevine today too. I thought you might be interested.”

She was better connected than most team owners. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, apparently after your first no, Paige started working to get Anderson on her team.”

“Okay. And?”

“And she pulled out of negotiations when she thought she had another driver stitched up. A driver who fell through on New Year’s.”

I chuckled. “Well, sucks to be her, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, now she’s scrambling to get another driver. Any other driver. She’ll probably have to bump Jenkins from production cars, and you know he’s not ready.”

“If she puts him up now, what’s she going to do for a second driver in the enduros?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“You know what? It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person.”

She chuckled. “I thought the same thing. I saw Alyssa drop you off this morning. Is she picking you up too?”

“Yeah. In fact, she’ll be due any minute.”

Eden linked her arm with mine and led me to the door. “Well, let’s not keep her waiting. I want to say hi.”

I shouted out a “see ya” to everyone else left in the workshop as I followed Eden out.

Alyssa was already waiting when we reached the car park. She’d picked Phoebe up on the way over to my work, which was probably a good thing, because I was just anxious to get home, have a shower, and crawl into bed. I was ready to wash away the filth of my first day and hope for better ones to come.

Five minutes down the road, I started to tell Alyssa about my day. “Danny's running a new car this year. In a new series.”

“Okay?” It was clear she had no idea where my conversation was going.

“He wants me to drive it,” I finished.

A broad smile stretched across Alyssa’s face. “Really? That’s awesome.”