I huffed as I pressed myself into my seat, facing a large screen displaying the image of a race track ahead of me on a false imitation of what it was like to be in a motorsport race. I ran over a curb, and the seat below me jostled as the virtual representation of my car was tossed along. Come on, you can do better.

“I thought I was supposed to start training today. For real this time?”

The blonde fitness instructor in charge of overseeing the training of all the other drivers looked at me with tired eyes.

“I’m sorry Smokey, they’re having a hard time finding a crew chief for you. I think they nearly had someone they thought would fit, but they didn’t take the job. Probably think the pay isn’t worth it despite your great history. They might have to send you to another location if they can’t find someone locally.” I pressed my lips together and just focused on the feel of my feet on the pedals. I hated the feeling of the perfect virtual car gliding across a perfectly smooth track compared to being out there, driving a real car, feeling real tarmac under the wheels.

“Look, Smokey, I know you’re impatient, but they’re just trying their best to find someone who will be a perfect fit for you.” Yeah, totally not struggling to find someone willing to put up with me.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m tired of waiting. I’m losing training time. Everyone else had teams just waiting for them. Handing out contracts like candy.”

The trainer just shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Smokey. That’s just what management told me. I wish I could do more.” That’s always just ‘what management says’. I held my tongue.

I walked out to the cafeteria after another boring session of the racing simulators and found a quiet spot to sip on the iced coffee I ordered and let my head cool off. At least I made a new lap record. I tried my best to not nod off from exhaustion in the middle of the cafeteria while I flipped through an old racing magazine I’d read a few times before when suddenly, a looming shadow approached. I snapped out of my haze and looked up. A familiar tall, buff, dark skinned, brunette young man sauntered over. My buddy Ace slid onto the bench across from me and settled in to enjoy an iced tea. His security uniform was spotless like he’d just gotten it washed and his security badge nearly blinded me with its shine. His hair was combed back and gelled, a stark contrast to its usually messy appearance.

I snickered, “Whoa, what’s the special occasion?”

“I was just told I’ll be in for a bit of a long drive.” He had a slight smile on his face. Something was afoot.

“Really? What for? Why’d they get you all dressed up if you’re just going to go driving?”

“To look presentable for the Akime state Miroche racing center.” He cocked his head at me slightly.

My eyes widened a bit. “Wait really? Are you getting sent to the headquarters? That’s amazing!” I felt a tinge of jealousy but had to be happy for my friend. Going to Miroche’s main headquarters, the site of their founding, their main production factory, and the place with their biggest race track and racing center, was a huge deal. It was the highest honor you could receive if you worked for Miroche. Right now we only resided at one of their many sub facilities several hundred miles away.

Ace fidgeted with the straw in his drink and raised a brow, “No? Not for me exactly. I’m going as your escort. I thought you’d be happy I was coming with you.” Ace was at this training center learning to become a bodyguard for the security teams deployed out of this racing center, hence the fancy uniform and the sparkly new Miroche Surveyor he got to drive, decked out with a lightbar and sleek white paint job.

I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms in irritation. “What? What are you talking about?” Even though I had known him since we were in high school and went through college together, he never ceased to confuse me.

Ace furrowed his brows. “You, dummy. Didn’t they tell you?”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Tell me what, Ace?” I was getting impatient.

Ace closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, of course they didn’t. Probably going to tell you last minute tomorrow morning when we need to be leaving already.”

“Ace, why are we going to Akime?”

“I think we need to go talk to Lance.”

“Who the hell is—?” Ace just waved a hand, gesturing to follow him as he stood up. I got up, chugging the rest of my iced coffee before jogging to catch up with him.

Ace escorted me to the conference room on the floor above the main lobby.

“Mr. Callahan, were any of you going to tell poor Smokey that he’s being shipped off to Akime tomorrow morning?” Ace sat us down at the edge of a long conference table in front of a man who couldn't be older than 50, with salt and pepper colored hair and a greyed mustache. He had a perfectly ironed blue button-up shirt and tan slacks. He was sitting behind a laptop and a stack of papers. He had a fit appearance for someone his age, and small rectangular glasses perched on his nose.

“Dammit, I told someone to go tell him three days ago! You have got to be kidding me…” Lance had a deep, raspy voice that almost sounded like a growl as he complained. Ace glanced at me nervously.

“Goddamn receptionists… Right,” Lance sighed in exasperation, leaning an elbow on the table and pulling his glasses off. “I was supposed to introduce myself tomorrow to keep it a formal thing when you arrive at your new place since I’m not supposed to even be here, but I guess I’ll do it now. I’m Lance Callahan, I’ve been assigned to be your crew chief. Er rather, my race engineer took your contract.”

My heart skipped a beat and I felt my face get warm. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Callahan—” I didn’t realize I had been facing my crew chief, once and for all, after a year of waiting. Why didn’t Ace tell me? I didn’t know how to act. I had never met someone with such authority in just the way he held himself. No one as honored as a fully fledged crew chief.

Lance straightened up in his seat, hooking his glasses on his shirt collar. “Lance. Just— Just Lance.” His tone was sharp as he corrected me.

“Got it.” I nodded quickly and swallowed my fear. “Can I ask, did you really race? What division?” I was skeptical that he had been a race car driver. He looked like an office worker for a law firm or something. Pristine collared shirt, the uptight attitude, and the glasses to top it all off.

“Of course I raced. Did Touring. Like you.” Lance huffed out a stiff laugh, clasping his hands together on top of the table. “You have to be a driver to make a good crew chief.”

“Right, er sorry. So about Akime—”

“You’ve been moved out to Silkeholt in Akime for this contract. I live out there, working out of the main Miroche headquarters. I came down here for a meeting with the supervisors to see if I’d be a good fit and to oversee your journey to HQ.” Lance took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before standing up, his hands resting on the table as he spoke. “I was going to introduce myself tomorrow at your introduction, as is tradition, but it seems we’ve run into an issue.” Lance straightened up and walked around the conference table and picked up a clipboard from atop the stack of papers next to the laptop and gestured for us to follow.

Lance led us out of the conference room and we headed downstairs. He walked with a strong air of confidence.

“Right, that receptionist was supposed to tell you what to do the day before leaving. Now you’re going to have to cram all your packing since it’s already past noon.” Lance looked over to Ace, “Help him out, would ya?”

Ace nodded. “Yessir.”

“If you’re going to be his bodyguard, then you best get used to it.” I looked over at Ace and he nodded again, confirming what I heard.

Ace lightly elbowed me in the side before wrapping his arm around my shoulders, making me stagger under the amazing weight of his stature.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotten used to it.”

After a few long hours of packing up the decor and old highschool racing trophies and my favorite jackets from my garage into a transport trailer, I helped Ace pack his own garage and loaded his cruiser SUV with tubs of his own personal memorabilia.

“Ace!” A familiar gruff voice called out at us and I whipped my head around to see an irritated looking Lance. “Why is our rookie still out here doing work? He needs to go talk to the front desk for his racing certification and license and fill out his transfer forms! I thought you two had finished up.” Ace opened his mouth to speak but I stood in front of him, confronting Lance myself.

“I said I’d help him pack because he helped me pack. Don’t get mad at him.” I felt a bit defensive of him pinning the blame on my friend. Lance reached up to rub his temple for a moment before his arm dropped to his side.

“Right, I’ll help Ace. You need to get the last of the paperwork filled out so you can rest on the drive over. You’d be surprised how tiring a long haul trip across the states can be, even in the back of a semi.”

I felt a prickle of excitement run up my spine. “I get to ride—?”

“Yes.” Lance closed his eyes briefly and nodded.

“Just like a real driver…” I felt my neck hair stand on end as my heart fluttered. “Sorry, Ace. See you in the morning.” I waved a hand wildly in the air as I started off for the lobby and I could hear Ace chuckle at me as I jogged away.

I woke up in my dorm room, mostly empty now except for my bed and a stack of boxes in the hallway near the door. After a few stretches, so I wouldn’t break my back, Ace joined me and helped pick up a few of my boxes and escorted me outside to the parking lot below, which was currently occupied by three trailers and a couple limousines. I peered in through the limo’s reflective windows and could make out a cushy interior. The left wall had a fine leather sofa taking up the wall, and across from it was a bar table with a cooler underneath.

Ace clapped the dust off his hands and sighed. “The truck drivers will be here soon to fetch us. Oh, and here.” Ace grabbed a small cooler box off the bed of the storage trailer. “I got you an iced tea and something to eat before we leave. Wait here until the drivers arrive. I need to fuel up the cruiser, but I’ll be back in a minute.” I nodded wearily to thank him. I leaned against the lamppost nearby to eat a refreshing salad and some muffins. Once I finished my food, my leg bounced and I picked lint off my shirt as I impatiently waited for Ace to come back, or for one of the truck drivers to show up. As I looked off at the clouds behind the mountains in the distance, a familiar tired old voice spoke quietly behind me.

“Mercer?” I stood up tall, taking my weight off the lamppost, and crossed my arms as I spotted Lance, who was holding some sort of radio in his hands.

“Good morning sir.” I nodded briefly in greeting and Lance made a disgusted sort of face. “Stop with the formalities. You’re makin’ me feel old.”

“Uh yes Mr—uh… Yes, chief.”

“Right. Here, this is your radio for the trip. If you need anything or need to stop while we’re on the road, just press the button on the side here to talk. Channel one will connect you to the truck driver, and channel two has me and Ace on it.” Lance handed me the radio and gestured to his own which was attached to his belt. I clipped mine on my belt on the same spot. Lance walked past me now and began inspecting the supply trailer to close it up.

“Right so uh… What happens if this doesn’t work out?”

Lance sighed, shrugging. “You might come back here I suppose. Find another team to work with you. Let’s hope it ain’t gonna come to that.”

We had closed up the trailers, Lance getting into the other limousine, and we headed off. It was going to be a several hour drive. The first few hours were fine. First I took a nap, since I had gotten up earlier than I was used to, and then watched a movie on the small screen mounted above the bar. After that, I had another iced tea from the ice box and was at a loss for how to occupy my time. I noticed the thick black velvet curtains and pulled a cord to reel them back. I looked out of the dark windows but not much was to be seen outside. Now It was just a long stretch of road with a sparse forest on either side, the occasional car outside passing by or coming down the oncoming lanes. I was starting to get cramped up in here and wished I could at least be the one driving. I always loved long cruises along the freeway with the windows rolled down and wind in my hair. I leaned over to unhook the radio from my belt and pressed the call button on the side.

We pulled over to the next truck stop about 20 excruciating minutes later, and all the trailers and security escorts took the chance to refuel the semis and their cruisers and refill a couple of the fuel cans the cruisers had used up. I got out and stretched my legs, walking back and forth along the unoccupied edge of the parking lot while some of Ace’s coworkers stood around, trying to look casual as they watched me.

“How you doin’ rookie?” Lance stepped out of a limo and stuck his hands in his pants pockets as he strolled towards me. He looked tired, like he woke up from a nap.

I shrugged and tilted my head lazily to the side as I paced. “Fine. A bit bored.” I followed Lance to a shady where I leaned against the side of a trailer, hooking my thumbs on my belt loops. I looked out at the road, eyeing the cars passing us on the main road. “So what sort of racing did you used to do? Touring, right? Which series?” Lance was quiet and looked out at the forest beyond the edges of the gas station. “Yes. Mostly technical circuits. I did the Silkeholt GT Series back in the day. I did autocross once or twice too.”

I let out a sharp laugh, nodded my head slowly. “So that’s why they picked you. They told me I didn’t know the first thing about apexes and racing lines.” I snickered, never believing that since it was always my specialty.

Lance pushed his glasses up his nose. “And you are in the Sprint division?”

“Touring.”

He sighed, and I could see him fidget with something in his pockets. “Oh boy. Who’s idea was that? Yours?” Something tightened in my chest. The way he said that made my ears get hot and I crossed my arms across my chest.

“What do you mean, ‘oh boy’?” I felt my jaw tighten.

“Nothing. Just extra work.” He raised his brows. I felt my face get uncomfortably warm as I bit my cheek to distract myself from my nerves.

“Well, the academy said something about being good enough for touring. They said my lap times were strong enough to hold my own. So I don’t really see a problem here.” I lifted my lip in defiance, looking away and avoiding his gaze.

“Sure they did.” He gave me a tight smile. “Lap times on paper don’t mean jack until you’ve run them where it counts. Out with the other cars, fighting for your place.” He laughed. He’s laughing. “Guess we’ll see if you’re here ‘cause of talent, or if someone really wanted to believe in potential.” Lance spat the last words out.

“Must be real nice, sitting up there deciding who’s got real potential and who’s just lucky someone gave a damn.” My lip quivered as I clenched my jaw, heat crawling up my neck like a fuse ready to blow.

“Excuse me?” Lance stood up tall, hands still in his pant pockets, and glared at me.

“You heard me.” I clenched my fists while my arms were crossed. Heat prickled under my skin as I squared my shoulders.

Lance sneered. “I sure did boy, and if you keep this attitude up, you’re not going to have a crew chief.” Something about this guy made me itch, and I felt my patience thinning like a frayed rope, ready to snap.

“I don’t need you here,” I scoffed, “You know that right? I can always find another team. You’re not the only crew chief out there.” My muscles tensed, a knot forming in my stomach as the words left my mouth, the anger coiling tighter in my chest with each breath.Lance’s sneer dropped but his eyes narrowed into a cold stare.

“Fine, champ. Go teach yourself how to drive then. Don’t come crying to me when you get in your first wreck on the practice course.” Lance stormed back to his limo, shoulders tense and his footsteps quick and heavy as his polished leather shoes clacked against the concrete. I watched him storm off, irritation still boiling in my chest as a tight knot of regret tied itself inside my chest.

I sat alone in the cushy, luxurious transport trailer, my anger slowly fizzling out. The rush of adrenaline that had fueled my defensive outburst was gone, replaced by a heavy weight in my chest. I tried to ignore it, leaning back on the leather sofa, but the bitterness I had spat at Lance tainted everything I tried to distract myself with. I couldn’t take it back. Now, I was just left with this sinking feeling.

After the last truck stop, my ride came to a standstill and Ace called out over the radio that we had arrived at Miroche’s headquarters. I clicked the door control button and the bright sun blinded me for a moment before I stepped out into a parking lot for a massive modern art deco building. Ace looked at me with his eyebrows pointedly raised. I shook my head in confusion and lifted my hands up in questioning.

“What?”

“What did you say to Lance? He’s pissed!” His eyes were wide in disbelief as his gaze darted to Lance’s limo temporarily.

“Nothing. It’s between us.”

“Did you already piss him off? That’s—”

“He works for me, right?” I snapped, “I can fire him if he pisses me off anymore, got it?” I only gave Ace a cold glare to tell him to silently knock it off before he grimaced and turned to escort me to the front entrance. So much for waiting for a team. Academy was better than this, and I’ve been at it for barely a day.

I trudged through the lobby, barely glancing at the polished walls and all the proud, framed photos of past champions. Drivers passed me in pairs or small groups, all of them talking shop or laughing too loud. None of them had a care in the world, seemingly unbothered. Some were already suited up, smelling like burnt rubber and exhaust, while others lounged around in colorful team gear. The place was buzzing with motion and activity, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I just kept my head down as I made my way to the front desk, pretending like I didn’t feel every stare on me from across the room.

Once I got to the front desk, I gave them my competition license and identifying information. The kind receptionist gave me keys to a dorm room where I would be staying and could pack away my stuff, but now I wasn’t excited to set up in my new place. I stormed back to the parking lot to grab some of my things from the storage trailer alongside Ace. As we trudged back toward the dorms with a couple large boxes in our arms, I caught a glimpse beyond some buildings of a racetrack with a tall stadium a bit aways on the property. It was lit up in the afternoon by the tall stadium lights.

“Ah Smokey, I just got a call,” Ace paused after unloading a couple boxes of my belongings in front of my dorm room, “You need to go to their physician’s office and get a physical exam. I can finish up here before I go to my security briefing, I have lots of time. One of the other guards can go with you over there if you want. I know you don’t trust anyone else with your stuff.” I just nodded, giving a half-hearted wave before I headed back to the lobby on my own where the receptionist found a security guard to escort me across the property.

I rolled into a stand alone office building painted a sterile white inside and found Lance sitting in one of the stiff black metal chairs off to the side of the room. He had his glasses on, nose in a book, and a hollow expression on his face. I was quickly brought back by a nurse and I sat on the exam table under the harsh white lights. A soft spoken doctor with a long white coat, Dr. Venn, quickly did a full physical and deemed me to be in good health. She walked me out to the waiting room where Lance still sat, reading his book like it was the most interesting thing on earth.

“Well, Lance, your driver is in perfect shape.” The doctor pushed her glasses up her nose, and Lance glanced up from his book, “He has a couple prescriptions that we’re waiting on getting filled at the nearby pharmacy, but other than that, we won’t be seeing him back for a bit. Oh, and we took his measurements, those will be sent to get him fitted for a race suit. He’ll fit in a medium for the meantime.” Lance just nodded, tucking his book under his arm.

“Thanks Venn.” He waved an arm in a gesture to follow him as we left the doc’s office.

Lance led me back to the racing hub building, into one of several large conference rooms down a wide hallway on the bottom floor. He only told me I had a briefing. One at a time, a few cars drove in, including one of the nurses I had seen, and some other new faces. Lance only spoke to point out the staff present. One was the headmaster, a tall, wide shouldered man in a black suit, and the superintendent, a refined older woman with a sharp dress suit. When the meeting started, I learned I had a driving evaluation scheduled tomorrow afternoon on the simulators in the main building so they could come up with a sort of training regime and get a handle on my driving style.

The meeting dragged on, and they went over the campus rules, guidelines, etiquette, and how the security here would always make sure I’m safe and not doing stupid shit. Or to make sure no one broke in to gawk at all the famous driver’s just walking around. After the introductory briefing was finally over, it was getting late, and I was told I could go to my dorm to rest.

My room was like a five-star hotel room. King sized bed sat in the center of the room, there was a large floor to ceiling window on the far wall, a TV perched on the wall across the bed, a marble-topped table with soft velvety chairs shoved off in a corner, and of course a separate kitchen and bathroom. I locked the door when I got in, and turned the lights low as I got cleaned up. I peeled open a cardboard box near the door with my clothes in it and threw on a comfy shirt and shorts and decided I’d throw my clothes into the closet whenever I had a day off. For now I just wanted to kick back.

I headed to the bathroom and washed up. I looked up at myself in the mirror. I didn’t really recognize the man looking back at me. I didn’t even bear the same name anymore. My hair, once a dark brown, was a messy dirty blonde from years of sun bleaching from exercising in the sun. My hands, once the soft, innocent hands of a child, now calloused and scratched from years of holding steering wheels and bumping my knuckles while working on my old cars.

Even though my eyes were heavy, I couldn’t sleep that night. I laid in bed, splayed out on my stomach with my head resting on top of my arms and cocked to the side to look outside at the black void beyond the tall window. I had a heavy ache in my chest and I still had a buzzing feeling through my body that felt like I was on the verge of another rage induced mental break. This is how you're starting your racing career? After waiting for this long to get here? Some fun this is. I thought professional racing was supposed to be better.