Chapter 210 Miami Vice
November in Florida was generally warmer than most states, but as Case prepared to climb behind the steering wheel for the last time this season, he was sweating beneath his fire suit. He prayed no one could tell. He did his best to hide his physical reaction to the stress of competing for the title, but it was nearly impossible. His nerves were causing his stomach to tangle into knots, and if he hadn’t already put his gloves on, he was certain it would be obvious how sweaty his hands were.
“You look cool as a cucumber,” Andrea said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. The National Anthem had just finished, and it was time to say a quick prayer with his team and climb into the car.
“Do I?” he asked, smiling at her. He leaned close to her ear. “It’s a façade.”
Andrea giggled. “You’ve got this. As long as you finish in the top ten, you’re the champion.”
“You make it sound like that’s easy.”
“It is. For you.”
He wanted to respond but didn’t get the chance to. His team had circled up, and Brad was saying a prayer, like he did every week. Most teams did. This time, Case put in his own two cents, praying he didn’t wreck, didn’t get taken out early, didn’t end up losing the championship on the last lap, just like he had the year before.
Brad said, “Amen,” and they broke ranks, his team telling him to “go get ‘em” and “break a leg,” etc. Case headed to the car, ready to climb in.
“I’ll see you after the race,” Andrea said as he prepared to climb in. “Be careful. I love you.”
Case bent and kissed her on the cheek, reminding himself that, no matter what happened on the race track, he was the luckiest man alive to have such a beautiful woman in his life, preparing to become his wife. While it would be nice to have the championship, at least he had Andrea, and nothing could ever change that.
Case climbed through the window and buckled into his car. He put his helmet on and hooked up all the various hoses and everything else that made his ride smoother and safer. As he pulled out to take his spot behind the car in front of him, he heard Truitt’s calm voice in his ear. “Let’s take it slow, keep it clean, and get that championship!”
“Ten-four,” Case said in agreement. He was starting fifteenth. As long as he finished in the top ten or ahead of Stewart Antony, who was in second place in the points, he would win the championship. It seemed easy enough, but Stewart had a good car and was starting seventh. Case would either have to pass him or pass and stay ahead of five other cars. Then, the championship would be his.
Homestead-Miami Speedway was one of Case’s favorite tracks. It wasn’t a superspeedway like nearby Daytona, but it was fast. Most of the time, there weren’t too many wrecks here. It should be a fairly clean race, so long as no one did anything stupid. The fact that Whiskey wasn’t racing and Stewart couldn’t take the risk of wrecking himself made Case feel good about his chances of avoiding shenanigans.
The race went green, and Case hit the gas, ready to put in five hundred miles and hopefully walk away with a championship.
As soon as the race started, all of the jitters and nervousness Case had felt before went away, and he found himself in the zone quickly, working his way through traffic and doing what he loved to do—racing. He had a smile on his face and could practically feel the wind in his hair as he passed car after car, gaining on the leader, and watching the laps tick down.
The only cautions were for a flat tire that caused a car to spin out and a blown engine. The rest of the time, the race was green. With only fifteen laps to go, Case was in third place, sitting pretty, and fairly certain he had the championship in the bag.
The two cars in front of him were better cars. Since Case didn’t need to win the race to win the championship, there was no point for him to risk wrecking his car trying to chase them down. All he really needed to do was cruise around the track a few more times and avoid any catastrophes. It seemed easy enough, especially as spread out as the cars were on the track. There hadn’t been a caution flag in a long time, so there were less chances of there being one anytime soon since cautions tended to bread cautions.
Case was even allowing himself to picture what it would be like hefting that championship trophy over his head… the fans cheering… his team patting his back… Andrea’s adoring smile….
So when the car spinning across the track came his direction, his reaction wasn’t quite as quick as it would’ve normally been. Muttering a curse word under his breathe, Case took evasive action, praying he’d miss the spinning car and come out of this unscathed. Or else, the championship would slip away, just like the vision of himself lifting the trophy had disappeared from his mind the second he’d seen the oncoming traffic.
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