ALICE Ch 121

Grid girls in bikinis dance, fighter jets shriek across the sky, music blares, and the sun turns anything white into a blinding starburst. The noise dies down, at least as much as it can as the circuit clears. The stands are packed and alive. The radio channel goes nonstop in Alice’s ear. She’s sweating in her suit as she takes her place on the grid alongside Max. There’s a smudge on her visor and the queasy nerves of go-time bubble in her empty stomach. Her gloved hands tighten on the wheel.

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Glynda Darcy takes her place on the Pit Wall, adjusting her headset and fixing her lanyard, which has gotten caught in her cleavage again. She breathes deeply through her nose, her eyes on her screen.

She’s hung over. How, exactly, is one supposed to absolutely hate someone while also having all of one’s hopes riding on her? She stares intently at the labeled dot representing Alice Wilde in P2.

Glynda hasn’t figured it out yet, and that only makes her angrier. Lora glances over at her and sees the mangled water bottle that Glynda is unconsciously gripping. She wisely chooses to say nothing.

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Kylie’s in her hotel room, watching the race on TV with her feet up. She’s a little worried; Alice has been oddly… what’s the word? Normal? No. Normal for Alice is horny, so not acting horny is abnormal. In any case, Alice hasn’t been flirting. Maybe she’s sick. Kylie cringes at the thought. That P2 is a big deal. She hopes that Alice doesn’t blow it.

Then there’s this thing about Alice and Faye, supposedly. Kylie just smiles and shakes her head. Alice is such a cliché. And yet… there’s something refreshing about that. Alice has no agenda beyond the obvious: driving fast and chasing women. There’s no malice or deception. She’s just… doing her thing.

Kylie clears her throat and readjusts her position, crossing her feet at the ankles and trying not to think about that night and what it was like to have Alice inside her. It’s not as though there’s anything special about Alice’s penis. It’s not the biggest that Kylie’s had, nor is Alice the most skilled that Kylie’s been with. Especially that night, which was ragged to say the least. It was still different. And it was different from all those playful handjobs.

There was nothing playful about that night.

Kylie folds her arms and glowers at the screen.

“Come on, Alice,” she mutters.

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Heat shimmers on the track. Through it, the lights waver.

Alice focuses and her troubles fall away as the red lights start to come on. Waiting is always the hardest part. The wait is over. This is what she lives for; not signing autographs or giving interviews: driving.

She remembers that night in Gurlberg after soccer ended. They didn’t do very well, but Coach Riley and Coach Adella had still taken everybody for pizza.

Val had been the one to press her nose against the window and jab her finger on the glass, asking about the Go Kart place across the street in the muggy Florida night.

Alice smiles at the thought and the lights go out.