Barbara Dunlop - Overheated

“Larry,” Crystal tried again, tugging his arm. She hadn’t expected things to go off the rails this quickly nor this completely.

Steve slid her a look of contempt.

“What?” she found herself asking.

“He thinks you’re after my money,” said Larry.

Steve’s jaw dropped a quarter inch, and Kent took a step back.

“You what?” asked Crystal, too astonished to maintain her facade.

“Dad,” Steve protested.

“We might as well put our cards on the table.” Larry looked to Crystal. “Are you after my money?”

“Absolutely not.” She crossed her arms over her chest and confronted Steve. “I’m after his body.”

“This isn’t a joke,” he growled.

Kent grabbed Steve’s arm and bodily moved him to one side. “We’re late,” he said with finality. “The rest of this is going to have to wait.” Then he steered Steve around Larry and Crystal.

“See what I mean?” Larry said to Crystal as the two men disappeared. “People are going to assume the worst.”

Steve hadn’t even given Crystal a chance.

Larry took her hand again. “Steve and your mother,” he sighed. “I’m waiting for Milo’s reaction, as well as the rest of the family. Imagine what perfect strangers are going to say.”

“I don’t care,” Crystal asserted. She truly didn’t. She was willing to put up a fight for Larry. She had to believe that Steve would eventually calm down. Over time, he’d be forced to believe she wasn’t after Larry’s money.

As for the strangers? They were strangers. Who cared what they thought or said? But family…they could make it difficult.

Just then, three men dressed in orange and brown Fulcrum Racing uniforms walked by. They gazed at Larry, then their attention shifted to Crystal, then one nudged the other and made a sly-smiled comment.

Larry made a sound of frustration deep in his throat.

“I didn’t even see that,” said Crystal, pointedly looking straight ahead.

But it was frustrating to have her looks prejudice people’s reactions all over again. With Simon, men had always given him automatic respect and a lucky dog smirk while she was on his arm. And he’d preened under the attention. With Larry, it was the opposite. It was clear people thought he’d somehow bought and paid for her.

“IT’S THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR a fifty-two second lap,” said Dean, protecting his rib cage as he eased his body into a lawn chair on the rough grass outside his motor home. The awning provided shade from the waning sun, while a light breeze rustled the red-checked table cloth next to the stainless-steel propane barbecue.

“Will it bother you tomorrow?” asked crew chief, Perry Noble, helping himself to a soda from the cooler.

“Just a bruise,” said Dean, his gaze resting on Larry and Crystal.

Crystal caught Patsy’s profile as she set out chips and salsa next to a fruit platter and smoothed the table cloth. Her movements were clipped and precise.

“Larry,” Dean greeted. “Crystal.”

Crystal glanced at Dean, expecting disapproval, so she wasn’t surprised when it was there in his expression. But she was more worried about Patsy.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” she said to Dean.

“That’s racing. Besides, it’s nothing,” said Dean, while Patsy marched back into the motor home.

Crystal took a chance and followed her. She rapped lightly on the metal door before gingerly pushing it open. “Patsy?”

Patsy turned from the sink that was halfway down the massive motor home. “Come in, Crystal.”

“Everything okay?”

“Of course,” she continued washing tomatoes, placing them on a tea towel beside the sink. “Dean got the pole.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah.”

Crystal came inside, latching the door behind her. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“Thanks for coming.” Patsy swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

Crystal moved closer still. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Dean bruised his ribs.”

“I saw that.”

“No spinout, no crash, no nothing. Just a mishap with the harness, and he’s got a bruised rib.”

“Will he be able to drive tomorrow?”

Patsy gave a hollow laugh, yanking the plug from the sink and drying her hands on a corner of the towel. Her hands trembled ever so slightly. “The man could be in traction, and he’d be begging them to winch him into the driver’s seat.” She pulled open a drawer and retrieved a long, sharp knife.

Crystal moved in. “Why don’t you let me do that?” She gently removed the knife from Patsy’s hand.

“Am I that bad?” Patsy stared down at her trembling hands. “Damn.” She pressed them against her beige shorts.

“Do you need a drink?” asked Crystal, washing her hands. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I would, if I thought it would help.” Patsy crossed to the big refrigerator and retrieved a head of lettuce. “I hope you like hamburgers.”

“I love hamburgers,” said Crystal, slicing through the juicy tomatoes.

“How’s Larry?”

“He’s good.” Crystal glanced out the window to where Larry had pulled a chair up next to Dean. The two men were talking with Perry who stood facing them.

“Any developments?”

Patsy looked like a nervous wreck, but Crystal was willing to go along with small talk if that’s what she wanted.

“He’s agreed to tell the world we’re dating.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Patsy-”

“I mean, there’s nothing to hide, right?” Patsy’s laugh was a little shrill.

Crystal reached out to cover Patsy’s hand. “Does Dean know you’re this upset?”

Patsy gazed at her with deep, luminous, blue eyes and then laughed again. “He thinks I’m being unreasonable and should seek psychological help.”

Crystal laughed, too.”

Patsy sighed. “I can’t leave. But I can’t stay.”

Everything froze inside Crystal. “It’s that serious?”

Patsy concentrated on the lettuce, but she gave a shaky nod. “We’re fighting all the time. It’s no good for me, and I can’t let him drive off in his race car upset. Can you imagine…”

Crystal wrapped an arm around Patsy’s narrow shoulders. Her gaze went to the window once again, taking in the man whose stubbornness was making Patsy miserable.

Perry was gone, and she could tell from Larry’s and Dean’s arm gestures that they were arguing.

“What do you want to do?” Crystal whispered to Patsy.

“The impossible,” said Patsy. “But what I’ll do instead, is be a good NASCAR wife. I’ll swallow my fear and support my husband. He’s got an important race tomorrow, and he needs to focus. That’s the best-” Her voice broke, but she quickly regrouped. “Thanks.”

“For what?” asked Crystal. She hadn’t done a single thing to help. She didn’t even have any advice for Patsy.

“For listening,” said Patsy. “It helps.”

“I’m glad. But…” She looked pointedly out of the window at the two angry men. “It might have been better if Larry and I had stayed away.”

Patsy followed the direction of her gaze. “He’s definitely not thrilled with your relationship,” she agreed.

“Has he said anything?” asked Crystal, girding herself.

“He’s said a lot of things. Most of them you don’t need to hear. I’m honestly not sure if he’s that convinced Larry is making a fool of himself, or if Dean’s grown so accustomed to seeing Larry alone, that he’s worried about him. The Grossos are extremely close. They protect each other.”

“Larry’s not making a fool of himself,” Crystal quickly defended. “And don’t worry. I like him. A lot. And that’s all there is to it.”

Patsy nodded. “I believe you.”

“I don’t try to look like a trophy girlfriend.”

Patsy pulled back and took in Crystal’s plain white T-shirt, sensible shoes, her simple ponytail and minuscule makeup. “I know you don’t.”

“I wish I was forty, with wrinkles. Maybe a little gray hair.”

Patsy laughed. “No, you don’t.”

“Okay, maybe that is a bit too radical. But it would sure make this situation a lot easier.”

“Relationships are never easy,” said Patsy.

Crystal sighed. Patsy was a wise woman. If she and Dean were still struggling, what chance did Crystal and Larry stand?

WHEN HE SAW CRYSTAL AND Patsy exiting the motor home, Larry turned up the volume on the radio. Kent was doing a good job with the call-in show, and Larry hoped it would distract his brother from their argument. He’d wanted Crystal to be confronted with the reality of his family’s reaction to their relationship, but enough was enough.

“You can delude yourself all you want,” said Dean, cranking the radio back down and keeping his voice to a low growl. “But if you care about her, and if you’re half a man, you’ll walk away.”

Out of earshot, Crystal smiled at Larry as she walked down the short steps, arms laden with food for the barbecue. He returned the smile, but he didn’t like what Dean was saying. And he sure didn’t like the sense it was making inside his brain.

“You’re not what she needs,” Dean continued. “And you know it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d have punched my lights out ten minutes ago.”

Larry didn’t answer his brother. Instead he stared straight ahead and tried to pretend that Dean wasn’t right, that Dean wasn’t echoing the doubts that had been inside Larry’s head for the past two weeks.

After a long minute’s silence, Dean cranked the radio back up, and Kent’s voice filled the air.

“The folks at Maximus Motorsports and Vittle Farms have done an outstanding job of supporting the team this year. And the No. 427 team just keeps getting better and better. I don’t know if you saw my pit stops in Dover, Tammy, but we didn’t lose a second in the pits.”

“Well, I saw those Dover pits stops,” came the host’s voice. “And your crew was on fire. Our next caller is from Boise, Idaho. Go ahead, Jack.”

“Great to talk to you, Kent,” said the caller.

“Hello there, Jack,” came Kent’s jovial reply.

“Can you talk a bit about family rivalry? I see your Dad’s got the pole position for tomorrow’s race. How does that play into your strategy?”

“We’ll be chasing Dad and the No. 414 car along with everybody else. He may be wily, but I’m eager, and I don’t plan to be in his rearview mirror for long.” Then Kent’s voice got more serious. “The Cargill Motorsports team is having a phenomenal year, and I’ve no doubt it’s going to be a great race.”

“What about rumors of his retirement?” asked the host.

“You’ll have to talk to Dad on that one,” said Kent.

The host left a split second of dead air, then obviously accepted that Kent wouldn’t say anything further.

“He’s doing a good job,” Larry said to Dean.

Dean nodded. He was a veteran of many interviews, and he obviously knew they could get tricky, particularly when they were live.

“Next caller. We have Patrick from Charlotte. A hometown fan.”

“Hello, Kent?” came the caller.

“Hi there,” said Kent.

“I know there’s a lot of money involved in NASCAR. I wonder if you worry about scam artists.” The caller paused.

“I don’t follow you,” said Kent.

“Gold diggers,” explained the caller, his voice going hard. “Who take up, for example, with your uncle, who should know better than to be conned by a young, pretty face.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, both on the air and at the barbecue. Larry met Crystal’s gaze and saw the hurt in her green eyes.

He swore under his breath, rising from his chair to go to her.

“If you’re suggesting some of the team’s wives and girlfriends are beautiful,” Kent’s voice followed him, “I’d have to agree with you. My fiancée, Tanya, for example is a knockout. Love you, honey. And my spotter’s new fiancée could stop traffic-even at 180 miles an hour. As for the money in NASCAR, I think it’s a well-documented fact that racing is expensive. That’s why we appreciate the support of sponsors like Vittle Farms and, of course, Dawson Ritter and Maximus Motorsports. We couldn’t race without them.”

“We have to take a short break,” the announcer put in. “For some words from one of our favorite sponsors.”

“That was outrageous,” Patsy hissed.

Crystal’s lower lip trembled, but she put on a smile. “Kent did a great job deflecting. We’ll have to thank him for that. You have a very intelligent son.”

Larry drew Crystal into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries,” she said, pulling back, and turning her attention to the table, brushing off some imaginary dust and straightening a fold that didn’t need straightening.

“Why do people have to fixate on age?” said Patsy vehemently.

“You’re joking,” came Dean’s dry voice as he joined them, opening the barbecue and picking up a pack of matches.