As I forced my eyes shut on the living room couch, I could hear the seconds of my life ticking away, thanks to Josiah's surplus of clocks.

How many clocks did one person need, for fuck's sake?

Though the clocks chimed in perfect unison on the hour, I had no idea what time it was. All I knew was that it sure as hell was a waste of my time to try to fall asleep.

I picked myself up off the couch, and I headed for the garage. It was a chilly night even though the temperatures were beginning to warm up in the daytime, but I wanted to see my new pride and joy: the sexy red Chevy Corvette probably from '78.

Griffin would be so jealous.

It was finally all mine, a reward for the ridiculous amount of bullshit I put up with just to keep from driving myself crazy. It was better to let someone else do that for me. Then there was someone to blame.

The interior of the car was tattered and torn, and there was so much dust that my eyes watered just looking at it, but it was mine.

I ran my fingers along the rust. "You're going to take a lot of work, but dammit, you're already worth it."

I assumed that was how Griffin felt about me. Sure, I was a disaster who wasn't worth much, but I looked like I could one day be restored to my former glory.

I wonder how he did in qualifying. The race that weekend was at Kansas Speedway, and Griffin usually qualified well there before technical problems caused his early demise. He always had horrible luck on that track, just like Talladega for me.

I climbed inside the car, and although the driver's seat was ripped up and dirty, it felt good to sit where I belonged.

NASCAR always posted the starting grid on their website, so I scrolled through to find the results of qualifying. The vote for the All-Star Race at Charlotte Motor Speedway was already up, and as soon as I found out where Griffin was starting at Kansas, I'd go back and vote for the person I hated the least.

Any driver who had won a race since the last All-Star Race was eligible to compete, as well as two other drivers who won mini-races to get in, but the last spot was given to the driver with the highest number of votes from the fans. Unlike other sports, we actually tried during the all-star festivities. The winner got a million dollars and a huge ass trophy.

Griffin would start the Kansas race fifth. That was pretty good, and hopefully, he would be able to survive until the end of the race for once. And since Griffin had won a couple races, he was already in the All-Star Race, but like any good American citizen, I had to practice my right to vote for someone.

I scrolled through the options and wondered which one of those fucking idiots was the best option. They were neatly placed in alphabetical order, but they were all my former competition. I only liked a few other drivers, for fuck's sake, and fewer of them liked me.

Landon Hassel. Nice guy, sucky driver.

Joey Laguna. Yeah, right. He was a fucking douche.

Katie Moore.

A mini version of myself looked back at me, and she was dressed up in her Goodyear fire suit with Roger Truscott Racing printed down both sleeves. Of course, when she took that photo, she had no idea that she'd end up unemployed within a few months, so she smiled like nothing was wrong, even though she hated her job.

How couldn't I vote for her? She was fucking adorable and a damn good driver. Plus, she needed a little bit of pocket money to get her new old car up and running.

I let out a breath. I didn't even think I would have been eligible for voting, since I wasn't under contract with anyone, but there was a clear road right back to NASCAR right in front of me. I didn't hate racing. I hated Truscott.

All I needed was a little support, and I could—

A pair of footsteps came down the steps into the garage, and I shoved my phone into my pocket. The last thing I wanted was for someone to catch me cheating on Sacrilege, since I had already pissed them off by not caring enough and then trying to help by buying the car.

I just could never win.

"Katie, I knew you'd end up out here. You can't sleep in that car. You'll be so sore, and you won't be able to get in some good practice tomorrow." Drake stood right by the window. "Come on. Come back inside."

I rolled my eyes. "I couldn't stand listening to those fucking clocks anymore. They all tick in perfect unison. It's just downright unsettling."

"Then you can sleep in my bed. You made it clear that you want to be here and that you're willing to invest your own money into making the team better. I think it's about time we respect that," Drake said.

I opened up the car door. "Are you still on that bullshit about me trying to help? I told you that I just wanted the car to have someone who'll love it and cherish it forever."

"You may fool Josiah, and you may fool Annie, and you may fool all of America, but I see right through you, Miss Moore. You're a team player, and I'm glad that you're on my team."

"You sure seem to change your mind a lot."

"Nope. All I want is a killer robot team, and you're the best chance we've got. Now, you need to get some rest. The rebuild has only just begun, and we have a tournament in a couple weeks. We're going to need you more than ever," Drake said.

I paused. "You're gonna have to get me drunk to get me in bed with you. You know that, right?"

Drake chuckled. "I wouldn't do that to you."

The two of us headed back inside to Drake's room, and although I had been in there once or twice in the beginning, it was a little different now that I knew my standing with him. It was the first time I felt like something more than a replaceable cog in a machine.

Unlike Annie and Josiah, his room was kept clean, and the only clutter was a stack of books on robotics on the nightstand.

"If you wanted to read those, you're more than welcome to. It wouldn't hurt to have another person's insight on the mechanical work," Drake said.

I smiled. "Nope, I'm just a driver. I was never any good at reading or school anyway."

"That doesn't mean that you're not smart. There's a lot more going on in your mind than you'll ever let anyone know, I'm sure."

He wasn't exactly wrong, but there wasn't much intelligent thought happening in my head.

Drake stepped out of the room for a moment, and I picked up one of the books. I knew how cars worked, but not nearly to the extent of the racing engineers back in NASCAR. If he explained everything to me, I could definitely learn, but from a book? Nope.

There was no time for reading in the fast lane.

I glanced over at the clock, and it was about one-thirty in the morning. I wasn't sure why Drake was up, but so was I, so I had no room to question him.

"You go ahead and take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor or something," Drake said.

"I'm not gonna take your bed. I'm already taking your food and your car," I replied.

I couldn't legally work in Canada either, so I was essentially just stealing from these poor people. As an independent woman, it kind of bothered me.

That million dollars could go a long way. The power lied with the people, and it was no secret that there were a lot of fans who adored me. With a nasty mouth and an unapologetic nature, I was just like them. All I needed was for them to give me a chance in that All-Star Race.

"Just take it," Drake said.

"I'm not going to take it. I'm tired of just taking all your shit all the time. I was raised better than that, and I don't want to disappoint my parents anymore."

"Then we'll compromise. Just stay on one half, and I'll stay on the other," Drake said.

"That's respectable," I said, and I took the spot next to him. "Just don't get the idea that I do this a lot. I mean, I do, but you don't need to know that."

He laughed. "Your secret's safe with me."

I had plenty to keep me awake that night: I was wanted where I was, I had an opportunity to get back into racing, and I had Drake right beside me. I may have been better off in the living room with the clocks.

***

Annie and Drake headed off to work the next morning, and that meant that I had the privilege and honor of working on Sacrilege with Josiah.

Hopefully I would be able to keep myself from hitting him with a metal bar. Maybe a glass of wine would help satiate that desire.

The motor was just about finished up, and the frame of the robot needed to be reconstructed with all new parts. Unfortunately, I already knew that I wouldn't be much help, since I had helped my dad build go-carts when I was a kid, but mostly I just held the flashlight. He and I both knew that I preferred the driving part.

"Would you put down the wine and fucking help me?" Josiah asked.

I took a sip. "Not with that attitude."

"Look, all I need is for you to hold these two pieces, so I can screw them together. It requires exactly zero brain power."

That was much more brain power than I was willing to give, but I set down my glass and held the two pieces together.

"No, move it up. The other one. God fucking dammit, I'll just do it myself." He swatted my hands away, and as I let go, the pieces fell through the bottom of the frame and clattered against the floor.

I sat back down and took another sip of wine. It was nine in the morning, but I needed it to get me through the day with Josiah's OCD ass.

I still had no idea how Annie and Drake put up with him all the time. He wasn't in charge of shit, yet he always felt the need to micromanage and ruin everything.

Josiah continued in silence, and I watched him as he put Humpty Dumpty back together again. It was a tedious, time-consuming process, and with someone as destructive as me at the controls, he could expect to have to do it over and over again.

He attached a couple wires, and he threaded them through a few holes he had already drilled into the frame.

I really needed a work visa already. Watching him was just downright punishing.

If I just had that million dollars, so much pressure would be taken off this team. I shook my head. I couldn't get my hopes up. I wasn't even sure if the fans would vote me into the All-Star Race, and if they did, the chances that I'd win were practically zero.

But maybe.

I took another sip of wine. "Hey Josiah, when's the next tournament?"

"Not this Saturday, but the next. And if you don't shut up and let me focus, we won't have a finished robot to compete with."

I bit my cheek. Of course it had to conflict with the All-Star Race. "And where is it?"

"Chicago."

I nodded, but the wheels in my head were turning like a hamster on Adderall.

I had the most social media followers out of all the NASCAR drivers (once again, Roger Truscott called it female privilege), and therefore, the most influence. And although I hadn't said much on Instagram or Twitter since my firing, that could easily change.

Roger Truscott needed to see that he made the biggest mistake of his goddamn life by letting me go. And the world needed to be reminded of why I was the most dominant female driver they had ever seen. And Team Sacrilege needed that prize money now that I made them waste it all fixing the robot.

Drake was right; I wasn't book smart, but I sure as hell was a lot smarter than people gave me credit for. I had a plan to get me into that race, even if it cost me every ounce of respect Drake had for me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey everyone! I'm so sorry that I took a week off of this book, but I was so busy with school, work, and my real life that I just couldn't get around to it. So thank you so much for your patience, and thank you for reading!

So for today's question, do you think Katie is doing the right thing with her interest in the All-Star Race?

Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, I'd absolutely love to answer them!