Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 47

The PA system announced the start of the Street Stock race, so Evan told the girls he had to go watch because he was driving one of the cars in that division. They seemed very impressed and he felt like he had embellished more than necessary. "You gonna be here next week?" he asked.

Ticket girl said, "If I'm not grounded, and smirked at her friend. "You get grounded a lot?" he asked.

She giggled, twisted her foot in the dirt and said, "Sometimes. Maybe next week you can buy me a snow cone or something?" She smirked at her friend again. "I'll try and stay out of trouble."

Evan thought about all the ways she might get in trouble. "You do that, then we'll see you."

Ticket girl said she had to get back, but didn't say where, then she dragged Billy Joe away from Jason.

"Come on," he said. "You'll see her again." Probably tonight when you get home, he thought.

They walked to the far end of the hill that made up the grandstand and found a spot on the grassy knoll above turn four. Evan explained to Jason why that was the best spot to watch a race. "We can see the whole track from here, and it's the last turn before the checkered flag. This is where all the beating and banging and crashing happens."

The Street Stock cars ran their twenty lap feature without one caution. Evan watched the number sixteen car like a scientist studying his pet project. He jumped and cheered every time Dale made a pass, and when he finished second, he acted like he was actually driving the car. "Dammit, dammit, he lost by a bumper, only a bumper," he said. "That's the car I'm gonna be driving. Just Imagine it, imagine me winning the race."

"I'm imagining some things, Jason said. "Oh yeah, I sure am."

Evan followed Jason's line of sight to a girl with a huge chess, "You idiot, you didn't even watch the race."

"I did, I swear I did, but when it ended she started jumping up and down and I got distracted."

"Jeez"

It was ten o'clock before Cindy strapped into her black and red, Southern Environmental Consultants, number fifteen. Evan and Jason waited for her to give them the thumbs up and lower her visor before they started for the track.

On their way, they ran into ticket girl. She gestured in the direction of her mother, who was watching her father's crew loading up his street stock car. It was the car that beat Dale. He didn't say anything.

Billy Joe was standing right at her side, with a dirty hand print on the front of her shirt, right on her left tit. Ticket girl said, "Gotta go...can't stay for Cindy's race. Mom has a headache or some shit. I hope to see ya'll next week."

Yeah, okay," he said. Now that she was well into Saturday night racing, and covered with the nature of it, he knew she was a naughty girl. Not the kind he'd be allowed to bring home to Papa. His father had once commented about a girl he met at the race track. He told him, "If you want to screw her that's fine, but she's trash. Don't date her." That was the first time he realized how much he didn't like his father, yet he still lived his life trying to impress him.

When they got to their spot at turn four, Jason said, "Did you see her shirt? You think that was her hand print or someone else's?"

Evan removed an imaginary pipe from his mouth and said, "Well, I can't say for sure, but it's worth an investigation. They both laughed. "You should have offered to brush it off for her.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Jason smacked his forehead. "Mind if I wipe this dirt off your incredible tit?"

"You might have chosen your words better, but it would've been worth asking."

"Not sure ticket girl would have approved. She seems a little possessive, doesn't she?"

Evan thought so, but before he could say anything, he heard the cars. "Here they come,' he said, and pointed to the far side of the track by turn two.

Twenty-four Modified Late-model cars entered the back straightaway and rumbled towards them, 'Don't bother trying to talk once the race starts," Evan said. The cars zigzagged past. "We won't be able to hear each other, You're gonna love this." The pack of cars came around again and Evan's heart rate Increased with the tempo of their engines. The flagman held up one finger. "Next time around they go green."

Bumper to bumper, the cars seem to growl at each other down the back straightaway, all pushing, but held back by the two cars in front. The pressure built in his chest and Evan's fists clenched. "There's Cindy in the middle of the pack, outside row.' He stopped breathing when they reached turn four.

The green flag swooped through the air and twenty-four cars lunged for the starting line. The deafening roar paralyzed the crowd. Evan's body shook, his knuckles were white and his eyes followed the number fifteen as it sliced through a cloud of dust.

His fists loosened and he inhaled. The hundred mile-per-hour traffic jam funneled down into tum one, each car finding a spot. Cindy had survived the start and had passed three cars before falling back in line. "She's going to win," he shouted, but nobody could hear him.

Twenty-eight laps and four cautions later, he looked at Jason and said "She's gonna win. You watch what she does when the green flag flies again."

"I know she's good, but she's fifth with only two laps to go, Jason said, and shifted foot to foot. "This is incredible."

"I know. The only thing better than this is fucking..."

"What'd you say?" Jason yelled.

The green flag flew and the fourteen remaining cars screamed out of turn four. Evan jumped up and down, pointing, but his voice was muted by the thundering engines. Cindy pushed under the third- place car and they went three wide past the flag stand. She was in position to steal two spots going into turn one. Or crash. "Watch," he shouted into Jason's ear, "you'll love this."

Cindy came out of the second turn and went wide. She was in third place. The second-place car moved up trying to block her charge, but she dove to the bottom and they went into three together. In the middle of the turn Cindy banged doors with the number eight, and pulled ahead coming out of turn four. Mad Dog Jones, in his number eight, licked his wounds while Cindy caught up to the first place car. The white flew and the number twenty-two and number

fifteen sailed into turn one, nose to tail.