Page 120 of Racing Hearts
Then, as if fate intervenes, my phone rings. I grab it, expecting Evan, but it’s a number I don’t recognize, and Sky grins like he knows something I don’t. Flipping him off, I answer with a gruff, “Yes?”
“Um, yes, hi, is this Alek Anders?”
“Who’s asking?” I mutter as I stare into the engine. Something is out of place, but I can’t figure out what.
“It’s Noah from Starfire Racing. You submitted an application for the head of our garage last week. We would be thrilled to offer you an interview. We have seen your work, and after speaking to your boss and some connections in the industry, we think you would be a great fit.”
“Me?” I gape, pulling my phone away. “Is this a joke?”
“Um, no?” Noah replies.
“I’m a brute,” I say. “I have no qualifications?—”
“So? Neither do I,” Noah says, “yet here I am, running a racing team. Interview is tomorrow at eleven. I hope to see you. Qualifications or not, Alek Anders, we want you.”
He hangs up, and I’m left staring at my phone in shock.
Interview? Me?
Starfire?
What the fuck?
“You’ve got this,” Evan says, straightening my jacket. I refuse to wear a suit, but I did put on my clean boots and nice pants and shirt. I just happened to add my leather jacket. Either they hire me as I am or not at all. I’m not changing who I am for anyone, not even a job—even if it is with the most renowned racing team around.
They are at the top of the industry, which makes me that much more suspicious. Why would they want me? They could have their pick of mechanics.
Their base is a large, white-brick garage with two open doors, rock music blasting from inside. One of their smaller tracks is to my left, the bigger one spread out behind them just outside of Pine Valley.
It’s the team Skylar always wanted to race for, and I hate that I’m here and he isn’t, but he wished me luck this morning and told me not to be a total prick and to impress them. Alice cooked me breakfast, and Evan drove me here. All of them are supporting me, so even if I wanted to chicken out, I can’t. I owe it to them to discover if I want it. It isn’t something I had ever thought of before, but I can admit it’s a great opportunity.
Being their mechanic would allow me to do what I love and be in charge of a garage. I try not to get my hopes up too much though.
Evan pats my chest, bringing my eyes back to him. “Knock them dead. Just try not to glare at everyone, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I reply before stealing a kiss. “Be back soon.”
He nods, leaning back against my car as I head to the open door two minutes before eleven.
The inside of the garage is exactly what I expected. Race cars are everywhere, and there are even some of their older models and their champion car on display. Photos cover the walls, as does their logo. Mechanics and techs bustle between cars as I head through to the back where there’s a partial wall. Around it, I find a table and chairs and doors beyond that lead to locker rooms and offices.
There aren’t any racers about or anyone else, so I hesitate until a voice sounds behind me. “So you came.” I turn to find a middle-aged man grinning at me. He is lithe, with blond hair and mismatched eyes. He’s wearing overalls tied at his waist, revealing an oil-stained tank underneath. “You must be Alek, right? I’m?—”
“Noah Fletcher,” I finish for him, and he grins. “I used to watch you race when I was a kid.”
“Ouch, now I feel old.” He laughs, shaking my hand. “I’m in charge of the team now. Come, let me walk you through the garage.” I fall into step at his side as he shows me around.
“That’s Mackie’s car.” He nods at a vehicle on jacks, the engine roaring as they test it. “That’s Whip’s car. We do all our own tuning and tech here. We are a tight-knit family. Our old head of the garage left to help take care of his youngest daughter who’s going through chemo. He was actually the one who suggested you. We like to keep our eye on talent, and it seems he did too.”
I look around at the magnitude of the garage. “I’m used to working in a tiny garage filled with nude magazines,” I admit. “I don’t have qualifications for this, like I mentioned. I just like cars, that’s all.”
“We want talent. We want drive and attitude. I don’t need qualifications. I can teach everything else,” he murmurs. “Honestly, I saw you race a couple of times, and I would have hired you for that, but I have a feeling you prefer to be in front of the engine rather than driving it. Am I right?”
I nod, and he smiles. “The job is yours.” My eyes widen, and he laughs. “Seeing you was a formality. I like to look a person in their eyes before I bring them on, but I knew it was going to be you anyway . . . if you want it?”
What do I want?
Evan’s voice fills my head, daring me to dream.