Page 10 of Full Throttle 2

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Page 10 of Full Throttle 2

Brian had some compassion for him. Love had made him act irrational once too. “I promise I’ll take care of her.”

Liam responded as he continued to walk out the door. “You better, or else I’ll be the one blowing shit up.”

Inwardly, Brian grinned. He had never been able to get Liam to stand down. He’d mentally mark this day as a much-needed win. However, he didn’t doubt for one second that Liam meant every word.

Chapter Five

“This. Is. Not. A. Game. However, with skill and hard work, you can make the impossible possible.”

Liar.

Colby spoke the words as if they meant something. As if they were true. Too bad hard work and skills only went so far.

She stood in a room full of hopefuls. All women. All driven and wanting their shot to stand at the top of the winner’s podium. All wanting to beherand seemingly hanging on to every word that came out of her mouth. Since Colby’s debut in the premier league, NASCAR had zero shame in using her to promote the sport and to be the face of their once-popular diversity and inclusion programs. Too bad they were full of shit and didn’t use Colby’s experience to make real change. Still, Colby’s workshop was one of the most sought-after events within the entire sport.

Colby would do her part, not for NASCAR, but for all the talented athletes who just needed a shot. Her own entry into the sport had been damned near impossible, but she hoped her experiences would make it easier for those coming up after her.

Every woman in the room was at various career levels, but all professional drivers who hadn’t yet made it up the NASCAR ranks.

While there had been some progress, it was moving at a glacial pace. Colby was still the only woman on the premier circuit and theonlyBlack woman. Crazy. She was anonlyin two categories. Not unlike most corporations, NASCAR talked a good game when it came to diversity and inclusion, but where the rubber hit the road, their DEI effort was mostly bullshit.

Being the firstwas no joke. It was tiresome, grueling, and thankless. Colby supposed nobody really wanted to pave the way for inclusion because it came with so many pitfalls and responsibilities separate from the job itself. At the end of the day, Colby just wanted to drive. Still, she played the game. What choice did she have? It was almost impossible to dismiss a winner and winning was the only way to crack glass ceilings and open doors—even if it was only a sliver. She figured that was one of the reasons teams ganged up against her to prevent it.

She sighed but kept her game face on. It was a miracle Colby’s anger, frustration, and rage weren’t on full display. Especially after that bullshit loss at Charlotte. Not to mention the recent shenanigans she’d avoided during her last four races. Lord knew it was bubbling just underneath the surface.

Her Teflon had a big chink in it. She just needed to keep it together long enough to finish her presentation. Colby reminded herself that even though NASCAR thought they were the ringmasters in this circus, it was only because she allowed it. All the posing and smiling for the cameras helped them, but it also helped her. If they were going to use her, Colby would use them right back. Being high-profile led directly to several multi-million-dollar personal endorsements. Her image was on products from makeup to tires and everything in between.

Too bad, none of it had anything to do with her skill as a driver and never translated into sponsorships for the Lockwood organization. The deals she had been able to secure, Colby considered, pseudo sponsorships, even if not official.

Racing was an expensive sport and cost millions, so those very same millions Colby earned from her deals were indirectly re-invested back into her team. While it was frustrating to be seen as a product and not a world-class athlete, Colby had mostly settled it within herself.Mostly.

Some folks said that she had a marketable look. Her skin was a rich, warm caramel-colored hue, and her almond-shaped eyes were so dark they almost looked black. They were striking—exuding a blend of depth and warmth, framed by long lashes, giving them an enchanting allure—and making a lot of folks a lot of money.

However, her new manager had insisted Colby lose some weight and straighten her cascade of natural curls that framed her face, accentuating her high cheekbones and full lips. He believed she’d get more sponsors if she smoothed it out. Colby didn’t have anything against relaxed hair, and she'd worn it that way for most of her career in Washington. But her natural hair was a necessary statement, and she wasn’t changing it.

Today, Colby wasn’t okay with the bullshit. Her nerves were particularly raw since she had just learned that another potential sponsor had declined to represent Lockwood.

Get it together, sis. You’re almost done. Don’t let them see you sweat.

Colby’s voice didn’t betray her and, surprisingly, wasn’t laced with the storm brewing inside her that was a mix of frustration, hurt, and injustice.Instead, Colby kept her cool while speaking her truth. “Racing is not for the faint of heart. We’ve made some progress, but not nearly enough.”

Pfft...You can’t even measure the progress in a thimble. Don’t choke on your next words.

“There are still small pockets of racism, sexism, and misogyny within our sport. But to be fair, NASCAR is just a microcosm of the rest of the world. I won’t lie...”

No. Not outright lie, but how many half-truths have you already told?

“Racing is a brutal sport, so it’s vital to keep not just your body fit but your mind and spirit too. You’ll need to pull on something stronger than yourself to stay motivated. Whether it’s a higher power, yoga, kickboxing, or something else. You’ll need somewhere to channel that energy constructively.”

“How can you say that when you’ve managed to make it to the top as an elite driver?” Colby searched the crowd for whomever had blurted out the question.

Do I dare answer that with the unvarnished truth?

Colby stared out into hopeful faces, but none looked like hers. Still, she was proud of the women that were there.

Should I give the patented bullshit answer?

Their earnest looks decided for her. Colby veered off from her prepared remarks and decided to give it to them straight.




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