Chapter Eight

Tracey was dressing for her photo shoot. Her wardrobe of black, knee-length leather boots, leather jacket, black tights, and black bikini top was provided by the coordinator of the shoot.

“What the hell does this get up have to do with a children’s hospital?” She demanded of the photographer.

“This one is for the calendar, which will feature you, Mr. Westbrook and a few other racers along with others from various sporting events. It’s for charity. Smile sweetness,” Juan, the photographer, said.

“And stop calling me sweetness. I hate my hair out like this,” she complained.

“Sweetheart you look like a siren. You’re gorgeous. Shame on you, missy, for hiding that glorious hair in a simple band; and not even a fancy band…a rubber band. Tsk. For shame,” Juan chastised.

“Well I look like I’m selling something; and not my talent as a race car driver either,” she snorted. “Can you say sex for sale, Juan?”

“You’re not selling sex, Tracey. You’re sexy. There’s a difference. Just because you work in a man’s world doesn’t mean you have to look like a man, sweetness,” Juan frowned, clicking away with his camera.

“I don’t look like a man,” Tracey snapped.

“Not for lack of trying. Turn your head a little to the left,” Juan barked, and for the next half hour Juan barked out orders to Tracey.

“Are we finished, Juan? I have another appointment, and I have to get out of this war paint and clothes before I go,” Tracey whined.

“We need one with you outside next to your car and that will be all,” Juan said.

“But my car isn’t here.”

“No worries. We had them bring it over. Before you object, it was handled carefully by your crew. Now let’s move out. I have others waiting for me,” Juan said, leading her outside to where her car was waiting.

“I feel like big bird in these four-inch heeled boots Juan,” Tracey complained, while trying to keep up with Juan and his team without falling on her face and making a fool out of herself.

“You need to work on your posture. Please, girlfriend, I have models who would kill for a body and face like yours. You have them and don’t want them. What’s the world coming too?” he exclaimed.

“I want my face. I just don’t want this gunk on it. It would take me hours to even figure out how to put it on and it’s too hot for all this crap,” she whined. “My ass was inherited as is my lack in the boobage area.”

“Your breasts fit your body. Now hush up so we can get done,” Juan said.

“Whatever,” Tracey murmured trying her hardest to walk the few more steps to her car without breaking her neck. She was relieved to see her sister standing nearby. Sam started to make cat calls at her.

“Cut it out, Samantha,” Tracey demanded.

“Ooh baby, you got some fries to go with that shake,” Sam jested.

“Stop it with the cheesy jokes, Samantha,” Tracey said. She always called Sam by her full name when they were in front of others or when Tracey was mad at her sister. Today, both conditions were met.

“Please no comments from the peanut gallery. It took us ages to get her to allow us to fix her up, and we’ve be getting reamed ever since. So please, let her be,” Juan smiled and gave Samantha a little wink.

“Hey, I saw that,” Tracey said.

“Of course you did,” Juan said. “Now come on in front of the car.”

During the next few minutes, Juan arranged her in different sitting and standing poses with the car. Tracey was happy when he finally called it quits.

“And that’s a wrap,” Juan said with pride.

Tracey breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I can change and be on my way,” she said. “Samantha, give me a minute to get out of this getup and I’ll be right with you.”

“About that,” Sam said hesitantly. “Change of plans. I am going to have to drop you at your car for your next meeting. Something important came up that I need to take care of.”

“Oh?” Tracey said, eyeing Sam.

“I’m sorry Tracey, you know I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t absolutely necessary,” Sam said.

“That’s fine. Just drop me at the hotel. Uh…my meeting was postponed to another day. I was just going to hang out with you. Don’t worry about me I’ll have plenty to do before I leave for Florida,” Tracey said.

Tracey knew that Sam couldn’t drop her at her car unless she took her to Shane’s house. No way was that happening. Besides, she couldn’t tell Sam how to get to Shane’s home if she wanted to.

Either way she had to find some way to get her car. But not this way. “Just pull the car up to the front. My feet hurt.”

“You’re walking funny. Do you need some help?” Sam asked.

“No, I got out here. I’ll make it back just fine. Just be in the front with the car and pray I don’t break my neck in these ridiculous boots,” Tracey said.

Samantha laughed. “You look sexy, and the boots are hot.”

“You can have them. I’m done. They had the nerve to tell me this getup was mine after the shoot. As if,” she snorted.

“Tracey you’re a hot commodity now. You are going to have to learn how to deal with the makeup, heels, and everything else that goes with it,” Sam giggled. “Next on the list is getting someone to teach you how to walk in heels, because clearly you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Not funny Samantha,” Tracey called out while trying to make it to the door of the building on wobbly legs. “The nerve of Juan, leaving me in the middle of this lot in these damn stilts that are supposed to be boots. Hell! I am going to break my fool neck in these things,” she mumbled.

Tracey was so busy talking to herself that she didn’t see the person standing there and walked right into him which caused her to stumble back and nearly fall.

“Whoa there, li’l lady.” She heard the southern drawl and thought oh, no.

“I’m all right,” she stuttered, trying to right herself without help, and looking right into the eyes of Adam Westbrook.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” Adam asked.

“Nice line, brother,” Shane chuckled, coming to stand next to Adam.

“No. You don’t know me,” she barked, turning away.

“Tracey?” Shane asked.

“Tracey who?” Adam asked. “The only Tracey we know is…No. Get out. Wow, you look gorgeous!”

“Yes, stunning,” Shane whispered.

“Tha—Thank you. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m trying to go change out of these clothes,” she murmured. At that moment Tracey heard a lot of whistling from others in the studio. “Oh great, just what I need.”

“You need help, suga’?” Shane asked, frowning at her.

“Of course I need help, but you’re not going to help me. Juan is waving like a mad man for you. I guess you’re up next. And why aren’t you dressed like you’re about to go trolling and I am?” She asked.

“Trolling?” Shane questioned.

“Yeah, I look like a pinup doll,” she said with disgust.

Adam laughed hysterically.

“It’s not funny, Adam,” Tracey barked stomping her foot and almost tumbled again. “Can you stop laughing long enough to give me a hand here? Samantha is waiting for me.”

“Why didn’t you just take the boots off?” Adam asked, between his bursts of laughter.

“Because I can’t walk on the ground or floor barefoot,” she hissed. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Sure. Where’re we going?” Adam asked taking her by the hand.

“I just need to make it over to the dressing area and change into my clothes,” Tracey said pointing across the room.

“I can help you get dressed,” Tracey heard one of the guys yell out.

“And if he can’t I know I can,” another called out.

“Don’t y’all have somewhere to be?” Shane snapped.

“Nope,” they said in a chorus.

“Trust me you all have somewhere to be. Now get to it. Tracey has all the help she needs. Go,” Adam barked, and surprisingly they all turned around and began walking back towards Juan, mumbling something that Tracey couldn’t quite make out. By Shane’s body language, he wasn’t at all happy. Adam must have picked up on it, too, because he gave Shane a firm look.

“That photographer dude is obviously waiting on you Shane,” Adam said.

“Juan,” Tracey said.

“Who?” Adam asked.

“The photographer dude that you’re referring to name is Juan,” Tracey sniffed.

“Juan, Jon, whatever. Now move it before my brother does something stupid,” Adam chuckled.

“Like what?” Trace frowned. “And why?”

“The what…I don’t know as my brother has a mind of his own. I can tell you that it wouldn’t be good for his or for your reputation or career. As to the why? You already know the answer to that,” Adam snorted.

Tracey blushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Adam.”

“If you say so,” he smiled at her. “I’ll wait here and walk you out to your car.”

“You don’t have to, and I don’t have my car. I’m riding with Samantha,” Tracey said.

“Just how are you planning to retrieve your car?” Adam whispered for her ears only.

Tracey didn’t even bother to deny understanding him. “I have no clue,” Tracey murmured softly.

“You’re still at the hotel?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ll be in North Carolina for another week or so, and then I’m going to stay with the parents for a few days. I won’t be in Florida until a day or two before the race,” she said.

“Hmm, I’ll get your car to you,” Adam said. “You’re not driving down to Florida, are you?”

“Not sure yet. I was thinking about it,” Tracey said “I may just leave the car at my parents and fly down.”

“Didn’t I read somewhere that your folks moved?” Adam asked.

“You sure did. They moved to Georgia. Samantha and I are certain they moved close to us just to annoy us and get up in our business,” Tracey moaned.

“Isn’t that what parents do?” Adam chuckled.

“Yes, some more than most. I’ll be right out,” she said, walking carefully into the dressing area.

“Take your time,” he said.

Tracey quickly took off the feet-killing boots and instead of removing the leggings, just pulled her t-shirt over the bikini top and slipped her feet into her flats. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and walked back out to meet Adam…the jeans she’d worn to the photo shoot on her arm.

“Ready,” she said leaving the dressing area.

“Wow that was fast,” he laughed.

“Yep. Since you insist on walking me out, let’s go. Samantha has someplace to be,” she said.

“After you milady.” He gave an exaggerated bow.

Shaking her head, Tracey walked out of the building to where Sam was waiting for her. Adam stayed right on her heels.

“Thanks, Adam,” Tracey said, opening the door and getting in the car.

“No problem. Hey, Samantha,” Adam waved.

“Hi, Adam,” Sam called back.

“Y’all drive safely,” he said turning on his heels and walking away.

“What was that all about?” Samantha asked Tracey.

“I was getting some ribbing from the guys inside and Adam thought it his duty to protect my honor,” Tracey giggled.

“Oh, how noble of him Mr. Playboy himself,” Sam said sarcastically and they both laughed.