6 6For their meeting, Tasha joined Trace in his cabin. She sat on the pull-out couch; Trace leaned back on his bed.
“So,” Tasha began.
“I know, I know,” Trace said. “I’m behind at MOHS.”
“The Phantoms,” Tasha said. “It’s a sweet name for an online high school mascot, but from what I gather, you’ve been taking it literally.”
“We don’t have to show up,” Trace replied.
“You know what I mean,” Tasha said. “Your counselor tells me that you haven’t been turning in your online work, you won’t take her calls, you don’t respond to her e-mails.”
“I’ve been racing a lot,” Trace began.
“Don’t kid me,” Tasha said. “At most you race three times per week. You’ve got lots of off-hours while you’re traveling. What are you doing with all your time?”
Trace shrugged.
Tasha looked around his cabin. Her gaze went to his gaming collection and his Xbox. She reached over and picked up two empty cases. “GTA IV. Warhammer,” she said. “Great.”
“Jimmy and I play some,” Trace said. “He’s good.”
“What does that tell you?” Tasha said.
Trace shrugged again.
“He’s a good gamer because he plays a lot. Because he plays a lot is why he’s a tire and setup guy,” Tasha said. “ ‘Proficiency at pool is a sign of a misspent youth.’ ”
“Pool?” Trace replied.
“It’s an old saying,” Tasha explained, “but nowadays it would probably be gamers, not pool players.” She tossed the disk cases to Trace.
He caught them. “I’ll get on it,” he said.
“I’ll get on it,” Tasha said, mimicking him. “You sound just like my younger brother, Caleb, back home. He’s a big basketball stud in high school. All he does is shoot hoops. Doesn’t leave home without a basketball—he’s constantly dribbling it between his legs or rolling it up and down his arms and across his shoulders. He’s silky smooth. Scouts been watching him since grade school.”
“He must be good,” Trace said.
“Way good,” Tasha said. “So good my whole family’s a nervous wreck about it. You know that movie Hoop Dreams?”
“It follows these two kids who can throw it down—I mean, they’re both really good—just like Caleb. One of them sort of makes it, at least to college ball. The other kid gets injured, gets into drugs—a really sad story.”
There was silence in the little cabin.
“I’ve been thinking that you’re in that kind of movie now,” Tasha said. “Except it’s stock car racing, not basketball.”
“You’re saying I’m not going to make it?” Trace asked.
“I’m saying you gotta watch the lifestyle part,” she said. “You can’t just race cars, play video games, and sign girls’ T-shirts.”
Trace looked down.
Tasha leaned forward. “You need to be more than a one-trick pony.”
“Okay, I hear you,” Trace said.
“This thing we got with Team Blu is business, and business can change just like this.” She snapped her fingers with a sharp pop!
“I’m on it—I promise,” Trace said.
“Good,” Tasha said, standing up. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, enough of this—you already got a mother and I’m not her.”
“That’s for sure,” Trace said.
Tasha paused at the door, the faintest of smiles around the corners of her lips. “I’ll bet you never saw many girls like me at your school.”
“None,” Trace said.
“Well, honey, everything they say about older women is true,” she answered. “But I’d never even consider hooking up with a guy who couldn’t finish high school.”
Trace fell back on his bed as her footsteps thumpety-thumped down the stairs. He let out a long breath, and lay there a couple of minutes, getting his wits. He thought about stepping into his little bathroom and bleeding his pressure valve (as Harlan called the act) but, on second thought, stood up and went to his little window. He wanted to get one last glance at Tasha, who looked great from the front or the rear.
She was still in the pit area. A Ford pickup and trailer carrying an orange Super Stock had stopped on the way out. Tasha stood with one hand on the truck’s roof as she leaned in. She was talking with Jason Nelson.