RIVALS | MxM MPreg

Chapter 11: Part 1

Daytona International Speedway: Car racing track in Daytona Beach, Florida

The weather forecast said it wasn't supposed to rain today; yet rain poured like a thunderstorm in the early morning—greying the skies, cooling the air, and dampening the tracks. It only came to a quiet drizzle in the midday hours, though the feeling, the wetness, lingered.

Landon stood alone by his team's garage, clutching an umbrella and watching his crew in matching DriveEase uniforms bustle around his C6 Chevrolet Corvette, making final adjustments. Gasoline and motor oil filled the air, overpowering the scent of rainfall. Not far away in the neighboring bays, engines from his opponent's crew roared to life, sending vibrations through the concrete floor. Spectators flooded the area, too; though none were allowed to loiter near the racers' garage. Beyond the open garage doors, the roar of practice laps on the track served as a constant reminder of the race to come. As Landon's attention went elsewhere, he noticed other drivers milling about, some chatting with their crew chiefs, others reviewing notes or simply soaking in the atmosphere, much like what he was doing.

Landon sighed, adjusting the upper zipper of his red racing suit before his eyes wandered elsewhere, looking for a specific someone who he had slept with to secure his victory in today's race. He hadn't gotten a chance to meet up with Jackson in the past two weeks—too many things happened—and he knew Jackson was probably busy as hell also to reply to his messages. Suddenly, when a roaring thunder echoed from the sky, he involuntarily jolted before whispering a string of curses. Goddamnit. For a split second, he wondered if the big man up in the skies was angry at him for what he was about to do; cheatin', like a no-good, low-down scoundrel, betraying the very essence of the sport he loved.

Ever since he sealed the deal with Jackson, it weighed heavy on his shoulders. Though he told himself it was for a good cause, he could barely sleep at night. If he didn't win this though, he'd lose everything—be forced into retiring at an early age, pushed back like he didn't matter despite his blooming career over the past fifteen years. He needed to do this, to hell with his guilt, to hell with his shame—this was for a good cause damnit.

"This weather's something isn't it?"

Ray White approached Landon from the sides with an umbrella in one hand and a hot cup of whatever in another. Like Landon, the racer had already been decked out in his suit; blue with stickered logos, and a bright and cheeky smile to add to it.

The familiar face made Landon let loose of his wandering thoughts, his attention stayed only on one of his dearest friends in the industry. He hadn't seen Ray in a good minute—since yesterday to be more precise. They had lunch yesterday.

"Sure is," he answered.

When Ray stood beside him before turning to face the crowd of soon-to-be spectators who were wandering about in the drizzle. "So you ready for today? We got some real competition this year 'round. Jackson Blaze, well me of course—hey, did you see the new kid who got qualified? What's his name? Charles Schumacher."

Landon shook his head. "The kid's good, but I ain't too worried 'bout him."

"It's Blaze we gotta worry about," Ray said casually, taking another sip from his cup. "Did you see him at the practice session yesterday? I never seen someone race like that since... well since you first started McCoy. He's a real show-off if you ask me, but he's good... You did good too y'know."

Yesterday Jackson clocked in on first place in the final practice session, breaking yet another bloody record. At this rate, when Landon would win today people might suspect something ain't right. Landon looked up at the clearing skies and closed his umbrella with a deep sigh. Regardless, even with the certainty of his victory, he knew he had to give it his all because Charles Schumacher's time was close to his. If the kid pushed him in the tracks, Landon would need to put up a struggle. Despite his friendly nature, Ray wasn't one to be messed with either. Ray had beaten him in at least two Daytona 500s over the years already.