11 - Self-inflicting

My task at hand lay simple and unrelenting in front of me. Faced with a true monster, I could only fantasize about a more pleasant situation to escape.

Brandon stood at the foot of my bed, an understanding smile on his face. I returned the smile and pulled my naked self out of bed. I approached him slowly, wrapping my arms around him. He didn't make much noise, but his expression changed to one more of empathetic concern, "You lied."

I bowed my head and sighed, "Yes." I whispered, tears filling my eyes, but I managed to hold them back.

Picking my head up, the daytime vanished back into dark, and Brandon's presence disappeared into thin air. However, my body remained naked as I stood there, fantasizing about feeling his warmth against my naked form, about simply having that ideal coming out where everything goes right. And, honestly, my fantasy didn't feel too far-fetched, even for tomorrow night. I smiled, for the moment feeling everything would turn out okay.

I stood there and stared at my bedsheets, my head hung low. Another fantasy crossed my mind. What if I wound up wrong about every assumption I had made? What if his curiosity at Subway was a fish for information simply to destroy me? What if he lied? We're talking a NAFSCAR driver, after all - not a saint. Why would he be any different? He came to me first, remember?

I pressed my paw to my already-erect penis and sighed as I stroked myself slowly. I closed my eyes and imagined a kiss with him, still standing up. My fantasies dwelled on the good, but did wander off every now and then to the bad. After a couple of minutes of slow, passionate stroking, I got a little impatient with my mind redirecting my fantasies and tried, instead, to make them work. Instead of him kicking my ass in the garage after coming out to him, I imagined him pushing me to the ground and jumping on top of me naked, making out with me. This thought reminded me of his musk, and I brought myself to a wonderful, lip-biting release that made my toes spread out and my legs go rigid as I stood there, making a small mess of my hotel floor, simply from that one memory of earlier in the evening. I grabbed some toilet paper from the bathroom and cleaned myself up, my scent strong in the room now.

The clock read 5:40, and I had spotty sleep all night. Either way, today it began again with Daytona testing. I had to be at the track at 8 for our team meeting and I developed an urge to head out early, but I couldn't motivate myself just yet. I sat on the side of my bed and played out scenes in my head. I thought of what I'd say when I'd see him. After fifteen minutes of playing different scenes and filing through different ways to get him alone, I stood up and began to rehearse a few of them.

I expressed myself through my body as I pretended to speak to Brandon, facing the sunrise outside my suite window, "Brandon, remember what I told you last night? He says yes. Well, um... I was nervous. I'm gay. Sorry. ...No. Don't apologize. Be confident... um... Brandon! Hey, bud! Break out the rainbows and KY Gel, I am a complete and utter liar!" I tried to make myself laugh a little. I did. I turned to face the clock. 6:37. Time seemed to move along slower than my dead father at this point.

The city of Daytona Beach glistened as the neon began to disappear progressively the more the sun rose in a pallet of oranges, purples, and pinks. I took a picture with my iphone and took a moment to rename it, "Overshadowed. 1/11/10." The title wound up symbolic of the barrier I prepared myself to cross today, but I really just fished for a word and went with my first catch.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal and coupled it with a large mug of black coffee. Typically I'd add milk to my coffee, but I felt particularly bold today. I took a big sip of the brew - a smooth, bit in-your-face bitter flavor, so I added some sugar. I came to a conclusion during breakfast: Today would either be one of two things; the start of a new relationship, or the end of my career. I dwelled more on the latter, hoping my fears would simply stay paranoia. Chances said they would anyway... I mean, I started having daymares that morning of Brandon slamming my head into a brick wall because I'm gay; just a tad far-fetched.

I didn't go as far as rush to the track as it I still had forty-five minutes till the meeting, but rather cruised in my Subaru down the road, contemplating everything. But my moping and cowering soon got interrupted by a phone call. I had given Louis the ringtone of a new band I found called The Actual Lions, and therefore saved myself the surprise.

I received a phone call in the middle of driving. I answered, and using my Bluefang, spoke. "Hello?" I asked.

"Hey! Jasper! It's Louie!" He sounded in a chipper mood.

"Oh, hey!" I didn't really want him to know I customized his ringtone as he liked surprising me.

"Jasper, guess what?" He sounded a bit excited.

"Yeah?"

"I hooked you and Brandy up for Friday night! She said she wanted to have a real date with you. She really likes you!" He sounded very proud of himself. "She said she'll meet you today and give you the details. She has an interview with you scheduled today during A.M. Practice."

His pride doubled as my downfall. He expected the positive reaction of a lifetime from me, a thankful cheer of glee, but it sure did not present itself. I didn't quite give him that cheer of glee, but I tried to hide the angry screaming, "Wow, really? Cool!"

"That's it? Cool? I figured that'd be awesome!" He insisted.

"It... it is!" I excused myself, "I'm just tired is all. Sorry."

"I am too, but hey man! We're back!"

I nodded to myself, "We are."

"How far are you from the track?" He asked.

I did find some happiness in him changing the subject, but I had actually been driving around Daytona Beach slowly for the last twenty minutes. I didn't want him to ask why. "About four miles. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He coughed as I heard a motor in the background, "Okay, we'll talk when you get here!"

"I got a meeting, but I will see ya soon." I finished and hung up.

My team meeting didn't have much to speak of. A lot of restatements from the last meeting, but mostly what the goal is for this year, sponsor obligations planned for the team, planned fan meets for the year, and a lot of encouragement to go out and drive our hearts out.

"Jasper." A deep female voice approached me from behind. I turned around to see the black bear, wearing casual team clothes. She definitely sat on the chubby side. Or was that muscle?

"Christine." I smiled at her.

She did not return the smile, "I'm not gonna mince words, I don't like that you're here... but I apologize for November. We're teammates, but I ain't gonna be easy on you."

I shook her paw, "It's okay. It's just... I don't even know you, but you--"

"Hate you? No. I don't hate you. I hate anyone that would take my best friend's position. The kid came from the lowest of low, we were best friends growing up, and it was complete bullshit he got fired." She slammed the back of the chair she stood in front of as she cursed.

I studied her for a moment. She really felt something toward Izra, and I wanted to pry at it a little, "I'm sorry... but hey! I'm sure he'll get something! The kid had talent."

"He really did." She managed a smile, "And I hope his own efforts work out. He said he's gonna try and start a team."

I nodded, "I heard something about that. But hey-- why did he get fired?"

"Some fucked up reason I'm not allowed to talk to anyone about. Per him. Can't break a promise."

I shrugged, "Aw, not even me?" I sounded gay. Dammit.

She gave me an odd look, "Er..." Did it work? Really? "N-no. Not even... you." She obviously had calibrated her gaydar, but something told me she wouldn't tell. I mean, it couldn't have been a dead giveaway.

I received my firesuit from Jerrod and changed into it, the purple, yellow, black of Cinemarx all over it along with my other associate sponsors and NAFSCAR logos. Like a walking billboard. Oh well, a minor catch. Didn't mean I wouldn't get to drive.

Though a bit late, I finally got to see my car's beautiful paint scheme. Black front with purple waves down the side fading into a purple rear panel with a white flash across the the hood and grill, as if moving fast. Most of the sponsors were on it, but the NAFSCAR decals were not yet. The number sat inside of the black encompassed by the white underneath, written in a yellow, fast-looking font, but still managed to hold classiness:25 .

We brought the car to the NAFSCAR inspection area as cars began to enter the track and drive. The 33 went to the top of the charts as I watched the pylon, waiting for NAFSCAR to approve my car. The 8 went to the top after, then the 10, and that's when I realized Brandon had begun his rounds on the track. I spotted his sponsorless orange and white car entering turn one and took a nervous sigh, remembering what today had in store, as if I had forgotten at any point, and that within the next couple of hours I'd be saying those dreaded words to him.

After inspection, Riley followed me to the garage, "You seem a little off today, buddy. Something eatin' ya?" He punched me on the arm.

I sighed, "Yeah, but I don't really wanna talk about it."

We walked to my garage slowly where my car my team's test driver backed out and adjusted the position of the car. My crew hastily looked it over, lifting the hood and ensuring everything remained top-notch.

"That's fine, bud. Just... will ya be okay on track? Cause if you're sick you may wanna wait till tomorrow. Christine can do your test for ya."

My eyes widened at him, "I've been waiting three months, dammit! I'm driving." I laughed at his suggestion almost, but I didn't mean for it to come off as rude.

"Sorry." He said sincerely.

"S'okay." I punched him on the shoulder, "Least I don't lie my ass off to ya." I muttered under my breath. He didn't hear me.

As I prepared for the test, I contemplated how I would get Brandon's attention this morning.

"Jasper." Tesla approached. I was standing right outside my garage. My car's rear end was sticking out slightly, "Alright, bud. Just like we talked about earlier. Stay calm and keep the bad thoughts out. Just drive. That's all you're being paid for today. If you're slow, that's good; that's information we need so we can fix it."

I scoffed, "Preachin' to the choir, bud." I recited it unenthusiastically, "If I need anything, I'll use my radio. If I crash, put the window net down. Oh, and of course, don't forget to breathe." I joked.

"Well, the G-forces are strong. Lots of weight on the lungs. Don't." He eyed me seriously and handed me the helmet, and that's when Brandon pulled his car into the adjacent garage.

"One second, Tesla. I... gotta ask him something."

Tesla sighed, "We don't have ti-" He groaned in annoyance, "Forget it. Make it snappy."

"Brandon Reese!" I shouted, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

He turned to face me. He mustered a smile, but it seemed a little more artificial than usual, "Erickson, Jasper." He spat.

I laughed a little as I rounded his sponsorless, decal-less car, "Sweet ride. Can't wait to see it when they get everything on it."

He patted it on the hood, "It's fast." He moved his eyes back up to me and sat on the hood, "Hey, look... last night was..."

"That's what I wanted to talk about." I pointed at him, and found it very convenient that he also felt something about last night. He obviously remembered it all. I forced myself to get right to the point. I tensed up again in fear, but I took a deep breath and shook it off.

His face lit up a little, "You did? Cause... I'm really sorry about asking such a personal question. See... erm..." He began, his eyes tracing the ground.

"We're good t'go, Jasper. Waitin' for you." I heard Jerrod's voice.

I turned around to see him alongside Louis and sighed in frustration, which seemed pretty odd considering my eagerness to get back on the track, "Alright." I dug up a smile and faced Brandon. "I'll... talk to ya later." I couldn't help but sound disappointed, but I don't think he noticed.

Alright, I'll admit it - I did not like Daytona International Speedway. Not like it wasn't fun to drive on, but simply because the track did not like me. My record here is best left to the history books, as I've taken some hard shots in ASCA and the Countrywide Series, not to mention my one and only foray into the Truck Series filling in for a driver not approved to run Daytona. This morning's test didn't play host to any remarkable difference. Spinning and hitting walls didn't seem to be my weakness, despite the accidents every driver gets in at Daytona sooner or later, but I simply could never seem to run a competitive lap on my own! Before I got involved in stock car racing, I had never driven on a track like it, but it's nearly inexcusable that I never learned over the last four years, having driven at the track in ASCA since 2006. Not to say I hadn't improved, but then what does that say about my early track record? Yes, I'm a statistics nerd.

I took a nice breath of fresh air after holding it for nearly two months the moment I hit 170 miles per hour again. My nerves lit up with euphoric sensations and I could feel every hair on my body quivering with adrenaline. The first laps of the year were always the most intense.

As I rounded turn 4 to complete my fourth lap at speed, I found myself being passed on the outside by a the 83 of Boz Trezmond - typically a back-of-the-pack driver. This puzzled me so far as to question my driving style, so I tried moving up the track a little more the following lap, and honestly, the car didn't feel all that bad.

"51.81" Tanner chimed in over the radio, "Everyone else is averaging a 49.6, J."

I pressed the button to broadcast myself, "You're kidding me..."

"No joke."

I made a few more laps, none any better, then went to the garage for a short period of time where I told the crew what I felt. I also observed the speed charts to find myself ranked 24 of 29. In other words, slow. On the other hand, I found some hope in the fact that I came before three of my four fellow rookie competitors, Brandon the absent fourth.

"You're not diamonding the corner enough."

I turned abruptly to see the handsome, bushy face of Brandon. Internally I grinned ear to ear at just the sight of him, but I kept my composure and merely gave him an interested look, "I'm not diamonding it enough?"

He stood against the wall and looked at the ground in thought, "Yeah. You turn into the corner a little too early. You need to drive it in a little bit later and just..." He swung his body to the left as if actually steering, "Dive in. You'll feel like you need to touch the brakes, but don't! This is the one time out there that you need to not trust your instincts."

"Well... what will that fix, exactly?" I got little closer to him, but I tried to be polite about it.

He picked up on it and laughed under his breath subtly, "Speed. You spend less time turning and more time going down the banking of the turn, you lose less speed in the turn, and therefore have more speed to carry into the next stretch."

Tell him now, Jasper! Say it! My mind begged me to get it over with, just as I had with Liam. I let out a broken sigh laden with fear, "Now... as I was saying before I had to go on track... last night..." I paused, trying to figure out how to say it.

"Yeah. Again, I'm really sorry about that. I just..." He paused.

We both sighed. I scratched the back of my neck nervously, "I... thought a lot about what I said to you, and... I think it kinda came off wrong."

He shook his head, "I didn't hear it come off badly... it was pretty straightforward."

"No... I--" I couldn't finish. Roughly seven seconds passed before I growled to myself.

"Jasper! Sorry to interrupt, but can we talk with you for a moment?" Brandy asked from behind. My short tail fluffed a little in surprise.

An escape? Or was this just delaying the inevitable? Regardless, I followed Brandy's voice and found myself in a brief interview.

"Jasper, how are you fitting into the Swift Cup Series so far?"

I thought for a moment, and some words found their way out, "Well, it's different... It's... it's kinda... like you always dreamed of being here... and now I'm here experiencing it... It's pretty humbling."

She asked a few more questions before it concluded. To put it bluntly, they were no Walter Crocite, but they weren't a complete embarrassment.

"So, Jasper. I gotta go cause I'm in a hurry, but I'm thinking we go to the Five Leaf Clover together on Friday, okay?"

I nodded with a smile as she left, "Call me, we'll discuss it."

Upon my return to Brandon's garage to complete my still-unfinished task I looked to my right to see, surprise, Zedley King. I gulped and tried to hurry myself back into the garage.

"You and I, buddy... we have some shit to settle." He spat at me, his finger firmly pointed at me, claw extended.

"What the fuck do you want now?" I sounded annoyed, not angry. I noticed that Basil and Rhys followed him. Wonderful. They looked just as joyful and cheery as Zed.

Zedley thundered his fist down onto the rear decklid of Brandon's car, his muscles showing their full potential as they left a slight ding in it. If his goal was intimidation, he did a fine job of it. I cowered back a little but tried hard to hide it.

"Hey!" Brandon shouted. It was at about this point I kicked myself repeatedly for not telling Brandon about these creeps.

I about spoke up to Brandon before I hushed myself, and now I got faced with this familiar situation; cornered doggy, strong kitty, guest starring a lizard, a wolf, and the doggy's potential gay buddy.

"Look... he's got a raccoon friend with him!" He pointed his finger at Brandon, the sheer size no doubt large enough to bore a hole in his stomach.

I fulminated; I felt a sudden determination to make sure these guys did not hurt Brandon, so I stood up, growling, but they didn't see me yet.

"What are ya gonna do, coon? Infect me with rabies?"

I stood by - Brandon scowled now. I didn't think he'd sit back and take the punches like me. His tail lashed territorially and his ears pricked upward, "Yeah? Fuck you. And I dare you to call me coon one more time." He lifted his fist, middle finger standing erect. He did not recoil, but stepped forward, showing no fear - something that became more and more apparent that I had to work on.

"What about shorty over here? He your bitch?" Zedley's deep, intimidating voice succeeded to scare me more than anger me, but I tried my hardest to hide it. I forced my ears to stay erect and my tail to stay anywhere but between my legs.

"He ain't his bitch, Zed. He's got no leash." Basil appeared from behind Rhys to show that he, indeed, could speak. He had a much thicker accent unlike anyone I'd heard - like Newfoundland, only a little more pronounced.

I stepped forward a bit. I couldn't remain as defenseless as I was, not in front of Brandon. I pointed a claw at him and opened my mouth without thinking of what to say, "Don't talk about Zedley's mother like that!" Damn, I don't mean to brag but I had a knack with the your mom comebacks.

As Zedley stepped toward me, fists clenched, Brandon smiled and laughed a little at my comment before stepping in front of me, placing a single raised digit in front of my face, essentially saying "Don't even try." I stepped back and let Brandon chat with the trio rather aggressively, before Brandon's crew stepped in and pushed the trio back out of the garage area.

This time, I felt like I didn't do anything wrong. At the very least, I stood my ground, yet it didn't matter. I fell to a sitting position and pouted. Fact of the matter is that it still hurt, and I still took what they said straight to heart and cut myself with it multiple times, creating an open, bleeding sore out of a paper cut.

Brandon had turned around and approached me. He sunk down to a kneeling position, "Jasper, you handled that well, but I'm sensing..." He looked to the side and smacked his lips once, "A lack of self-confidence."

I lowered my head and my ears fell with it, "I'm pretty pathetic, aren't I?" It took a lot for me to share this honest internal understanding of myself with someone in the garage, but Brandon was different.

He sighed, smiling, "We can work on it... I don't want you to get hurt."

SAY IT, DAMMIT! SPEAK UP!

"You were saying?" He helped me up and smiled at me. He seemed more chipper than he had been, but maybe it was just the adrenalin.

"I... I tell you what... I need to regain my train of thought. I'll tell you in a little bit." Yep. I delayed the inevitable, completely losing my surefire win.

I resumed my test around 10:40a.m. This time I took his advice, making the risky move to drive straight a little longer and diving into the turns. I did so for the first time full-speed on my second lap, in which I felt adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I saw the wall coming at me, only to see it disappear as I turned more abruptly left, tires gripping as I found my way to the bottom of the track, right along the line dividing the speedway from the apron. Coming out of turn 2, for the first time, the bumper of the car in front of me did not get much smaller. I nodded to myself that it worked.

"50.24. Whatever you did that time, keep doing it. You're 16th fastest." Tanner sounded a bit perplexed.

"You're kidding, right?" My voice held a different tone this time. One more enthusiastic and encouraged.

"Nope." Tanner sounded proud.

Gripping the wheel and diamonding 1 and 2 again, a tsunami of thoughts crashed over my mind. Does he really care that much about me? I disappointed him last night with a lie, all signs pointed to it, yet he not only stood up for me, but lent advice to better me as competition! There's more than teamwork and friendship there, no trace of doubt in my mind. Face it, all signs pointed to it, and honestly, why else would he have brought up water under the bridge unless he felt something for it? Surely, he had to have the same pressure on him. Too many similarities hung in between, yet so many questions remained unanswered. The girlfriends he spoke of? The... well, I guess that remained the lone one, but still! Look at the risks!

I gripped the wheel and hungrily held the gas down, my entire body giddy as the G-forces pulled me against my restraints in turn 3. 186. 187. Beautiful. My tunnel vision, my zen, resumed its grasp on me. I hit the frontstretch again. I lifted a gloved hand and calmly hit the radio button.

"Tanner, could you do me a big favor?"

I crossed the line and entered turn 1 before I got a response, "50.3. What's up, J?"

"I want you to tell the 10 two things. First of all, tell him the 25 says thank you for the input." I stated it plain as day.

"10-4. What else?"

"Humor me on this one." I took a deep breath. I knew this to be my best opportunity, and I knew what hung on Brandon's mind - the same thing that clung to mine, "I want you to tell the 10 that the 25 lied last night, and to meet the 25 in the garage in ten minutes." Gay or not, I knew he would know what I mean. I paused and considered that before hitting the radio button one last time, "Tell the 10 that Jasper lied." Final boss defeated, and out my words went. I beat my own game.