Hot Summer Nights by Laramie Briscoe

Chapter One
    ‡
    “B urn ’em down, Wayne,” Lee Harper screamed his approval, grinning as he ran towards the makeshift Victory Lane.
    The rag-tag group of young men who called themselves their crew were already there. Clapping, hooting, and hollering above the sound of the car kicking up the clay dirt that made up the racing surface. With little money and shit equipment, they had won – and not for the first time in this young, summer season of racing.
    He watched with excitement in his eyes as his little brother turned donuts in the dirt, throwing up pieces of it and creating a dust cloud that made it difficult for anyone to see. Lee could make out the white of Wayne’s teeth against the dirt that covered his face. Immediately after winning, he’d lifted the full-face helmet, always wanting to be a throw-back to a bygone era when they didn’t worry so much about safety. Grinning, his little brother stuck his hand out to acknowledge the crowd with a pump of his fist. The crowd may have been what other tracks considered small, but this track deep in the heart of Barren County, Kentucky had produced winners before. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it would again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Wayne drove the car over and shut it off, hoisting himself through the window.
    “Excellent job out there, my man,” Lee congratulated his brother, holding his hand out to him. They shared a brotherly hug before pulling away.
    Excited brown eyes met his along with a smile that could sell any product, and Lee was sure that it would in years to come. People around the south had been whispering about Wayne Harper for years. Talk around town said he was the savior of grassroots racing. A Kentucky boy that came from the mold of moonshiners and bootleggers. He was no West Coast boy that looked up to Baja racers and IRL drivers. And nobody could deny the fact that at twenty-one the boy could flat out drive. A major buzz was beginning to take hold in the competitive levels of racing. Lee knew they wouldn’t be tooling around on these dirt tracks forever.
    “No,” Wayne shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “That was an awesome car you gave me. It was on a rail, it would let me do anything I wanted to. Anywhere I put the nose, it stuck. You gave me a bitchin’ piece of machinery tonight, bro.”
    The Harper brothers were well known in Soggy Bottom, Kentucky. In their small town, Harper conjured comparisons with Earnhardt and Petty. The best of the Harper clan had yet to drive on asphalt, but many of them knew it was coming; and soon.
    “Congratulations, Wayne.” Clementine Lewis gave him a heart-stopping grin as she walked over to stand next to him. In her hands, she carried a trophy that looked like it might break her in half.
    In her inaugural year as the track’s trophy girl she’d already given him three. Watching with a smirk on his face, he accepted the trophy, placing an arm around her shoulders. She shrunk away, slightly – he knew he made her nervous.
    “Now, darlin’, you know I don’t bite,” his voice was little more than a whisper as his eyes took in the picture she made. Blonde hair, long tan legs, and a dimple in her cheek, she was the epitome of every wet dream he’d ever had.
    “Biting is not what I’m worried about from you, Wayne Harper. You better watch where those hands go. Daddy’s on his way down to congratulate you,” she warned, her cheeks a rosy pink. In reality, she loved the way he flirted with her, but she knew that he was way out of her league.
    Wayne held his tongue and smiled. Her daddy was the main sponsor on his car, using Wayne’s popularity to drum up business for his convenience store. “Shit, Clem, I’m surprised your daddy ain’t down here pushing for a photo op. We got three already; we’re going to fill the wall at the store before the season’s over.”
    “Not if I have anything to say about it, you won’t. Cocky isn’t a good look on