Once Around the Track by Sharyn McCrumb Page A

were a customer service representative instead of a famous Cup driver. “It certainly costs a lot of money to put that palm-sized decal on your car, young man.”
    His wife nodded emphatically. “It certainly does. Daylight robbery.”
    Badger hesitated for a moment, perhaps wondering if the couple were joking, but apparently he decided they weren’t. Summoning his “aw-shucks country boy” look, he said in his most mellifluous drawl, “Well, ma’am and sir, if it was up to me, I’d be happy to slap that decal on there for you for nothing, but you know I don’t really have anything to do with it. The owners set the prices for sponsorship, and I reckon they spend most of that money seeing that I don’t run out of tires or have to use secondhand parts. Since I’ve been in the hospital a time or two from going into the wall from a tire blowout or wreck due to a faulty part, I guess my life pretty much depends on a well-funded car. So I sure do appreciate your help in keeping me safe.”
    The man sniffed. “Our decal is on the side of the car. The only time it shows up on television is if they show a close-up of your car, and the only time they do that is if you are in the top five.”
    His wife gave his arm a playful smack. “Oh, stop it, Lewis!” she said. “This poor boy’s life is at stake. If you want a bigger ad, then give him more money.” She enfolded Badger in a motherly hug. “And you be careful out there, honey, you hear?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” said Badger.

     
    With a proprietary hand in the small of his back, Christine steered Badger away from the elderly furniture manufacturers. “Nicely done,” she whispered to Badger. “Before they leave, I’ll talk to them about increasing their sponsorship.”
    “I just told them the truth,” said Badger, edging away from her.
    “Well, you might want to resist the urge to do that. The man by the punch bowl is the representative of Vagenya.”
    Badger blinked. “Senator Allen?”
    “Not Virginia! Va-gen-ya. Our primary sponsor. You know, the drug for women that—oh, never mind.” She patted his arm and smiled. “Just try not to discuss it. By the way, perhaps you and I could have dinner some time to discuss the direction we want to go with this team.”
    Badger nodded solemnly. “Tuggle and I would be happy to talk to you about that, ma’am.”
    Christine opened her mouth to say that Tuggle’s presence would not be required, but something in his eyes made her think better of it. So he wasn’t an innocent little redneck, after all , she thought. He’s like a fox cub. If cute will get him what he wants, he’ll use it, but if not, he can bite with the best of them. Interesting. Motorsports was more complicated than it seemed in all sorts of unexpected ways.
    Then they were within hailing distance of the pharmaceutical company representative, who hastily set down an overfull glass of wine in order to shake hands with Badger. “Charlie Conley, Badger. Pleasure to meet you.” His eager expression suggested that he had a pocketful of die-cast cars, but if so, he didn’t produce them.
    “How you doin’,” said Badger, whose retriever affability always made him look glad to see anybody.
    “We’re really excited about sponsoring your car this year, Badger,” said Conley. Then he winked. “No pun intended.”
    “Glad to have you on board,” said Badger. “I hope we have a real good year.”
    Someone had come up with a camera and motioned for Badger and Conley to pose together, which they did with equally perfunctory smiles and hardly a break in the conversation.
    “Well, we’ll be cheering you on. We’re even getting a skybox at Charlotte. People at corporate will get a thrill out of meeting you.”
    Badger nodded. “I’ll be there.” He managed to sound as if he had been ordered to take a machine gun nest singlehanded—bravely resigned to his fate, but determined to do his duty. It was an endearing expression, Suzie thought. You’d