Christy pointed out that DW doesn’t conduct interviews with the drivers on the track, just stays in the booth. But I SO wanted DW to talk with Jeff!!! So I’m throwing around my artistic license again. Okay?

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5: Getting Back His Smile

Jeff leaned against the side of the Rainbow Warrior on the track of North Carolina Speedway. Large, glossy sunglasses hid weary eyes, a Dupont hat on his head. He sported a purple and blue streak just beneath his left cheekbone. It was a little sore, but within was where he concealed the more serious battle scars. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared out into the stands, as fans buzzed and cheered and drank beer. A group in the front held up a “Go #24!” sign, red with dark blue outlines. They howled to him.

“Wave to your fans!” His crew chief, Robby Loomis, said as the thought crossed Jeff’s battered mind. He raised his hand and waved it over his head. His fans cried out even louder. “You know,” Robby added, after the commotion had died down. “You are DAMN lucky Helton changed his mind and let you and Tony race today!” Robby leaned against the car, beside Jeff. “Even if you have to start from the back, are on probation, and just lost twenty grand.”

Jeff shrugged. “I don’t think I care today.”

“What do you mean you don’t THINK you care?”

“Just that,” Jeff replied, not knowing exactly what he meant himself. He looked up from his shoes and the gravel and noticed Darrell approaching, followed by a cameraman.

“Hey, champ!” DW greeted him. He clutched a microphone to his chest. “So you got penalised for fighting with Tony Stewart. You KNOW what everyone out there at home is wondering: Was it worth it?”

Jeff pursed his lips. “Well, I’m fortunate to have not been penalised too severely, I’ll say that.”

“Did you get in a good punch?” DW smiled, and turned the microphone back to Jeff.

“I think I roughed him up more than he got me.”

“Boogadee Boogadee Boogadee!” DW exclaimed. He looked into the camera. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see how Tony’s doing. Matt?”

DW lowered the microphone. He, Jeff, and Robby glanced at the car diagonally in front of Jeff’s, where Matt Yocum was interviewing Tony. The Home Depot driver was scowling as he slouched against his bright orange car. The sparse patches on his face that weren’t deep shades of blue, purple, and black were now turning hues of red. Jeff couldn’t hear the other, but knew by the expressions and rate of speed at which Tony’s mouth flew that the #20 driver was pissed.

Jeff returned his sights to DW, whose eyes were widening. “You do NOT want to know what Tony’s saying about you right now,” he informed the #24 driver, who shrugged. DW wagged his head, then looked to Jeff. “Hey, I gotta go, but race good today! Try not to tangle with Tony too much.”

Jeff shrugged again. He didn’t even care if Tony tried to take his revenge on the track.

“You watch your rampaging self!” DW warned, wagging his finger at the driver. “I heard what you did to Mikey this morning! Knocked the wind right out of him! You gotta remember, he’s getting on in years. Not up to where I am, mind you, but take it easy on the old boy.”

Jeff grinned. “I’ll try. But if he provokes me…”

DW laughed. “I’ll see you later! Let’s try to meet in victory lane, shall we?”

Shrugging again, Jeff realised he didn’t really care about that today either. He watched DW saunter off with his cameraman.

Robby sighed. When DW was out of ear shot, he looked Jeff in the eye. “You know, I got a sense that you’re not all here today.”

Jeff forced a smile that came out crooked. He handed his hat and sunglasses to his crew chief, and pulled on his helmet. “I’ll just race as usual.”

“No, you won’t,” Robby shook his head. “It WON’T be like usual if you’re not wanting this.”

Jeff turned to jump into his car when footsteps pattered up to the Winston Cup driver. “Uncle Jeff!” a tiny voice cried out. “Uncle Jeff!” Glancing over his shoulder, Jeff watched as Macy Waltrip scampered toward him in a frilly pink T-shirt and denim shorts, hair sunbeaming over her head in wild rays. In her hands, she clutched a piece of paper. She was huffing and puffing when she reached Jeff, and thrust the paper into his hands.

“I made you a picture!” she announced, panting. He looked down at the paper, at a red blob with two black circles beneath it, and a stick figure with a wobbly red hat. Jeff kept the drawing low enough for the girl to reach.

Macy pointed to it. “See? There’s you?” her finger stabbed at the figure, then at the blob. “And there’s your car! I made it to cheer you up!”

“Cheer me up?” Jeff echoed, looking at Macy.

“You looked sad at the party last night, and you sounded sad when you talked to Daddy.” Macy studied the Dupont driver’s eyes through the helmet. She cocked her head to the side and frowned. “You look sad now too.”

Jeff looked down at the picture, at his smiley-faced likeness. His eyes brightened and returned to the girl. “Thank you, Macy.”

She raised her eyebrows and beamed at him. “I’m glad you got your smile back!” she squealed, then skipped away, toward pit road.

“Cute kid!” Robby commented. Jeff just stared at the picture and nodded. Marveled at how apparently easy it was for kids to just get happy. He scratched the back of his neck, then placed that hand against his waist.

Macy had made him smile. And, with that thought, he grinned. He looked up into the stands, at the fans tiring out their arms holding up #24 signs of all types, ones with creative messages and fancy artwork, ones that had obviously taken a long time to make. That broadened his grin. His sights slid to the racetrack, where cars and drivers and crewmembers peppered the cement. He smiled at Rusty Wallace, who was making that “one final adjustment” under the car. At Michael Waltrip and Kenny Wallace bantering one another. At Matt Kenseth, Junior, and several crew members laughing as Happy Harvick chattered away to them.

Then Jeff glanced over at the #20 car. Tony chucked something out of his car, onto the track, and yelled at a couple of crewmembers. Even THAT made Jeff smile, though he didn’t know quite why.

Looking from the track to the stands and back again, Jeff Gordon just beamed. Then turned to his crew chief. “Hey, Robby,” he got the other’s attention. Nodding toward the track with a smile, Jeff announced, “I’m ready to race.”

THE END

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I'm kinda sad to see this all posted now. Cause I don't know how long it will be until my next fic. But I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Please review!

- dj