Scarlet Thunder (2008)
“It didn’t take me long to get there.
The screen door to the trailer was closed, but the inner door was open. I heard classical music playing inside.
I knocked.
“Come in,” Tim said.
I opened the door.
“Hi,” I said.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. I could tell he was still mad about the newspaper article. But, ever the public relations man, Tim was polite. He sat behind a desk. Neat stacks of paper covered one side of it, a newspaper the other. A fax machine sat in one corner. A computer sat o...n a desk in another corner, hooked up to a printer. On the walls all around him were huge color photos of Sandy Peterson and the racecar team. On a shelf was a radio, playing the music.
“I really need to make a phone call,” I said, “and the nearest pay phone is across the track. May I borrow your phone? I can charge the call to my uncle’s calling card.”
“I guess so,” Tim Becker said.
“Thank you,” I said. It hit me that maybe I had imagined a little too much. If I was wrong, I was about to make a dumb phone call.MoreLess
The screen door to the trailer was closed, but the inner door was open. I heard classical music playing inside.
I knocked.
“Come in,” Tim said.
I opened the door.
“Hi,” I said.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. I could tell he was still mad about the newspaper article. But, ever the public relations man, Tim was polite. He sat behind a desk. Neat stacks of paper covered one side of it, a newspaper the other. A fax machine sat in one corner. A computer sat o...n a desk in another corner, hooked up to a printer. On the walls all around him were huge color photos of Sandy Peterson and the racecar team. On a shelf was a radio, playing the music.
“I really need to make a phone call,” I said, “and the nearest pay phone is across the track. May I borrow your phone? I can charge the call to my uncle’s calling card.”
“I guess so,” Tim Becker said.
“Thank you,” I said. It hit me that maybe I had imagined a little too much. If I was wrong, I was about to make a dumb phone call.MoreLess
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