All That Glitters

Home : Stories by Catw00man : RCR 2008 AU : Path of Thorns - All That Glitters

Summary: It’s all about balance…or is it?

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
SERIES/SETTING: Path of Thorns
CHARACTERS: Dale Earnhardt Jr, Jeff Burton, Kevin Harvick, Dale Jr POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #105 & 110 (#4/15 & 3/18 for me) - Conqueror & Necrotizing Fasciitis
COMPLETED: October 14, 2008
WORDS: 4,047
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic takes place the Friday before the UAW-Dodge Dealers 400 at Las Vegas Motor Speedway about the same time as the previous fic When the Cat’s Away.... In our verse the boys stay at the casinos before the race.
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Off Strip Casino - Las Vegas, NV - February 29, 2008

It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole damn month since I’ve last been here. 

Reach down to turn up the edges of the two cards in front of me then toss in my ante for the round.    At least I’m playing Hold ‘em this time.  Anything’s better than craps and all the shit that brings up.  I just wish I wasn’t in this stupid hotel off the strip that’s not one of my normal haunts.  But what other choice did I have?  It’s late enough I haven’t had too many people bother me, but that’s no surprise.  This isn’t exactly a usual casino for drivers since it’s not so flashy.  And since I’m tryin’ to avoid one who really wants to lay one on me….

Toss a few more chips in after the flop because pocket sevens is better than nothing.  Cards fall right I might just end up with a full house.  So why do I get the feeling I’m not gonna be that lucky?  Maybe because my luck hasn’t exactly been pullin’ through lately.  Sure Richard got me into the race despite the rain.  But to wreck almost immediately…and to have to drive a piece of shit for not one but two days with the rain delay?  Yeah, pretty shitty luck after all.  Kinda like going to get a little consolation fuck and ending up with way the fuck more than I wanted to deal with.

Frown when I see the turn card and I’m probably screwed but I meet the minimum bet anyway.  I’m not gonna give it to this yuppie asshole and his three piece suit in the middle of the night without seeing the last card.  No fucking way I’m gonna lay down and die without knowing the score.  I don’t give up.  And I wasn’t going to Clint’s hauler to be comforted either.

“Shit.”

I know I’m busted when I see the last card and the smug look on the idiot’s face is enough to make me want to ram my fist through it.  Mocking green eyes and a snarky smile remind me way too much of someone I can’t seem to win against and I toss in my cards when his are revealed.  Busted.  Again.  Story of my life.

Watch the nameless jerk gather his chips and I ante up to win some of my money back.  But then the fucker starts picking up his chips and, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”  He’s gonna take my money and run?  Where the hell’s the “honor” in that?  What kind of weasel routs you without a chance to win your shit back?

He shoots me a hard glare as he stands and shrugs.  “Win some, lose some.”

Un-fucking-believable.   Shake my head and play with my own chips instead of unleashing my temper on the prick before he walks away.  Much as I might want to I know better than to get into a brawl.  I have enough problems already.  Glance around and where is that pretty blonde who was flirting with me earlier?  She’s a little old for my taste, but she was definitely interested.  She’s not at all what I want, but since I’m still hiding from Bowyer she’s probably my best shot for some company tonight. 

Stupid Clint.  Why the hell does he have to make something out of nothing?  Why can’t he let things be?  And why the hell did he have to guilt me into going back and kissing him?  It should’ve been a clean break.  When Richard called I should’ve walked out and let that be that.  But then he had to look at me with those pathetic, pleading blue eyes and I couldn’t walk out like that.  I couldn’t be a dick.  I couldn’t be that guy.  So I went back and kissed him.  Why the hell did he have to make an issue out of it?

All I wanted to do Sunday night during NASCAR’s idiotic attempts to run a race that wasn’t happening was to blow off a little steam.  After that…whatever it was in Clint’s coach I just wanted some down and dirty fucking, kinda like we did all over his suite a month ago.  But he wouldn’t let it go.  He kept trying to make it more than it was, trying to caress when I wanted to grab, be tender when I wanted to take and I had to get away.  That’s why I didn’t let him know where I’d be tonight and why I haven’t returned his damn calls all week.  Maybe if I put some space between us he’ll get the picture.  I’m not looking for fucking romance!

“Cards not treating you right, Earnhardt?”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.  No one would be here.  Not in this hotel.  This place isn’t “cool.”  I have to be hearing things.  I have to.  Fist my hand around a stack of chips and slowly turn to look over my shoulder and, goddamnit, it’s fucking Burton.  The words leave my mouth before I can even think about checking them.  “What the hell are you doin’ here, Jeff?”

“Kim likes the shops next door,” he tells me simply sides into the seat next to mine.  You have to be kidding me.  Is he really expecting to socialize when he’s been part of the duo that’s made me and Clint pariahs in the garage?  Watch him toss several hundred on the table for some chips and I guess he is.  Continue to stare at him as he tosses his ante on the table before he turns to look at me again.  “You know I figured you’d be off desecrating a church or something with our not so teammate.  What’s wrong, run out of places to screw or did he turn on you too?”

Blink at him and shake my head, tossing in a chip when the dealer clears his throat to get my attention.  Like it matters.  It’s only me and Jeff here.  Pushy jackass.  Turn my head to stare at Jeff.  Part of me wants to snap at him for talking shit about Clint but I manage to hold my tongue.  He can fight his own battles.  Right now I have to figure out what Burton’s angle is because everyone has one.  Who knows maybe he’s spyin’ for Harvick or something, trying to get me to say something I shouldn’t or make a scene.  Well, I’m not gonna give them anything.  I’m not takin’ the damn bait.  Daddy didn’t raise no fool.  I’m not easily manipulated. 

“What do you want?” I ask, barely able to control the emotion that wants free.  I’d like to snap.  I’d like to chew him out for the fucking stunt he and Harvick pulled in Daytona but I won’t.  There haven’t been a dozen words between us since Daytona, outside of the view of cameras that is.  I know better than to make a scene.  I have no desire to make Sports Center for anything other than hitting Victory Lane again.

“Honestly?  To beat your sorry butt in poker.” 

Blink my eyes in surprise…is he teasing me?  Putting out an olive branch?  Kevin I can read.  That sarcasm of his can cut like a knife but there’s no mistaking it.  But with Jeff…he can be so dry with his humor I’m never completely sure.  Of all my teammates he’s the one I’ve least been able to figure out and right now I don’t have a clue why he’s even speaking to me.

“Like to see you try,” I spit out but as I look at my cards I know I’m probably screwed.  He’s already put in his bet, raising me twenty, and all I’ve got is a ten and a six.  There’s another ten on the table so at least I’ve got a pair.  Glance over to see him looking at me expectantly and screw it.  Meet his bid even though I probably shouldn’t, but I’ve never been one to walk away from a challenge.  That’s probably why I’ve never been very good at this damn game….

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Earnhardt.”  The smug look on his face tells me I should back down but I can’t.  Not to him and not to any of them.  I’m not some stupid rookie and I’m sick of being treated like I don’t belong.  Keep matching his raises until I’m suddenly in so deep there’s no turning back.  And fuck it all if he doesn’t have a full house. 

“Goddamnit.”  Glare as the pile of chips I helped build is slid over to Jeff and I clench my fists until my nails are digging into my palms.  Hear his laughter and I glare at him with narrowed eyes.  “What the fuck, Burton?  Why the hell do you all have it in for me?  What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

He doesn’t immediately answer and I think that burns me even more.  Instead he takes his time and stacks all my chips in a pile then slowly raises his head to meet my eyes.  “Do you really want to know?”

His words are so simple and for a moment I’m stunned.  Is he actually admitting they’ve had it out from me?  How long has this been goin’ on?  Have they hated me from the beginning?  Was the Christmas party and Clint a set up? Has this all been one huge joke on Earnhardt with Harvick and Bowyer hiding in the wings laughing at me?  Glance around, unable to help myself, but of course they’re not here.  It’s all in my head.  No way they could all dupe me like that…or could they?

“Course I want to fucking know.  Spill it Burton.  Why the fuck are you all on my ass all the damn time?”

Watch as he gives the dealer a look and he must’ve been here before or he has clout I don’t  know about because the dealer gives him a nod takes off for a break.  Who knew Burton had so much influence?  Shake my head and level my eyes on him again, watching, waiting for him to tell me what this is all about because even if I don’t know him well, I know of all people he’ll be honest.

“Well it could have to do with you marching in like you were the conquering hero, coming in and taking over.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”  Look at him like he’s crazy because right now I think he might be.  I didn’t come in and take over anything.  Hell, Daddy raced at Childress but that doesn’t make me anything.  I just got out from under all the smothering pressure at DEI, how the hell could I take over anything when I couldn’t even take over Daddy’s own company?  “You’re nuts.  I didn’t come in and take over a damn thing.”

“Are you sure?”  His eyes bore into me and I swear I feel like he’s analyzing me or something and I have to look away.  He’s wrong.  I didn’t do anything.  Just brought in Tony Jr…and some of the other guys.  And my sponsor, but Richard needed a fourth sponsor.  That’s not taking over.  If anything it’s helping out.  And it’s not my fault the media is all over this.  That’s just how it is. 

“It ain’t my fault.  Not like I hurt any of you.  Richard wanted a fourth car, so I helped make it happen.  How’s that bad?”  Turn my head back to look at him and there’s the look that makes me doubt everything.  Fucking Burton.  Why can’t you leave me alone?

He tilts his head at me and for some reason I feel like he’s looking down at me.  “Maybe you don’t see it.  Coming from DEI…I can’t blame you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  Narrow my eyes and clench my hand around my chips again.  Who’s he to be talking down to me like a two year old?  I’m not a damn child and no one’s gonna treat me like I am.  “What am I supposed to see?” 

“Tell me, Junior.  You didn’t leave just because of the cars, did you?”  Tighten my fist around the chips even more until I can hear them creak against each other.  “And it wasn’t just her, was it?”

“What the hell are you getting at, Burton?  I think half the world has a pretty good idea why I left.  I don’t see why--”

“Because it has everything to do with the problems you’re having now.” 

Blink at him as he cuts me off and I have no idea what he’s trying to say.  How can DEI and the whole shit storm it’s become have anything to do with why my new teammates are a bunch of dick heads?  Open my mouth to ask but before I can he’s already answering me.

“It all has to do with balance, Junior.  With chemistry.  Sometimes you have it and everything is perfect…”  He purses his lips for a moment and I start to snap again but then he actually tries to explain.  “When they switched your crew chiefs, when they took Tony Jr. away it messed up everything didn’t it?

Shrug at him and relax my grip on the chips, flexing my hand when I find my fingers are stiff.  Curl them one at a time to make the slight ache go away and glance over at Jeff again.  “I guess.  More what you’re used to, really.  What’s your point?”

“It’s more than that.”  He drums his fingers on the edge of the table and I look down at the green felt, pondering his words.  Surely he’s not going to go on about that I’m new and it takes time to adjust because that’s all a load of--  “When I came to RCR it was me, Kevin and Robby Gordon…and it was total chaos.”

Snorts softly and shake my head.  “Well, duh.  Like Robby and Kevin could get along to save their lives.”  Turn to look at him again and arch an eyebrow.  “Are you trying to say I ain’t no better than Robby because if you are….”

“Relax, Earnhardt that’s not what I mean.”  Watch as he plays with his chips, stacking and restacking them before he speaks again.  “After Robby it was Dave and you know he’s as easy going as they come.” 

Nod to him and crack my knuckles, shifting in my chair.  It’s a pity Blaney didn’t do better than he did because I always thought he was a nice guy.  But nice guys don’t make it in this sport.  I learnt all about that with McFarland and my own team.  Sometimes no matter how much you want them to, things don’t turn out.  “But he didn’t work out either.  I get it.”  

“No, you don’t.”

Turn my gaze from the table to look at him again and I’m pinned by eyes more intense than I expected.  But that’s always been the way with Jeff.  I never know what to expect from him.  Shit, I sure as hell didn’t expect him to be talking to me.  “Fine.  Explain it to me.”

“Junior, I started at Roush, remember?  I’ve had plenty of teammates here and there and only once in all that time did it ever really work.”  Frown at him slightly and nod as I try to piece together who he means, but he doesn’t keep me wondering long.  “When Clint came in, something finally clicked.  I don’t know if it was because Kev ‘mentored’ him through Busch.  I don’t know if our personalities meshed or what.  It just worked.  The three of us could not only get along, but we could help each other.  There was a balance.”

“And I’ve gone and fucked it all up.  I get it.”

“It’s more than that, Dale.  It’s not just being new and it’s not just you.  It’s the whole balance.”  He levels his eyes on me and I can’t turn away.  “Even if you left now, there’s no getting that balance back.  Things have changed.  We’ve changed.”

“So what?  We’re all fucked now?  Is that what you’re saying?”  I don’t know what he expects me to do.  Turn completely in my chair so I’m facing him and level my gaze on him as I wait for his words of wisdom because I’m sure that’s what’s coming.  He’ll tell me how to make peace, I’ll do it and we can all pretend to be one big, happy family.

“It might be.” 

Blink and just stare at him.  He’s got to be teasing me right?  He can’t be saying this is all hopeless because…where would I go?  Run my hand over my face and look down.  Sure Hendrick and Gibbs were looking at me but, if I can’t make things work here…if I fall on my face again….

“Junior, I don’t know.”  Look up because for the first time I hear concern in his voice?  “Look, I’m telling you this because you have to see it.  You have to understand it’s not just ‘you and Clint’…though that doesn’t help.”  He bites corner of his mouth and lets out a long sigh.  “I don’t know if this can be ‘fixed.’  I don’t think we can find that old balance but maybe we can strike a new one.”  His eyes lock with mine.  “The point is a lot of that is up to you.  It’s not you alone, but in the end, it has to start with you.”

Stare at him another long moment then turn back towards the table, resting my forearms against it.  I hear what he’s saying.  I do, but I don’t have the first clue on how to make it right.  I have Clint…wanting, or acting like he wants more than I can give. I have Kevin pissed off or jealous or something and Jeff who…well at least he seems to care, though I have no idea how I can give him his “balance” back.  But I have to try.  I have to find a way to make things…a little more right?

Nod slowly then try to say…something.  Anything to let him know I get it, but before I can he’s already on his feet.  I feel his hand on my shoulder and I’m surprised when he gives it a squeeze.  “Think about it, Junior.  It’s not something you’re going to fix over night…but if you’re seeing it now we might all have a chance.”

Look back over my shoulder at him and I have to ask, “So, you havin’ this conversation with Harvick and Bowyer too or is it just me?”  My question is genuine but one look at his face tells me this is all for me.  Maybe they won’t listen, or maybe he doesn’t feel it’s his place to lecture them since I’m the “invader.”  Either way I don’t have a damn clue where we go from here.  We’re a long damn way from any kind of “balance.”  But maybe, if I can figure out where the hell all the animosity has come from I’ll have a better clue how to fix it.  And that means one thing.

I’m gonna have to figure out Harvick.

Jeff’s right.  We’re all screwed.

Reach out to gather my few remaining chips and pocket them as I slide off the chair.  I need a fucking drink and I don’t feel like waiting for the all too perky cocktail waitress to come back.  Turn away from the table and make my way out of the main casino and into a side bar.  It’s dimly lit as I walk in and I make it halfway to the counter when I hear another unmistakable voice.

“You sure as hell better not be fucking following me, Earnhardt.”

What.  The fuck?  Turn around and I’m met by flashing green eyes that bore straight into me.  He’s at a table a few feet away from the bar.  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.  Did someone label this damn hotel RCR central tonight?  This is not the same place Harvick stayed at before.  What the hell is he doing here now?

“In your wildest dreams, Harvick.”  Turn away from him and belly up to the bar, trying to wave down the bartender to get my drink and get away from him.  But then I have Jeff’s words about balance and shit echoing in my head and I don’t know what to do.  “Whiskey,” I call out to the bartender because this time Bud ain’t gonna be enough.

“Shoulda known you’d be drinking Jack.  Funny, I think Bowyer was looking for you.  Shouldn’t you be half way up his ass by now?” he says as he moves closer to me.

“Fucking can it, Harvick.  I’m not in the mood.”  Look across the bar and I can see his reflection in the mirror along the wall as he moves next to me.  Late as it is, the place is practically deserted save for the drunk snoring at the far end, slumped over the counter.  Nice place I picked out.  Glance at Kevin through the mirror, “What’s wrong?  Wifey turn you out for the night?”

See his face turn to stone at my words and wonder if they might be more on the money than I thought.  His hand clenches tight around his beer and I see something in his eyes I have to wonder at, almost as if there’s something going on beneath the surface as he glares at me.  “Least I don’t have to go around fucking my teammate and every pretty piece of ass that walks by just to get some.”

I should be mad.  I should be snapping at him but it’s such an obvious cut down that coming from Harvick it just sounds…off.  Watch him a little longer and see him squirm a bit under my scrutiny.  There is something off about him tonight.  I wonder what it is.

“What the fuck are you looking at?  Planning on making a move and screwing over another teammate’s life like you did Bowyer?”

Son of a bitch.  Turn to face him and all the anger I didn’t feel before comes rushing back at once.  “I didn’t fucking do a thing Clint wasn’t begging for.  I didn’t come in here like the fucking ‘conquering hero’ and I sure as hell didn’t try to ruin anyone’s fucking life.  So back the fuck off, Harvick, or do something about it.”

See him tense up and for a moment I’m certain he’s going to hit me.  Stand up straighter and hold my ground because if that’s how he wants this to go down….

“Ready, Harv?”

My head jerks around when I hear Burton’s voice again and I suddenly realize why Kevin’s here.  He must’ve been waiting for Jeff.  Not that I give a shit.  They can go play in traffic on the strip for all I care.

“Yeah, ok,” Kevin says and I turn my eyes back to him.  He’s still shooting daggers at me with his eyes and I have no doubt he would’ve made a move if Jeff hadn’t shown up.  Pity, I’m starting to wonder if he does have anything to back up that damn mouth of his.  Fuck Burton and his balance.  This undercurrent or whatever the hell it is ain’t gonna stay in check much longer.  It’s eatin’ us all up from the inside and before long it’s gonna have to be let out.

“This isn’t over, Earnhardt,” he tells me with fierce green eyes and I meet his glare head on.

“Bring it on, Harvick.  Bring it on.”

Force myself to stay still when he flinches at me and I can tell that pisses him off even more.  Jeff tugs at his arm as he shoots me a reproachful look and I don’t care.  He can shove all his advice up his ass.  Smirk when Burton has to all but drag Kevin away and take a sip of my whiskey.  One of these days, Harvick.  One of these days there’s not gonna be anyone standing in the way and we’ll finally see what you’re made of.  Funny, I think the very thought just made my night.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com