The roar of the crowd was deafening, a tidal wave of sound that crashed over the podium and swept through the stands. The checkered flag was still waving in the hands of the track official, its black and white squares snapping in the mountain breeze. The scent of burnt rubber and fuel hung thick in the air, mixing with the cool, crisp wind that swept down from the peaks.
Jason stood on the highest step of the podium, the golden trophy held high above his head, his grin so wide it almost hurt. The trophy was heavy and solid, shining as it reflected the flashing lights of cameras and the faces of the cheering crowd. The metal was cool against his palms but his heart was burning with triumph.
He had done it!!
He had finally won Cedar International.
The check, ten million dollars, was tucked safely into his jacket pocket.
He laughed out loud, the sound bright and uncontained, lost in the noise of the crowd.
