news had spread like wildfire. Especially once the update hit the official website to include the Micro Series logo underneath the ProV8 and Production Series ones. It served as a reminder of the pecking order—as if I didn’t already know that the fucking Mini was going to be putting me at the bottom of the heap, racing wise.
At least I was in a car; that’s what both Alyssa and Dr. Henrikson, my psychiatrist, said I had to keep telling myself.
“Everyone’s heard about it by now,” he said.
“And let me guess, I’m the fucking laughingstock.”
“Nah, man. In fact, I think you’ve even started to win over some of your biggest detractors.”
I scoffed before taking another big swig of my beer. I hadn’t had anything to drink in such a long time it felt like saying hello to an old friend.
“Seriously, man, most everyone I’ve spoken to has agreed that they think it’s gonna be great seeing you back on track. There wasn’t anyone who wanted to see the shit hit the fan like it did.”
I could imagine exactly who the main exception to the “most everyone” was. I could guarantee his name started with a H, and he was a psycho who’d stolen so much that was important to me. I chugged the last of my beer before grabbing another one.
Morgan continued to talk shop, telling me the goss from upstairs, where the drivers, publicists, strategists, and other “important” people worked. I couldn’t believe how long I’d held the same belief, but in my short time with the mechs, I had grown to realise that the people on inflated salaries were no more important than the lowest apprentice. After all, the promoters signed the sponsors, and without the money there would be no car, but without a decent driver and a well-maintained car, the sponsors wouldn’t get their required track time.
It was the circle of life, baby—or at least the circle of racing.
The afternoon passed quickly in a haze of swimming, sun, and booze. I gazed in the direction of Alyssa and the girls regularly to make sure she and Phoebe were having a good time.
Eventually, Morgan and I became surrounded by my crew. Ryan and Calem had clearly decided that knowing me gave them an “in” with Morgan, a reason to shoot the shit with him—something that would generally never happen—and they used it to their full advantage. Although it could have been seen to be opportunistic and maybe should have pissed me off, it didn’t. It made me feel somewhat important to be the bridge between the two worlds.
By the time the sun was starting to set, I figured it had been a while since I’d last seen Alyssa and decided to go look for her. As I stood, my head spun a little from the alcohol and sun. I hadn’t realised quite how much I’d had to drink. It made me a little unsteady on my feet as I staggered off toward the last place I’d seen her.
I hunted around the party for a little while. Most of the couples had come back together and paired off, so I couldn’t understand where she could be. Eventually, I spotted her sitting in one of the banana lounges a distance away from everyone else.
She was shaded by the darkness, but it was clear she’d been in the water because the moonlight shone off her wet skin. She’d tied her sarong loosely around her hips, revealing one of her perfect legs right up to her thigh. I licked my lips, longing for a taste of the creamy skin there. I was getting ready to go over to her when I heard her laughter ring out and realised she was talking with someone. I squinted through the darkness to see her companion, expecting to see Eden, or possibly even Hazel, but was instead greeted by the image of Hunter’s dark hair and beady black eyes.
Without thought, I raced over to her.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, looking between them for a second before closing my eyes. I tried to do my creative visualisation shit that Dr. Henrikson had been teaching me, but it was doing jack shit when faced with the sight of
At least I was in a car; that’s what both Alyssa and Dr. Henrikson, my psychiatrist, said I had to keep telling myself.
“Everyone’s heard about it by now,” he said.
“And let me guess, I’m the fucking laughingstock.”
“Nah, man. In fact, I think you’ve even started to win over some of your biggest detractors.”
I scoffed before taking another big swig of my beer. I hadn’t had anything to drink in such a long time it felt like saying hello to an old friend.
“Seriously, man, most everyone I’ve spoken to has agreed that they think it’s gonna be great seeing you back on track. There wasn’t anyone who wanted to see the shit hit the fan like it did.”
I could imagine exactly who the main exception to the “most everyone” was. I could guarantee his name started with a H, and he was a psycho who’d stolen so much that was important to me. I chugged the last of my beer before grabbing another one.
Morgan continued to talk shop, telling me the goss from upstairs, where the drivers, publicists, strategists, and other “important” people worked. I couldn’t believe how long I’d held the same belief, but in my short time with the mechs, I had grown to realise that the people on inflated salaries were no more important than the lowest apprentice. After all, the promoters signed the sponsors, and without the money there would be no car, but without a decent driver and a well-maintained car, the sponsors wouldn’t get their required track time.
It was the circle of life, baby—or at least the circle of racing.
The afternoon passed quickly in a haze of swimming, sun, and booze. I gazed in the direction of Alyssa and the girls regularly to make sure she and Phoebe were having a good time.
Eventually, Morgan and I became surrounded by my crew. Ryan and Calem had clearly decided that knowing me gave them an “in” with Morgan, a reason to shoot the shit with him—something that would generally never happen—and they used it to their full advantage. Although it could have been seen to be opportunistic and maybe should have pissed me off, it didn’t. It made me feel somewhat important to be the bridge between the two worlds.
By the time the sun was starting to set, I figured it had been a while since I’d last seen Alyssa and decided to go look for her. As I stood, my head spun a little from the alcohol and sun. I hadn’t realised quite how much I’d had to drink. It made me a little unsteady on my feet as I staggered off toward the last place I’d seen her.
I hunted around the party for a little while. Most of the couples had come back together and paired off, so I couldn’t understand where she could be. Eventually, I spotted her sitting in one of the banana lounges a distance away from everyone else.
She was shaded by the darkness, but it was clear she’d been in the water because the moonlight shone off her wet skin. She’d tied her sarong loosely around her hips, revealing one of her perfect legs right up to her thigh. I licked my lips, longing for a taste of the creamy skin there. I was getting ready to go over to her when I heard her laughter ring out and realised she was talking with someone. I squinted through the darkness to see her companion, expecting to see Eden, or possibly even Hazel, but was instead greeted by the image of Hunter’s dark hair and beady black eyes.
Without thought, I raced over to her.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, looking between them for a second before closing my eyes. I tried to do my creative visualisation shit that Dr. Henrikson had been teaching me, but it was doing jack shit when faced with the sight of
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