2. Blake
Blake
“B lake, I need you to find out who this Reggie Buchannon person is, pronto! I want him on my team. We may have a spot opening up sooner rather than later,” my father says without bothering to look up from his computer.
Considering who I work for, it makes sense that my father would request this of me. “Reggie already races for Wheelie Good Tires. It wouldn’t be ethical to poach another team’s driver, not when you already have two in the top ten for Xfinity and with times fast enough for the Cup Series if you had the right cars for it. What is this really about?”
At this, my father looks up. “Ryder Stone is a public relations nightmare, and after yesterday’s crash, I’m not sure how much longer we can afford to keep him around.”
I snort. “You’re a billionaire, and Morrison Motors has dealerships in 40 out of the 50 states. You can certainly afford to keep him around. Besides, the crash wasn’t his fault. I’ve watched the tapes.”
“Our image can’t afford it, Blake. Ryder comes from a string of bad apples, and his behavior leads me to believe he hasn’t fallen far from the tree. I’m giving him one more opportunity to turn his life around and change his public persona. I need your help to accomplish this. You’ll be running this company one day, and this is your legacy. Do you really want to see it tarnished?”
“It’s your legacy, Dad; not mine.” My dream has never been to sit behind a desk or run this company, but that’s what I’ve been groomed to do. It’s what my father needed me to do. I’d much rather feel 3,500 pounds of steel rumbling beneath my seat as I drive upwards of 200 miles per hour. Like Tom Cruise in Top Gun , “I feel the need… the need for speed.”
Dad fidgets with some papers on his desk, deliberately avoiding my gaze as he pretends to be busy. “Blake, Sweetheart, both you and your mom have shared your aspirations with me, but racing cars are meant for the big boys. It’s dangerous and no place for a woman. We’ve talked about this. My answer is still ‘No.’”
I scoff. “What about Danica Patrick or Katherine Legge? There’s also Shawna Robinson, Gracie Trotter, Manami Kobayashi, and Hailie Deegan! Not to mention, Sara Christian raced back in 1949, long before you were even born! She was a pioneer!”
My dad stands up so fast that his chair rolls backward and crashes to the floor. “None of them were my daughter! Your place is to be the driving force behind Morrison Motors, not behind the wheel of a stock car. I don’t want to lose you. We’ve already lost so much time together.”
When my parents divorced, it was messy, and the chances for reconciliation were slim. Mom had custody of me, while Dad took care of my brother, Teague. My brother and I spent summers and holidays together, sometimes at Dad’s house and other times at Mom’s. It wasn’t until I was ten that our parents could share the same room without fighting. Now, they might even be considered friends, which certainly makes the holidays more pleasant.
I walk around the enormous desk and wrap my arms around my father’s waist. “I don’t want to lose you either, but you can’t keep holding me back. I deserve a chance to pursue my dreams.”
My dad wraps his arms around me, returning the embrace. “You’re right, but your place is at the head of the company. Your brother has been training for this his whole life, and Teague chose his path long ago; you chose yours. I know that’s not fair to you, but it’s the truth. How about we get through this season and then figure out a solution that makes us both happy? I have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.”
I’ve been training my whole life as well, but he doesn’t seem to understand that, and there’s no point in arguing with him.
My dad’s reference to “bigger problems” is his attempt to divert the conversation back to Ryder. My brother often spoke of his friend with nothing but high praise; yet, every time I suggested that he introduce us, Teague always found an excuse to avoid it. Left with little choice, I started searching for Ryder online, and what I discovered was as perplexing to me as a Rubik’s Cube. He’s a complicated, beautiful mess. But just like the brain teaser, once I unlock the key to solving this puzzle, the mystery should disappear. Maybe once that happens, I’ll move past my fascination with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
I let go and take a step back, praying that my father will keep his word and that we’ll discuss my future once this problem is resolved. I’m not going to hold my breath, but I can always hold onto hope. “How do you need me to help? Would you like me to hire a public relations specialist?”
“I’ve given Bennie clear instructions. Starting today, Ryder will volunteer at Play It Forward to revamp his image.”
I slice my hand through the air. “Nope! That’s my sanctuary! Those kids need genuine role models in sports, not someone exploiting them to shift public perception! Those children will not be pawns, Dad.”
My father raps his knuckles on his desk and focuses his gaze on me like a hawk. “This will be a good lesson for Ryder to learn some responsibility, and I have the utmost confidence that you can guide him in the right direction. Will you do that for me?”
I would do anything for my family, and my dad knows it. “Yes, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Fair enough, Sweet Pea. I’ll make you a promise, and since you know I always keep my word, you can be sure I’ll do so. If you can transform Ryder Stone into a public relations dream instead of a PR nightmare, then we can discuss your aspirations in more detail.”
Accepting the olive branch for what it is, I take the deal.
“I won’t let you down.”
“One venti, half caff, soy, hazelnut, no vanilla, extra caramel, Caramel Macchiato for Blake,” the barista says as she calls out my drink. It sounds more like a novel than a beverage, but I like what I like, and I don’t make any excuses for it.
“Thanks, Lily.” I take my cup of coffee and head down the block toward Play It Forward. I need a little pick-me-up after the day I’ve had, but I still want to fall asleep at bedtime. Half the caffeine and a touch of sugar should do the trick. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s a lot of sugar, and I’ll likely be awake most of the night until I crash and fall face-first into my sofa cushions.
With a phone in one hand and coffee in the other, I check the latest standings in the NASCAR Xfinity Series. It’s one step down from the NASCAR Cup Series and the equivalent of the minor leagues. I mumble under my breath when I see the current rankings. “Ryder Stone is still in second place and Bryson Dawson is in first.” I search for the name Reggie Buchanon, and it doesn’t take me long to see the name is ranked eighth, just behind my brother, Teague. “You’ll get there, Reggie! All you need is a few more wins under your belt, then you’re golden.”
I sip my hot beverage, not paying attention to my surroundings as I keep checking the stats.
“Oomph!” I grunt as a body collides with mine, knocking me to the ground. The lid of my coffee pops off due to my inadvertent squeeze of the paper cup, causing the sticky, sweet drink to coat my T-shirt. I hold the fabric away from my body, the contents still hot and scalding my skin. “People have sued over such atrocities,” I quip.
A pair of penetrating blue eyes stare at me in horror. “Please don’t take me to court for texting and walking at the same time. I’ll gladly cover your dry cleaning, but with the number of fines I’ve accumulated recently and trips to court, I’m unsure if I can afford a lawsuit. My sincerest apologies.”
“You can certainly afford it, Mr. Stone. Since you walk as haphazardly as you drive, I’m not so sure I’m inclined to forgive your clumsiness. However, I will reconsider if you replace my drink.” I wave the empty cup toward him.
“I’ll order one on DoorDash right now.” With the phone still in his hand, he taps the small icon to open the delivery service app.
I chuckle and gesture for him to put his phone away. “That’s all right. It won’t be made the way I like it. The app doesn’t offer enough options to satisfy my preferences. It has to be ordered in person to ensure it’s just right.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those people,” he remarks sardonically.
Confused, I ask, “One of what people?”
“You’re high maintenance, but you think you’re low maintenance,” he winks, quoting one of my favorite movies of all time— When Harry Met Sally.
“Uh, no! I’m the worst kind! I’m high maintenance, and I know it! I have very particular tastes and a refined palate.”
Ryder extends a hand to help me up, and I gratefully accept. When my slender fingers entwine with his much larger ones, a jolt of electricity flows through me. It takes every ounce of effort I can muster to stifle the gasp that nearly escapes.
“I prefer a woman who knows what she wants because then there aren’t any guessing games involved.”
I still hold the shirt away from my body, although it’s no longer hot to the touch. It just feels gross and sticky. “I’m not your woman, Ryder. From what I’ve seen, you have enough of them.”
Ignoring my jab, he simply smirks. “So, you know who I am.”
I grumble out a reply. “Of course, I do. You work for my father, and eventually, you’ll be working for me if he gets what he wants. It’s my duty to know all of your personal details, and most of what I’ve learned, I wish I could erase from my mind.” That’s not entirely true. I want to erase the stuff I’ve been told is untrue. Even though my brother vouches for Ryder, it’s still hard to not let the media and rumors taint the image in my mind.
He opens the door to Play It Forward, gesturing for me to enter. “Wow, I didn’t even get a chance to make a first impression. My reputation precedes me.”
There’s a melancholy underlying his jovial tone that tugs at my heart. Ryder’s reputation does precede him, if I were to believe the gossip. But I’ve also heard plenty of good things about him and I want to formulate an opinion based on my own interactions with the handsome driver. I know there’s more to Ryder than what’s on the surface, and while I’m interested in digging deeper to understand what makes him tick, I’m not keen on getting caught up in his web.
“It does, but you have a chance to turn everything around here. Put your all into this opportunity, and I’m sure things will work out for you in the end. Your goal is to make people love and adore you, right?”
Ryder’s answer in this moment will shape the way I view him from here on out.
“That’s Bennie’s goal. I’m not going to lie to you and pretend I don’t have a lot riding on this; you seem to already know the truth. But maybe I can learn as much from the child I mentor as he can learn from me. I don’t really know what it’s like to be a kid. I didn’t have much of a childhood outside of school and sports. Everything I did served a purpose.”
I’ve read numerous articles about Ryder, noting that he learned to drive at an early age because he helped his father steal cars. The reason Ryder’s father is in jail is that Ryder is the one who put him there.