CHAPTER 18
Dev
Nothing says I love America more than a party in London.
Location aside, every detail of the club screams it. A moment ago, I was almost smacked in the face by an eagle pi?ata, and I’m pretty sure George Washington is doing Jell-O shots at the bar. The chants of USA! USA! are bound to start at any second.
Beside me, Chava’s salivating over the model-slash-waitress passing by wearing nothing more than red-and-white striped bikini bottoms and glitter star-shaped pasties. I won’t deny that I glanced, but only to confirm that I wasn’t hallucinating. Buck’s Fourth of July parties have always been tacky and wild, but damn, this is a whole new level.
‘I think I might be overdressed,’ Willow says on my other side, touching the short hem of her dress. It’s red and silky with thin straps crisscrossing over her back. The second she walked out of the hotel wearing it, I wanted to tug on one of those strings and drag her back to my room.
It’s been two days since Buck ended my race prematurely because of his over-inflated ego – and two days since I told Willow in so many words that I was ready to dissolve our agreement to keep things professional. She understood what I meant, yet she hasn’t brought it up, and I haven’t pushed.
But I don’t know how long I can keep acting like I’m not fully obsessed with this girl. ‘You’re perfect,’ I tell her, throwing out any hope of keeping my fixation under wraps. Might as well speak my mind now. Dropping my voice, I add, ‘Not that I’d mind seeing you in those pasties.’
‘Dev,’ she warns in a horrified gasp, her eyes swinging up to me. And while her expression is one of shock, the underlying spark in her gaze heats my blood.
‘Not sorry.’ It’s flippant and true, and I’m done being subtle. With one hand cupping her elbow, I put my other on Chava’s shoulder to guide them both. ‘Come on, they’ve got a taco bar.’
Chava makes a dreamy sound, finally tearing his focus away from the waitress. ‘Nothing more American than Mexican food.’
‘And it’s probably the best we’ll get in this country. Let’s go.’
Chava pulls away as we move toward the serving line, grabbing a plate and eagerly awaiting his turn. I move a little slower, my hand still on Willow’s elbow. If she questions my need to touch her, I’ll say it’s because I don’t want her to trip in her giant platform heels, though she’s managed just fine so far. If she’s had any joint issues or been in pain since we’ve been travelling, she hasn’t mentioned it. Either she’s doing better these days or she’s keeping it from me.
‘You feeling okay?’ I ask her over the din of conversations and an AC/DC song blasting in the background.
She nods and leans into me a little, making my heart stutter. I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it, like it’s natural for her body to seek out mine. It gives me hope that I sure as shit shouldn’t be feeling.
‘Just a little tired,’ she admits, smiling softly, seemingly recovered from my pasties comment. ‘I don’t know how you travel like this and still manage to race. My head’s spinning.’
As I consider my response, I shift so I can face her before I speak, but her body moves with me. She’s not just leaning into me like I thought. No, she’s redistributed most of her weight to her right side, which means I’m supporting her far more than I realized. She has her left hip popped out to the side slightly, as if she’s trying to take the pressure off it. She’s clearly in pain – and probably a lot of it.
‘Let me take you back to the hotel,’ I tell her, giving her a once-over, searching for any other clues that give away her discomfort. ‘You don’t need to be here if you’re hurting.’
She frowns up at me, straightening a little. ‘I said I was tired, not hurting.’
‘Wills.’ I level her with a stare. ‘You’re obviously uncomfortable. We can leave right now. I’ll call Mark on our way so he can be ready to work on your—’
‘I’m fine,’ she interrupts and pulls her elbow out of my grasp so she’s standing on her own in those ridiculous shoes. ‘I took an anti-inflammatory before we left, so it should be kicking in soon. But if I need to leave, I can do it on my own.’
The hell she can. I’m not about to let her wander back up a steep flight of steps and out onto the London streets to fend for herself. She’s staying where I can see her at all times so I know she’s okay.
I’m about to tell her as much, but she doesn’t give me a chance to argue. ‘You need to put in as much face time as possible tonight.’ She looks out into the crowd, her attention snagging on something behind me. Probably Buck and his Texas posse. ‘I still can’t believe he didn’t invite you to that dinner.’
My protectiveness scales back a little at the reminder. On the plane yesterday, I told her about Reid’s comment. She and I sat side by side and caught up, since I’d passed out the second I made it back to my hotel room after my meeting with the engineers the night before. It was a blessing, really, that I’d accidentally bailed on her. If I’d shared the information then, there’s no way she would have slept peacefully that night. Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe how angry she was when I finally spilled the details.
If she didn’t get why I have to leave Argonaut before, she does now. And she wholeheartedly agrees. I have to find a team to take me on, because my time here is ticking away. If I’m not careful, I’ll be left without a race seat next season.
It’s not necessarily a death sentence. Plenty of drivers have disappeared for a year or two, even three, and made a successful comeback. But I don’t want to take that risk. I don’t want to step back and find myself forgotten. I haven’t made a big enough impact on the sport to remain in the collective consciousness for long. I need to make a splash.
I need to win.
‘It is what it is.’ I pick up a plate and hand it to her. ‘I’ll look for Reid in a bit and see what information I can get out of him.’
‘You think he actually went to the dinner?’
I shrug and reach for the tongs at the first taco station. ‘No clue. But Buck is a hard man to say no to, even if you’re not interested in what he’s saying.’
Willow lowers her voice as I place food on her plate, her attention fixed firmly on my face. ‘And you think he wants Reid to take your spot?’
‘Not like he’s going to take Nathaniel’s.’
She falls silent at that, her red lips pulling down in a frown. She doesn’t even protest when I pile five tacos on her plate. I don’t expect her to eat them all, and she doesn’t, but she surprises me by eating three and a half once we find a table, though she broods the whole time.
I don’t interrupt her, and Chava peeled off to eat with a group of mechanics, so I soak in silence until she finally pushes her plate away and turns to me.
‘It’s time to kick things into overdrive,’ she declares, her eyes lit with a determined intensity.
I smirk, but my pulse picks up a little. She’s sexy when she’s scheming. ‘I think I know a little bit about that.’
She angles her body toward me, her posture straight like she’s no longer in pain. The drugs have likely kicked in, and being off her feet surely doesn’t hurt. Not to mention the distraction of having a problem to solve.
‘It’s time to get out there and socialize,’ she instructs. ‘Talk to Buck and everyone he’s with. Talk to anyone who looks remotely important, even if you don’t recognize them. Especially if you don’t recognize them. You’re done sitting in the shadows and keeping your head down. The scandal’s over; we’ve made a ton of progress on your reputation. It’s time to go on the charm offensive and get people back in your corner.’
My smirk morphs into a grin. I love watching the way her mind works. She’s a phenom, a genius at what she does. And goddamn if I’m not getting a little hard right now because of how passionate she is about this plan. About me.
‘This is just the first step,’ she warns. ‘Get ready to really put yourself back out there, including doing the drivers’ press conferences again.’
Argonaut hasn’t sent me to one since Jani’s post went viral, even though teammates are supposed to trade off. They’ve been coming up with various excuses as to why I can’t attend, like that I’m recovering from an ear infection, or that I’ve lost my voice after a meet and greet. I wouldn’t be surprised if they told the press that a giant whale came out of the ocean and swallowed me whole – but don’t worry, I’ll be fit to race this weekend.
I haven’t complained. Willingly setting myself up for invasive questions after Jani’s big fuck-you? No thanks. I field plenty of those in the media pen after races already, though I can usually count on Patsy to quickly guide me away before things go too far south.
But if Willow gets her way, I’m going to have to face it head-on.
‘Time to tell the world that Dev Anderson is back,’ she finishes, nodding slowly, resolutely.
‘No, not that I’m back,’ I correct her, brushing my fingers over her temple as I tuck her hair behind her ear, unable to resist touching the source of her brilliance. Maybe a little will rub off on me. ‘I want them to know I never left.’
Her eyes are alight, and her grin radiant. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss her more.
‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘You never left.’
——
Willow meant what she said about kicking things into overdrive.
My social media engagement is up a wild amount. I’m in talks for a new brand deal with a major fitness technology company. And a few mainstream media outlets have even contacted Howard about doing interviews. I’m not sure what kind of black magic Willow has been performing behind the scenes in the past couple of days, but it’s working. My name is very much back in people’s mouths – and none of the talk is negative.
Today, though, it’s on me to play my part. I’m waiting in the wings at Silverstone for the drivers’ press conference to start. In a few minutes, I’ll share a couch with Zaid Yousef, Thomas Maxwell-Brown, Axel Bergmüller and Reid Coleman. Zaid and Axel are in the midst of a heated battle for first place in the championship, so the questions lobbed today will likely be directed at the two of them. But damn if I’m not just as interested as the rest of the world to see the bitter rivals sitting side by side.
When Reid shows up, we do the hand-slap, back-pat thing, and he dutifully nods to the woman standing next to me. I swear, Argonaut’s head of comms only smiles when her favourite Texas boy is around.
‘Hello, Ms Patsy.’ Reid’s drawl is always a little more pronounced when he’s speaking to a fellow southerner. ‘Doin’ all right?’
Patsy beams up at him and pats his arm. ‘Doin’ just fine, sweetheart. You taking care of yourself?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he answers. ‘Best I can.’
After a minute or two of idle chit-chat between them, we’re given the okay to enter the press conference room. By then, my stomach is twisted in knots. Based on this interaction alone, it’s obvious that Patsy would rather have golden boy Reid to look after instead of me. I’ve gotta catch him alone after this to see whether he went to that dinner with Buck, since I didn’t see him at the party afterward. If my time at Argonaut is already up, I need to know.
Reid and I are the first ones on the couch, waiting for the drivers who can get away with being late to join us. Thomas is the next to stroll in. He greets the reporters in attendance warmly before he joins us on stage and says hello in the most hilariously stereotypical British way. Once he’s sitting on Reid’s other side and they strike up a quiet conversation, I scan the small audience.
Patsy stands guard in the back, phone in hand to record the session so she can replay it later and nitpick my every word. But the person I’m looking for is next to Patsy, little pink notebook clutched against her chest and wide brown eyes surveying the room.
Willow doesn’t have her curls tied back in a ribbon like she usually does when she’s dressed in full Argonaut regalia. No, today she’s left them to tumble over her shoulders. All I want to do is twist one around my finger, preferably while she sits on my lap. I wouldn’t even mind if it happened right here on this uncomfortable couch.
Every day it hits me a little harder, sinks in a little more – I’d do anything, anywhere, at any time with her as long as it meant I got to have her near me.
I’m distracted from my fantasies when another figure walks into the room. Zaid. He waves and quietly apologizes for his tardiness before stepping onto the stage. With a nod to the rest of us, he takes a seat next to Thomas. He’s the only one on the couch not wearing a bold colour or pattern. His T-shirt is the Mascort black and silver; the understated palette suits him.
For a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to wear it, to race for a top-tier team, to actually be a contender for the championship. Hell, I’d even take being decked out in British racing green like Thomas and the McMorris team, currently fourth in the Constructors’ Championship. Or if Scuderia D’Ambrosi would take me, I’d happily trade my red, white and blue for just red. If Buck’s offer is good enough to convince Reid to come over, maybe we can trade. It’s aggressively wishful thinking.
When Axel walks in, I see the last of the top-tier colours – the navy and neon-yellow of Specter Energy.
The man barely spares us all a glance as he moves to my side of the couch, motioning for me to scoot down with a tilt of his head. There’s plenty of room at the other end, but he’s not about to sit next to Zaid. With the ugly history between the two, the most time they’re willing to spend together is when they’re on the podium, trading off between the first and second steps.
They’ve been passing the Drivers’ Championship back and forth over the past four years as well. Axel won last year after an incredibly close season. This season, Zaid is leading, but not by much. Their point totals are so close that it’s anyone’s guess who will be lifting the trophy this year. But, as always, I’m rooting for Zaid.
Reluctantly, I shift closer to Reid, who follows suit and moves toward Thomas. To his credit, Axel thanks me as he sits down, something he wouldn’t have bothered to do when he was younger and somehow even more of a selfish asshole. Considering we came up through the Formulas together and we’re the same age, I know him better than I care to admit. Reid and Thomas raced alongside us too. The four of us came into F1 in the same season as rookies, but while the rest of us were friendly with one another, Axel kept himself apart.
I can’t fault him for it. There’s no rule that says we have to be anything more than co-workers. He and I aren’t friends. We never have been. And I doubt we ever will be, since his behaviour off the track isn’t exactly what I want to surround myself with. He can shout racial slurs in song lyrics far away from me.
Steven Watters, our interviewer, has been sitting patiently across from the couch, waiting for us to get settled. Now that we’re all here, he turns to the cameras and the audience, introducing us and getting the show on the road.
As expected, most of the questions are directed toward Zaid and Axel on opposite ends, and every eye in the place hungrily bounces between the two. It’s tense, considering they both DNF’d in the last race, thanks to a daring move from Axel gone wrong. They’re lucky they walked away from it unscathed, but if their battle heats up any more, that might not be the case.
‘Dev, coming over to you,’ Steven says several minutes in.
Heart rate accelerating a fraction, I pick up the microphone I haven’t had to touch so far.
‘We’re all aware of your . . . scandal following the Australian Grand Prix. You deactivated your social media accounts after putting out a statement refuting the claims and went quiet for a while, but it seems you’ve made a return.’
Good for him for not beating around the bush, though the stilted way he mentioned my scandal is almost laughable. If the guy wasn’t so stuffy, I’d be facing a slightly more pointed question.
‘I have, yeah.’ I relax into the couch and drape an arm across the back. ‘Life’s boring when you don’t have something to scroll through while sitting on the toilet.’
The audience of reporters and team representatives titters and chuckles as Steven clears his throat, looking a little flustered by my response. ‘Right. Well. What prompted your return?’ he asks, leading me back to the topic at hand.
With a glance at Willow and Patsy, I resolve to get back to the script. Patsy may scare the shit out of me most days, but I’m more concerned about disappointing Willow.
Once the crowd and the snickering drivers next to me settle, I clear my throat. ‘It was time,’ I say easily, though I’m careful to keep from sounding flippant. ‘I like sharing parts of my life with my fans and supporters. Social media has made that easy, and I’ve felt detached without it. Like I’m missing out on an important connection.’
I take a breath and scan the crowd. ‘Look, I know the internet can be a lawless place. There are people waiting around every corner, determined to bully and tear others down. But there are some incredibly supportive people out there too. They’re the ones who fuel me to keep pushing, to keep doing my best. I don’t want to let them down, because I wouldn’t be here chasing my dreams if it weren’t for them in my corner. I want to fight for them. I want to give them my all.’
That group also includes the girl across the room who’s wearing a smile that lights up her entire face and flashing me a thumbs-up. How anyone could see it – see her – and not want to melt blows my mind. Just the sight makes me want to blurt out to the whole world that she’s the reason I can sit on this couch without wanting to throw up from nerves. The topic of conversation isn’t the most comfortable, but I’m doing it because she told me it’s for the best.
And she’s right. Without her encouragement, I’d still be hiding from the world.
‘So, yeah,’ I force myself to finish before I accidentally confess something I can’t take back. ‘Prepare to be sick of me.’
Another round of muffled laughter spreads around the room, but my attention lies firmly on Willow and the way she lifts a hand to her lips to cover her own laugh.
I don’t look away from her as Steven moves on to Reid, and I only faintly register the question he asks about how Reid thinks D’Ambrosi will fare this weekend. Willow’s staring right back at me, a question in her eyes, making it impossible to focus on anything else. I answer the look she’s giving me with a wink. I barely notice the flashes in the crowd of photos being snapped, and I’m sure there will be a video clip of me online in no time.
But that’s fine. Let them wonder who I’m trying to charm. All that matters is that she knows.
And that she understands that I’m not holding back any more.
——
‘Reid. Wait up.’
He turns and steps aside in the hallway, waiting for me to catch up. We have fan signings to get to, but he waves off his own comms director so we can have a little privacy.
‘I’m amazed Steven asked either of us a single question,’ he says once I’m leaning against the wall next to him. ‘They should have just called Zaid and Axel up today instead of making the rest of us sit through that rivalry bullshit.’
‘Agreed,’ I say, though I quickly lean in closer and drop my voice. Their rivalry isn’t what I want to talk about. ‘Hey, I wanted to ask . . . Did you go to Buck’s dinner the other night?’
Reid shakes his head, leaving me simultaneously relieved and disappointed. ‘Nah, I had something else come up. Didn’t go to the party either.’
I blow out a breath. ‘Okay. Got it.’
‘Dev.’ He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes once. ‘I have no interest in going to Argonaut, no matter what Buck offers. I’m happy where I am, and’ – he shifts his gaze to the hallway behind me and then over his shoulder – ‘between you and me, I’m about to sign a new deal with D’Ambrosi. I’m staying for three more years.’
‘No shit,’ I breathe out in shock. ‘That’s amazing, man. Congrats.’
He squeezes my shoulder again, levelling me with a hard stare. ‘You tell a soul, and I’ll make what Jani did look like child’s play.’
‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
We part ways a minute later, my head swimming. At least I don’t have to worry about Reid taking my race seat. Buck will have to go back to the drawing board if he wants to find another American driver to partner Nathaniel, which will buy me a little time. It doesn’t alleviate my fears, but it’ll do for now.
I can take a breath, shallow as it might be.
And I take a deeper one when a soft hand lands on my arm.
‘You ready to head out?’ Willow asks, looking at me with a smile. ‘You were great up there.’
I relax under her touch. This hint of contact is enough to soothe my frenzied thoughts for the time being. ‘Were my answers up to your standards?’
‘They’ll do,’ she teases, but she quickly sobers, her expression softening. ‘I’m really proud of you. This situation has sucked, but you’re facing it now, and you’re going to come out stronger because of it.’
‘And I’ll be less of an asshole to the people who work for me,’ I joke. ‘Trust me. I never want this to happen again.’
‘You’re not an asshole,’ she says, perfectly serious, making something in my chest twist. ‘You’re human. We have our good days and bad. We put up with as much as we can until we can’t take any more, and sometimes we react in less than perfect ways.’ She slides her hand down to mine and grasps my fingers. ‘But you’re learning to do better and you’re moving forward. That’s why I’m proud of you.’
Would she still be proud of me if I dipped my head and kissed her, right here, right now?
Because that’s all I want to do.
I want to taste the words on her lips. I know they’d be sweeter than honey, because everything about her is. That sweetness is sliding over me now, working its way into my veins, reinforcing the truth of what she’s said. Making me want to live up to who she thinks I am.
‘Thank you,’ I force myself to say. There’s so much more I want to tell her. But this isn’t the time or the place for a confession, even if shitty places – like back hallways in sketchy nightclubs and hotel stairwells – are where all our big moments have happened thus far. ‘You coming to the signing?’
I change the subject because if she says another kind word to me, I might lose the last bit of control I’m hanging on to.
She nods. ‘I’ll be out in the crowd taking some videos. Once we’re through with the gratitude tour for the team, I want to focus on the fans. I might try to do some mini interviews with a few of them today.’ She shrugs, but she’s undoubtedly in her element. ‘Who knows. We could end up with something great.’
Just knowing she’ll be there, watching and helping, is enough to make the rest of the tension leave my shoulders. With her faith in me, I can face anything.
‘Whatever you want to do,’ I say, ‘I support it.’
She’s beaming up at me now, and I swear my heart doesn’t know what to do at the sight of it. I’m down so fucking bad.