TWELVE
EMIKA AND I GET Monday off work, so we don’t see the rest of the team’s reaction to our success until Tuesday, but the moment we set foot back in HQ it’s obvious the whole mood at Rask Racing has shifted.
The atmosphere in the factory is buoyant and everyone is smiling and positive, more upbeat than I’ve ever seen them before.
Those sixteen points make all the difference and we get to bask in the reflected glory.
Part of me feels guilty about all the attention.
Even though my almost-fainting incident wasn’t my fault, I still feel like I let the team down.
If it hadn’t been for Leif, I would probably have collapsed live on television.
It could have made headlines – Jasper Ramirez might have seen!
Thankfully, after an epic sleep yesterday, I feel almost back to normal again.
‘Look at this.’ Vienna comes out of her office around midday, brandishing a newspaper. ‘“Rask in Return to Form”!’
‘Really?’ I leap up from my chair as she spreads it out over Emika’s desk. The fact that we’re still making headlines two days after the race is definitely a good sign.
‘“After a rocky start to the season, it seems like things are finally turning round for the beleaguered F1 team. With a few new upgrades, Rask is showing detractors how well the company can manage without Philip Sawyer.”’ She beams triumphantly. ‘Good job, everyone.’
‘We should follow it up,’ I say. ‘I’ll call their sports editor.’
‘Print media?’ Charlotte looks appalled.
‘Yes, print publicity. Some of us Generation Xers still use it.’ Vienna lifts her eyes to the ceiling.
‘But there are stories like this online too. Our socials have got more interaction in the past two days than they have all season. It proves our strategy is working. People are starting to support us again.’ She darts back into her office and then re-emerges with a large plate of cupcakes, decorated with red, blue and yellow-striped icing.
‘That’s why I got catering to bake these –’
‘Ooh!’ Emika jumps up enthusiastically.
‘They’re giving them out in the canteen so I swiped a few for us.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I’m about to take a bite when I see Charlotte’s crestfallen expression.
‘Nothing. It’s just … my wedding dress.’
‘You’re not getting married until January.’ Emika thrusts a cupcake at her. ‘Come on, it’s a celebration. One little cake isn’t going to burst any stitches.’
‘OK, just one.’ Charlotte take a bite and then closes her eyes with a groan. ‘I’ve missed cake so much.’
‘What about you?’ Vienna pushes the plate towards Yuto.
‘I can’t. I’m still scared of food.’ He glances at her face and changes his mind. ‘But maybe I’ll make an exception.’
‘Good. By the way, I have a meeting with that frozen yogurt company at one.’ Vienna turns to me. ‘I want you there too.’
‘Why would a frozen yogurt company want to sponsor an F1 team?’ Charlotte mumbles through a mouthful of cake.
‘It’s a Swedish company. Thanks to Leif, we’re very popular in Scandinavia now.’
‘Fingers crossed it goes well.’ Emika reaches for another cupcake. ‘But personally I’d rather stick with these.’
‘And I have more good news.’ Vienna pauses for effect.
‘I know this first half of the season has been exhausting, but we only have three more races until the summer break. That’s just over a month away.
Obviously, we’re not prohibited from working, like the factory, but Bastian promises you’ll all get a few days off.
I’ll cover the office, but the rest of you deserve a decent rest.’
‘This day gets better and better.’ Emika grins at Charlotte.
‘I don’t mind covering the office too,’ I say as Vienna props herself on the edge of my desk. ‘Since I only started last month.’
‘You’ve still made a big difference. You’re an asset to the team.’ She smiles. ‘I admit, when Leif first suggested you for the job I was sceptical, but he was right.’
I almost spit out my mouthful of cake. ‘It was Leif who gave you my name?’
‘Shit.’ She scrunches her face up. ‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve no idea. He just said not to tell you.’ She shrugs. ‘Though what does it matter really? You’re happy, I’m happy, Leif is probably happy. I mean, who can tell most of the time?’
‘I don’t understand …’ My mind is whirling as I try to process.
I’ve been so busy I completely forgot to ask Gio if he was the one who recommended me for the job.
But if it was Leif, he must have done it right after our first meeting in Monaco, which makes zero sense.
We barely spoke that night. He acted like he thought I shouldn’t be there. I thought he was an asshole!
‘OK, I need a quick chat with Bastian before our meeting.’ Vienna slides back off my desk. ‘I’ll see you in the conference room in half an hour?’
‘Right. See you there.’ I put the rest of my cupcake down and reach for my phone.
I still have my first-day video on it, as well as my first attempt to film my ‘accidental’ meeting with Leif, the one where he smiled and I forgot my line.
Somehow I never got round to deleting it …
I search for it now and watch again. And again, and then one more time because maybe if I look at Leif for long enough I’ll figure out what’s going on.
First, it turns out he doesn’t hate me. And now I find out he actually got me this job that I love.
Why? And should I be grateful or just really, really confused?
Because right now I’m both.
BY THE TIME I leave work it’s almost 7 p.m., but as afternoons go this one has been hugely productive.
Not only does Rask have a new Swedish sponsor, but their investment is bigger than we anticipated.
Even better, they want to capitalize on our recent success by launching an advertising campaign as soon as possible.
I head across the car park, swinging my bag with a feeling of satisfaction.
Even though it’s evening, the air is still warm – though thankfully not as hot as Hungary – the birds are singing and all is well with the world.
All except … I drop my bag and stare at my car in horror.
My rear left tyre is flatter than a pancake.
I close my eyes, tip my head back and take a moment to appreciate the irony.
Just when my spirits are inflated, my tyre decides to do the opposite.
And here I am, standing outside a building packed full of tyres and tools, none of which are of any use to me because everyone has gone home, meaning my options are to either call a recovery company – an expense I really don’t need – or change the tyre myself.
I know how to do it – my parents taught me when I first learned to drive.
Only ideally I’d be wearing old jeans and a ripped T-shirt instead of a black fitted Khaite dress that I bought on Vinted.
Fuck .
I kick my heels off and change into the ballet flats I use for driving, do a quick google to refresh my memory and then crouch down to loosen and remove the wheel nuts.
Next, I heave the spare tyre out of the boot.
It’s heavier than I expected, especially since I have to hold it away from my body, straining my biceps in a desperate and probably futile attempt to avoid getting dirt on my dress.
As soon as I’m able, I drop the tyre on to the ground, then slide the jack under the car, wind it up and sit back on my haunches to admire my handiwork.
So far, so good. Now if I can just slide the flat tyre off without losing my balance …
‘Ava?’
I jerk my head up to find Leif staring down at me, one forearm resting on the open window of his red-and-white sports car. I was concentrating so hard I didn’t even hear him pull up.
‘Need a hand?’ He nods towards my flat tyre.
I open my mouth and then close it again.
Yes , I want to say. Yes, I could do with several hands .
But I’m an independent woman and I can change my own tyre.
It doesn’t help that, after Vienna’s slip-up this afternoon, seeing him again so unexpectedly is like a physical shock.
I don’t know how to react. I haven’t had enough time to process.
‘No, I’m almost done.’ I shake my head, feeling a flush of heat spreading up my neck. ‘Thanks anyway.’
‘OK.’ He stares at me for a few more seconds before shrugging his shoulders and driving on.
What? I stare after him. As much as I appreciate him respecting me as an independent woman, he could have tried a little harder to persuade me!
I turn my attention back to my car, muttering under my breath as I grab the edge of the tyre.
Suddenly I don’t feel any kind of gratitude towards Leif Olsen.
So what if he got me a job? Passing a name on is easy.
Low effort. Not like helping somebody to change their tyre.
That takes a certain kind of person. A special person, a truly ‘adorable’ person, which, despite their reputation, is clearly not …
‘Hey.’
‘What the –’ I fall backwards, landing on my bum with a yelp, as a pair of feet appears at the edge of my vision.
‘Sorry.’ Leif holds a hand out. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘I thought you –’
‘Drove off and left you?’ He hoists me back to my feet. ‘Ava, even if you don’t want me to help, I’m not just going to abandon you. I needed to park, that’s all. I can wait in my car if it makes you feel more comfortable, but I’m honestly happy to help otherwise.’
‘Oh.’ I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how confusing that horse is, especially when his fingers are still wrapped around mine, making my pulse flutter. ‘I actually could use some help. I don’t want to ruin my dress.’
‘It’s a nice dress.’ His gaze dips to my waist before he releases my hand and crouches down beside the car. ‘I’ve got this.’
‘Thanks.’ I watch as he removes the old tyre and slots on the emergency one.
He’s wearing light wash jeans and a grey T-shirt and looks a whole lot fresher than he did the last time I saw him after the Hungarian Grand Prix.
I should probably do something more constructive, but I’m too distracted by the way his muscles are bunching under his sleeves.
‘You’re working late,’ he says conversationally as he tightens the wheel nuts.
‘Mmm? Oh, I had paperwork to do. We have a new sponsor.’
‘I heard. Good job.’
‘It was mostly Vienna.’ I chew the inside of my cheek. ‘What about you? Why haven’t you gone home yet?’
‘I had a few things to discuss with Bastian. There you go.’ He stands up and brushes his hands together. ‘That’ll do for tonight, but you shouldn’t drive far on a temporary tyre and no faster than fifty.’
‘I’ll take it straight to a garage in the morning,’ I say.
‘No, wait. I have another meeting first thing. Shit.’ I press a hand to my forehead, thinking through the timings.
There’s no way I’ll make it to work on time if I have to find a garage as well.
I’ll just have to leave my car for another day and figure out some other method of getting here tomorrow.
Maybe I can ask Dan for a favour, or I could call Yuto?
He lives in Cambridge, too … ‘Never mind. I’ll work something out. ’
‘No need. I have a friend who owns a garage. I’m sure we can arrange something.’ Leif pulls his phone out of his back pocket and quirks an eyebrow at me. ‘If that’s OK with you?’
‘Well …’ I think about refusing, but, honestly, the sooner I can get my car fixed, the better. ‘If you wouldn’t mind? If I could drop it off really early that would be perfect.’
‘I’ll find out.’
Two minutes later, he wanders back to me, tucking his phone away again. ‘All sorted. We can go straight there.’
‘Now?’ I check my watch. It’s 7.30 already.
‘He’s a good friend.’ He strides off towards his car. ‘Follow me.’
‘Wait!’ I call after him. ‘You can just give me the address. There’s no need for you to come too. You’ve done enough …’ I stop talking as he closes his car door.
I guess this means we’re going together.