Now
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Jackson
“So, you want me to focus on my traps more?” I ask Mark, the team trainer.
“Yeah, the upper traps in particular. We’ll work on the exercises later. From the footage, it looks like you’re still struggling to hold your head during high-speed corners.”
“I try, but it’s hard.”
“It’s normal. With the G-force, your head and helmet weigh over seventy pounds at peak lateral load. But we can fix it with enough work.” He looks at his tablet, taps on it to flip to a different slide, and continues. “We’re also reworking your macros. You’re still too heavy, Jax.”
“You make me exercise twenty-five hours a week, Mark. It turns into muscle. Muscle is heavy. I can’t help it.”
“The others are doing just fine.”
“Well, blame it on my genes. I get muscular when I train.”
He quirks an eyebrow up at me. “Are you implying you’re too heavy because you’re Black?”
“I’m saying I’ve always put on muscle easily. It’s not my fault.”
He looks at me, down, then up, trying to think of either an answer or a solution. “Maybe you should stop training your right leg. Keep exercising your braking leg, stop everything for the gas one.”
“No way, man. I’m not walking around with a toothpick leg.”
I realize too late he’s joking and roll my eyes when I notice his small smirk. “You’re a dick.”
“And you’re full of shit, kid. Drop a couple of kilos by next month, or I’ll bring in a nutritionist, and you’ll be eating like a monk. No more home-cooked meals from your wife.”
“Evie is taking the macros thing way too seriously. She weighs everything like it’s a science project.”
He shrugs. “Well, something’s not working, and we need to adjust.”
Mark is still going through the debrief when Justine, the person in charge of the team’s PR, pops into the gym.
“Sorry to interrupt. Jax, I have a hundred posters that need your signature. They have to be shipped as soon as possible. Then, you’re needed in the studio for the Imperion campaign.
They sent a few samples, and marketing wants to do some screen tests before you leave. ”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
“We’re almost done here,” Mark explains.
After a quick nod, Justine exits the room, and we return to our debrief.
It takes about twenty more minutes, and we go through a couple more sets of upper-trap exercises. Then we stretch, and I’m free to go.
I’m heading toward Justine’s office when one of the simulator’s engineers sees me. “Oh, Jackson! I was coming to get you. We have adjusted the settings, and the simulator is ready for you. Are you all warmed up?”
“Uh, yeah. But Justine needs me first, then marketing. I’ll try to be as fast as I can, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll let the team know.”
When I arrive at her office, Justine is on the phone with someone. Not interrupting her conversation, she points at the coffee table where a marker and a pile of posters await. It’s the one with a photo of my teammate and me. When I come closer, I see he’s already signed his side.
I sit down on the sofa, grab the Sharpie, and get to work. I’ve barely done ten of them when my phone rings. I check and see it’s my mom. I haven’t talked to her in a while, so I take the call and tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear as I keep signing.
“Hey, Mom,” I greet her.
“Hey, sweetie! How are you doing?”
“Good. Busy, but good. What about you and Dad?”
“We’re good! We’ve been having problems with the A/C, so the house is like a boiler. But it’s alright, it’s been windy.”
“I’ll send someone to fix it.”
“You don’t have to! I didn’t tell you for that.”
“It’s not a problem, Mom. I can pay for it.”
“Okay, thank you, sweetie. How is Evie?”
“She’s fine. I haven’t seen her since I got back from Silverstone,” I explain, still signing posters.
“Really?”
“Yeah, they wanted me at the team facility right away. I’m seeing her tonight, though.”
“Tell her I say hi!”
“Will do.”
“Fuck,” I mumble when I mess up my signature.
“Did I call you at a bad time?”
“There’s never really a good time, Mom.”
Because I’ve just exercised it too hard, my neck starts cramping in that position. That’s why when she offers to call me back at a better time, I agree.
I’m not done yet when someone from marketing comes to fetch me. “Give me a minute,” I say.
Instead of going away, the assistant stays right there, silently pressuring me to go faster. After the weekend I’ve had, what I need is a day off, not all this shit.
As soon as I’m done, I motion to Justine, who’s still on the phone, to let her know. She gives me a thumbs-up, and I stand up to follow the marketing assistant.
In the hallway, my phone dings. I check it mindlessly and see I’ve gotten two pictures from Evie. They’re screenshots of armchairs from an online furniture store. Both are brick-colored, but one looks a little more vintage, the other modern.
Before I can ask her what it’s about, we arrive at the marketing studio. It looks like they’re all waiting for me, with an official from Imperion who’s next to a reinforced briefcase. “Sorry, I came as soon as I could,” I say once I’m with them.
We get to work right away, and I slip on a black dress shirt despite still being sweaty from my training.
This is for tests; they don’t need me at my best. The Imperion guy opens the case, and they slip some of the jewelry that’s in it on me.
Two necklaces, a chain bracelet, rings, and they even take out my earrings to replace them with theirs.
We’re about to take some pictures when my phone rings. I’m too far from it to check, but someone does for me and lets me know it’s Evie. I’ll call her back later.
It takes about ten minutes to take test pictures, find the right poses, fine-tune the lighting … Imperion wants me with my car, which is why we’re doing it in the Altron facility.
My phone rings again when we’re near the end, but I don’t have time to take it. I can feel myself cool down, and I don’t want to have to warm up again before getting in the simulator.
It’s not as straining as the real thing, but I still need to brake and shit.
I’m arriving at the simulator when Evie calls once more. I’m considering taking it when Justine grabs my attention. “Jackson, I forgot, but I also need your signature on some Altron caps and T-shirts.”
“After the simulator.”
“Okay, I’ll prepare everything.”
The phone goes silent before I can take it. So, I enter the simulation room and walk to the locker to put on the light suit I wear for this. Because it’s for visibility testing, I have to wear the helmet too.
I’m about to put it on when Evie calls for a fourth time. Now, I’m getting a little worried. She wouldn’t try that hard to reach me if it weren’t important. Though it might be about those armchairs … With a sigh, I take it.
“I’ll call you back when I can,” I tell her.
“Just real quick! I sent you two pictures. Can you—”
“Yeah, I saw.”
“Which one do you prefer?”
“I don’t know, they both look good to me.”
The engineers all look at me, waiting for me to finish and get into position.
“It’s for the bedroom,” she continues. “In the corner by the window. I think the first one would look—”
“Buy the one you prefer. I don’t care. It’s not like I’m home enough to even notice.” I hang up and drop the phone in the locker before putting on the helmet.
I’m strapped into the simulator by the time I realize what I just did. Fuck … I can’t remember ever hanging up on her like that. Today has been so fucking long. The past five days, actually. I’ve wanted to rebuff at least a dozen people. Five today alone. And all that somehow had to fall on her.
The interaction sits so wrong in my head that I’m no good in the simulator. I’m so out of it I can’t race for shit. When I crash a third time, I pull the helmet off and ask, “Can someone get me my phone from the locker?”
It’s in my hand in seconds, and I immediately dial Evie. She doesn’t pick up right away, and I worry I’ve offended her too much. When she does, at the last moment, I can’t contain a reassured breath.
“Princess, I’m so sorry,” I quickly say.
“No, it’s me. I’m sorry I bothered you with it. I know your post-race days are the worst.”
Her voice is tight, and something tells me she was crying when I called back. My chest tightens at the thought. “Evie, I … I’m the one who messed up. I’m so focused on getting through today so I can come home, I lost sight of what really matters.”
She lets out a small, shy laugh. “It’s just armchairs.”
“No, it’s you. You matter. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. And I shouldn’t have hung up like that.”
Everyone in the room is listening, but I don’t give a damn. I fix my messes, and I’m not ashamed of it.
“I think it was an excuse,” she sheepishly confesses. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
My sweet girl …
“Okay, I have about two hours left in the simulator.” The chief of logistics signals me and then raises three fingers. “Three hours,” I correct myself. “Then PR needs me. But after that, I’m coming home, and I’ll tell you all about my weekend. How does that sound, princess?”
I can hear her smile when she says, “It sounds great, Jax. I’ll work on dinner. Any requests?”
“Ugh, just two chicken breasts, steamed broccoli, and maybe two spoonfuls of rice.”
“Oof … Mark is on your case again, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you when I get home.”
“Okay. I love you, Hot Wheels.”
“I love you, princess. See you soon. Oh, and Evie?”
“Yes?”
“I really like the armchair that looks more vintage. I think it’d look great with the rug you got for the bedroom.”
“Okay, I’ll get that one. Thank you, Jax. I love you.”
“I love you.”
I let her hang up first, then return the phone to the person who gave it to me. Once the helmet is back on, I grab the wheel.
“I’m ready now. Run it again.”
In my line of work, I’m used to being thrown into all sorts of events and situations. I’ve had private dinners with royalty, attended galas alongside billionaires, been to parties reserved for the elites of this world … I’ve seen and done it all, several times over.