Chapter 9
NINE
By far, the meet and greets are my least favorite part of this mission, not because I don’t enjoy talking to people or because it’s awkward, which it is, but because it puts a spotlight on just how much I don’t fit in here.
While Rome, Tyler, and the other drivers who have been here for a while have long lines of excited fans, I usually have just a handful, mostly people who feel bad that my line is empty or don’t want to wait in a longer line.
It doesn’t help that this time, I’m stationed next to Rome, so not only do I get to stand there awkwardly, but I also get to watch women fawn over him incessantly. Ten minutes in, I’m checking my phone for the time and groaning at the realization that we have almost an hour left.
“Little Lanny,” an all-too-familiar voice calls, breaking through my irritation. My head snaps up before I gasp and run over to the two men standing nearby, matching wide grins on their faces.
“Oh, my god! What are you guys doing here?” I ask my brothers, in awe of seeing them here. I’ve been bopping around assignments, and both of them work in security, so we don’t cross paths too often.
“Are you kidding me? Did you think you could start racing monster trucks and we wouldn’t come see?” my oldest brother, Drew, asks.
“Paid an assload just to meet our own sister, so the show better be worth it,” Archer says. I roll my eyes and shake my head, but still pull my brother in for a hug.
“If you’d called me, I would have gotten you tickets,” I say.
“Much more fun this way. Plus, then we get to see you be a girl and get all sappy over us.” Unfortunately, he’s right: I am getting teary-eyed at this unexpected visit.
I’ve had such confusing emotions the past few weeks here, a mix of nostalgia and homesickness I didn’t expect when slipping into this persona, and it’s made me strangely miss my brothers.
We spend the next few minutes chatting excitedly. I fill them in on everything that’s happened in the past few weeks, telling them what I can and avoiding what I can’t, since they don’t know about the Mavens.
As we’re talking, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a woman squatting beside a little girl not far from us and whispering, “Go! Go, you’ll be fine!
” My attention snaps to her, and I give the small girl a wide, genuine grin, which seems to push her to step away from her mom and toward me.
Her hands are near her face, nervously clutching a small, worn stuffed unicorn.
“Hey, what’s your name?” I ask, smiling down at the girl, probably six years old. Her blonde hair is in pigtails, and she’s smiling up at me despite her nervousness.
“Ella,” she says.
“Hey, Ella. How are you? Are you excited for the show?” She nods, then stands straight, pointing at me.
“You’re my favorite driver ever. And not just because you drive a unicorn, which is super cool, but because you’re the coolest girl ever. I want to be you when I grow up,” she says, the words smushing together as she gets more excited.
“I bet you’ll be even better than me when you grow up.”
“I just want to be better than my brothers,” she says, and I let out a loud laugh before giving her a high five.
“Heck yeah, girlfriend. These are my brothers, and my goal was always to beat them.” Looking over at her mom, who is taking pictures on a phone, I ask, “Want to take a picture together?” Ella nods, and her mom is grinning uncontrollably as she takes pictures.
I have my woefully underused attendant take a shot with the mom in the picture, too.
“You totally made her day,” the mom says afterward. “Her brothers are big fans of Monster Smash, and she didn’t want to go until I showed her your truck. You’ve been her obsession ever since. I think she knows more about trucks now than her brothers do.”
“Is that right?” I ask the adorable girl. She nods, the earlier nervousness nowhere to be found.
“Yup. I keep telling my brothers that you’re going to beat everyone, but they don’t believe me. They don’t think girls can beat boys.” I roll my eyes exaggeratedly and groan, and she giggles at me, entertained by my dramatics.
“Well, we’ll just have to prove them wrong, won’t we?”
“You’re going to win the nationals. I just know it.”
“Good luck with that,” Archer says, and I glare at him.
“Thanks for the confidence boost, jerk,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.
“Oh, come on, you can’t match up a real driver like Rome DeLuca.” Frustration mixed with hurt in my gut, knowing even my brothers, who watched me race and win championships most of my childhood, don’t seem to think I belong here. But before I can counter, a new voice enters the fray.
“Are you talking about me again, Heartbreaker?” Roman asks, walking over with that crooked, cocky grin. I roll my eyes, already feeling that strange combination of excitement and irritation with his nearness, but when I turn to Archer, I see his eyes are wide, his jaw dropped open.
“Oh, my god. Rome DeLuca! Man, it’s an honor. I was in the stands when you won the Cup last year. I still can’t believe they suspended you.”
“Happens,” Rome says with a non-committal shrug, but his eyes are locked on me, an eyebrow lifted. “Real driver?”
I open my mouth to explain, but Archer beats me to it.
“I was just telling Lana the chance of her winning the national title when there’s a real driver here is slim to none.” Rome’s face screws up in confusion.
“Everyone here is a real driver.” Archer rolls his eyes and throws a hand in Rome’s direction.
“Oh, yeah, I just mean, you know. Lana’s over here driving a unicorn monster truck. You’re—”
“I’m racing in a giant sheep. And?” Seth and Drew look to one another, confused, and admittedly, that same confusion rings in my own chest. I step in to alleviate the unnecessary awkwardness.
“No, I know what they’re saying. You’re a real racer. Like, you’ve done Indy and have won the championship here before. I’m just having fun,” I say, trying to stick up for my brothers and smooth things out.
“What are you doing?” he asks, looking to me with genuine confusion. “Weren’t you the one putting Jordan in his place for saying something like that?”
“That was different—” I start, uncomfortable with attention on me like this.
Something crosses Rome’s face, the flash of disappointment mixed with something that can’t be protectiveness, but looks like it all the same, before his hand moves to my shoulder, pulling me into his side and directing his glare to my brothers.
“You’ve never seen her on the track. She’s amazing.” My heart flutters, fills, and overflows with his words. “Give her a couple more weekends, and she’ll be giving all of us a run for our money.”
“Well, uh,” Archer starts, clearly a mix of embarrassed and starstruck. “Well, of course. She’s our sister. She’s the most badass woman we know.”
“Person,” Rome corrects, and despite everything, warmth moves through me, settling in my bones and warming my belly.
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s the most badass person you know.” Everyone stares at Rome, including myself, and I’m even more confused when I see his face is completely sincere.
“Now, it looks like she’s starting to get a line, and Courtney might blow a gasket if I don’t get back to her.
” I roll my eyes at his dramatics, but step away when he lets me go.
“What’s that look for?” Rome asks, entertained.
“You don’t have to make me feel better. I don’t have a line,” I mutter under my breath, but he tips his head and lifts one eyebrow. Then he puts his hand on my shoulders and turns me, dipping until his mouth is next to my ear.
“You sure about that?” he asks, voice low. The heat of his proximity slides through me, muddying my thoughts, but it’s quickly whisked away by shock as I see he’s not wrong.
There is now a line of four small groups waiting to meet me.
“That’s for me?” I ask, voice still quiet as I look over my shoulder at him. His face is soft, a smile on his lips.
“Sure is. You’re making waves, heartbreaker,” he says.
I stare at him for a moment, and he returns it before he shakes his head and steps back.
“All right, well, I’ve got to get back to my adoring fans.
See you later, Lana. Nice meeting you guys,” he says to my brothers before winking at me.
In a moment, that soft, protective look is gone, the playboy mask slipping back into place, but I just got confirmation that what he shows everyone is just that: a mask.
And I’m not completely sure what to do with that information.
Rome spends the rest of the meet and greet closer to me than before, his line inevitably much longer than mine, but after Ella and her mom, I continue to have a small line of my own.
Women and girls line up to take photos with me and my truck, telling me how fun it looks and how excited they are that a woman is in the lineup.
Even more so with his proximity, it’s impossible to ignore the way Rome watches me, even as women drape themselves over him for photos, getting so close it’s nearly inappropriate.
When the pre-show event winds down, we head inside for a short break before the show starts. I’m walking down the main hallway, keeping an eye out for Demi, when Courtney stops me.
“Hey, thank god. I was looking for you,” Courtney says, looking harried as always. “There’s a reporter who wants to talk to you.”
“Me?” I ask, confused, and looking around. Rome is walking past, headed for the men’s locker room, but pauses as Courtney and I talk.
“Yes, you,” she says, seemingly irritated that she has to clarify.
“A reporter saw your interaction with the little girl and wanted to ask you some questions about how you got into the sport and how you feel about being the only woman here, that kind of thing. Are you free after the race?” I bite my lip nervously.
Press isn’t a part of the plan. Sure, I’ve been posting on social media as part of the regular driver contract and going to the mandated events, but this is putting a direct spotlight on me.
“That’s amazing,” Rome says before I can decline, crossing his arms on his chest. “You’re the perfect person to talk to about that.
You’re here to bring in more of a female demographic, right?
” If I didn’t know any better, the words would sound like a challenge, as if he didn’t completely believe my cover story.
My stomach sours, and I realize I can’t exactly say no without raising suspicion. Instead, I shrug and nod.
“Okay, yeah,” I acquiesce, and Courtney sighs with relief.
“Amazing. There’s no press conference today, so just find me after you clean up, and I’ll bring you to her.
Thanks for this, Lana.” Then she’s off as quickly as she came, her out-of-place flowered dress flowing behind her as I stand there a bit in awe.
I turn to Rome, who is watching me with a wide grin.
“Am I going to regret this?” I ask, a bit exasperated.
“Probably,” he says. “But it’s good. You could really be a role model for girls.”
“I don’t know if that’s really a necessity,” I say with a laugh, trying to brush it off, but his expression is sincere and knowing, no humor at all.
“I do. Wouldn’t you have loved having a strong woman to look up to when you were that little girl’s age?
” I would have, but I don’t know how to tell him I’m not that person without blowing my cover.
Thankfully, before I have to say anything else, one of the crew approaches and tips his head toward the arena.
“They’re looking for you guys out there.”
“On our way,” Rome says, and the man nods before jogging off.
“I should get going before Demi comes looking for me,” I say.
“Good luck out there today.” He smiles at me, something soft and genuine, reminiscent of the look I saw on his face at the meet and greet.
It settles in my belly, making a home where it absolutely should not be welcome, but I don’t have the heart to push it away.
Unfortunately, that look is nothing compared to his next words.
“You too, heartbreaker. Show ‘em not to underestimate a girl, okay?” he says. I know he’s not talking about the crowd but my brothers, and that settles in my gut too, before he gives me a wink and heads off.
Later, when I snag first place in the big air section of the race for the first time, I feel like I did just that, proving I deserve to be here and that I shouldn’t be overlooked because of my gender.
But what fills my stomach with those pesky butterflies is looking across the arena and locking eyes with Rome.
He’s standing by his truck directly across from mine, his arms raised as he cheers for me.
Even though I can’t see it, not even when one of the cameras zooms in to grab his reaction and put it on the big screen, I somehow know he’s grinning wide at me.