Chapter 5
THE STARTING GRID
Reese returned to the academy hotel after her postrace responsibilities were at long last behind her. She’d participated in the debriefs, the weigh-ins, the rounds of press, sponsorship duties, fan interaction, and even a session with Sloane Foster, who had a lot of opinions to impart, apparently.
Her absolutely everything ached. The day had been a whirlwind of smiling, laughing, and playing the part of the woman they all wanted her to be.
But the moment that had resonated with her beyond all others was the question Sloane had raised about her lack of dependability.
She sighed, the implications still jabbing at her.
It wasn’t fucking true. She showed up and did her absolute best during every moment on the circuit.
“There you are.” Marissa Giovani poked her head around the corner just as Reese located her key card. She was apparently in the room next to Reese’s.
“Yeah. Hey,” Reese said and tried not to wince. After all, Marissa would have won the race that day if Reese hadn’t attempted that messy overtake. “Awesome driving today. I’m sorry I took us both out.”
“Luckily, I excel at forgiving and forgetting. Unless you plan to make a habit out of ending my races early.” She’d said it with a playful smile and a hand on her hip. Marissa had these impressive long, dark curls that she’d tossed to the side like a pro.
“I don’t. And thanks for being cool about it. I think the wall I smashed into was less forgiving.”
“And probably your team’s mechanics.”
She thought of the car that they were likely still working on. “Fuck. They probably hate me.”
“I truly doubt it. Everyone seems to love you, which is why I’m here.”
She leaned her shoulder against the door and grinned. “Say more.”
“Idea. Want to come over so we can like you, too?” Marissa seemed laid-back and fun. She’d heard a lot about her, but they’d never had more than a quick exchange in the past. “Oh, fair warning. A couple of the other drivers swung by for a bit.”
Reese paused because the offer was tempting.
The day had taken its toll on her. Losing the race, being beaten up by the press, the dreaded meeting with Sloane Foster, and then smiling the rest of the day for her sponsor obligations that had included two photo shoots and an autograph line that went on and on.
She was honestly sick of herself, and her smile muscles ached.
At the same time, she wanted the chance to get to know the others, and her FOMO wouldn’t allow her to drop into bed.
“Maybe just for a little bit. I may crash soon.”
“We all will. The feature race is tomorrow, and I don’t take corners the same without sleep.”
“Then maybe we should stay up after all,” Reese said with a laugh.
But the reminder of the race, a clean slate, had perked Reese up.
A longer race, more points on the line, and a chance to redeem herself in front of Sloane Foster.
Correction, the racing world in its entirety.
She didn’t need to single anyone out. Sloane was not in her head.
“Looking forward to it. I could use a redemption arc.” She followed Marissa into the room next door while already mentally prepping for the next day.
She’d get to the paddock early and go through her reaction drills, study her map, and grab a power smoothie.
Everything a successful driver should do to show up in the best shape.
Then she’d win the whole thing and take the podium in victory.
Glorious. The applause would be thunderous.
She’d kiss babies. Crowd surf. She might even give Sloane a nod in thanks for the pressure she’d applied.
Record scratch. So, okay, maybe she was in Reese’s head.
“Well, well,” Delaney said, standing as Reese arrived in Marissa’s living room.
“We were wondering where you got dragged off to.” She had her chestnut hair back in a ponytail, showing off the very subtle blond streaking, and wore yoga pants and a blue, extra-soft-looking sweatshirt with the phrase What? in the center. Textbook Delaney.
Reese grinned back, and it hurt. “Ow. Dammit. I have to stop smiling. Do not let me smile.” She touched her mouth. “My muscles are killing me. It was an event for Apex.” She turned to Marissa. “They do the racing apparel with the triangle logo on them.”
“Right, right. They have a huge following.”
“Only you would be in pain from oversmiling,” Delaney said with a laugh. “Does your ass hurt too from all the kissing?”
“What can I say? Part of my contract.”
Delaney shook her head. “I’m lucky if I can sell my own merch on my website one T-shirt at a time, and you’re repping other people’s as well.”
Reese shrugged. “Yeah, well, the harsh reality is it’s about the only way I can afford to be here. And there are worse ways to make money.”
She turned to see one other driver on the sofa, smiling along.
She didn’t mean to ignore her. Cassidy Simms. She was new to the scene, a relative unknown in single-seat racing.
She’d heard through the rumor mill that Veronica scouted from rally car racing.
“Hey. We haven’t officially met. I’m Reese Maddox. ”
“Yes, I definitely know who you are.” The blush hit Cassidy’s cheeks.
“Sorry. Embarrassing, but I was a fan before I ever heard of the academy. I hope that’s not weird.
I tend to get enthusiastic about things and then, apparently, announce that enthusiasm when I meet the person.
So here we are.” A small pause. “Sorry if I’m smiling too much. My muscles don’t hurt.”
“Not at all,” Reese said. “It’s cool of you to say so.”
“I’m Cassidy, which, God, is information I should have led with.
I’ll work on thought organization for our future interactions.
” She offered her hand, and Reese stood and took it.
Cassidy had her blond hair in a ponytail and friendly blue eyes.
Good vibes already. She seemed happy, eager even, and it was contagious.
Reese found herself relaxing in her midst, fatigue shoved to the side.
“How was your first race?” Cassidy had finished fourteenth of twenty, if Reese remembered correctly. Not awful for a first time driving a car that must have been very new to her.
“I was a fish out of water, figuring it out as I went, but loving every second of it.” A very positive take.
“Embrace that.” Delaney turned to Cassidy. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
“About three inches from the road.” Cassidy laughed. “I’m still getting used to how low you all sit. It might take me a couple more races to adjust to that alone.”
“Your ass will definitely get a workout,” Marissa said without blinking. Her dry delivery was entirely unexpected. Reese swiveled to Delaney with wide, appreciative eyes. This one might be more fun than had been advertised. “Drink anyone?”
“I’ll take a beer. Yeah,” Reese said, spotting the array of options on the small bar that resembled the bow of a ship.
“Coming your way.”
As Reese caught the can Marissa tossed to her, she noticed that both Delaney and Marissa were drinking diet soda. Cassidy had a bottle of water at her feet. “Fuck. I’m drinking alone? I’m that girl?”
“Don’t sweat it. I try to limit my intake before a race,” Delaney said. “It sucks, but I want to be as clear as possible.”
“My trainer made me promise,” Marissa said. “After tomorrow’s race, though? All the walls come tumbling down. Oh, and my birthday. There will be a glass of wine, race or not.”
Reese turned to Cassidy.
“Oh, I’m new here,” she said with a shrug. “I do what they do.”
“No, I get it.” She glanced at the Tecate she’d already opened. “And I probably shouldn’t be partaking either.”
“Everyone’s different,” Delaney said. “Do what works for you.”
Reese allowed herself a few sips as the others chatted about the strong crowd turnout for their sprint race and the specific technique Marissa employed to achieve her high velocity champagne spray on the podium after winning.
Reese laughed along, slightly on edge because it had been a while since she’d found herself on top of one of those things, and the clock was ticking.
Why did it feel like she had so much to lose?
Because she did. She ran a finger around the iced rim of her beer.
If she didn’t start winning, not only would Ravensport likely move on to another driver, but her sponsorships would shrivel up, and her endorsement deals would gradually fade into the distance.
When she came back into the fold of the conversation, she realized the others were talking about Sloane.
“How is she so incredibly good at this, though?” Marissa asked. “She saw patterns in my driving after one race and a few films that I’d never even considered, nor had my team. And she was right.”
Delaney leaned forward from her blue leather club chair with the pelican throw pillow. “I left that meeting more inspired to work hard than probably any other conversation in my career. Veronica was a genius to bring her on.”
“Confession time. I had a poster of Sloane Foster in her race suit on my wall when I was sixteen,” Cassidy said.
“I skipped high school parties to watch her race. She was just so composed. Even when things went wrong, she had this calm, almost surgical focus. I used to think, ‘If I can be even a fraction of that one day, I’ll have made it.’”
Marissa raised a sculpted eyebrow. “And now you’ve met her. Was it everything you dreamed?”
Cassidy laughed and covered her face. “No. It was terrifying. She’s amazing, but her eyes? First of all, gorgeous. It hurts to look at her. Second, it’s like she’s seeing right through you. I kept waiting for her to tell me to go home. I would have.”
“She doesn’t mince words,” Delaney agreed. “But she’s the real deal. I think that’s why she resonates with us. She’s not pretending to be anyone else.”