Chapter 3 #2
“Get me the fuck out of here,” I grumble as I click the button for my Porsche 718 Cayman GT4 RS, in team colours, of course. Grey, black spoiler, and side panels with fluorescent yellow wheel trims.
Tossing my bag on the front seat, I start the engine and smile at the way it roars beneath me. Pushing it into drive, I kick it down the long and winding driveway of where the home of Saint Onyx racing sits behind me and forget it exists for just a moment.
Boarding the plane, I greet the air hostess, and I am definitely not feeling as tense as yesterday. Thalia came over and relieved that stress. I never realised how much I needed it.
I make my way over to my seat, number seven and the air hostess passes me a glass of cold champagne just as I strap myself in.
I’m not one of these people that will unbuckle myself as soon as the plane is in the air.
I thank her and take a sip, my shoulders relaxing slightly as the pilot comes on and tells us how long our flight time is and what to expect from the weather when we land.
I place my glass on my table and reach for my laptop and settle down for the flight. Whilst we’re thirty thousand feet in the air, I hadn’t realised just how much I needed this break.
Stepping off the plane, the warm air hits me and I know I am home. It feels like a hot minute since I have been back here, but finally, my feet are on the ground, and I already don’t want to go back.
The driver meets me on the tarmac, and I slip into the back of the car.
The evening is setting in and as much as I want to go straight to my apartment, I need to eat something.
I ask the driver to take me to La M?me. Scrolling through my phone, I reply to a couple of pressing emails and then go through the notes from briefing.
I’m annoyed to read that Royce left a little after I did.
So disrespectful. Shaking my head, I clock the time before clicking on his name.
He answers on the sixth ring.
“Dad.”
“Royce.” My tone is steady. “I don’t appreciate reading that you ducked out of briefing.”
“Why did I have to be there?”
“Because it’s part of the job. You can’t just skip out when you feel like it, it doesn’t work like that.” I scrub my face.
“I thought racing for my dad’s team would have perks,” he snarls, and I hear the scoff of a laugh that catches at the back of his throat.
“Doesn’t work that way, Royce, and you know it. You want to race in the big league, prove that you deserve to be there before I drop you from your seat,” I threaten him and I find myself running my finger on the inside of my shirt collar, trying to loosen it.
“You wouldn’t.” I don’t miss the way his voice trembles.
“Try me,” I grit out before I cut the phone off and toss it across the back of the car.
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and remember that I am thousands of miles away and that I am taking this week off.
Sort of.
Rage still simmers beneath the surface, and I can’t stand his self-entitlement. He is a good driver, and he deserves to be world champion, but with that pig-headed attitude, he won’t get it. He is arrogant and spoiled and thinks his shit won’t stink.
“Sir,” the driver says, pulling me from my head as he slows outside the restaurant.
“Thank you.” My voice is quiet as I open the door and step out onto the pavement.
“Could you take my bags to the apartment? Just leave them with the concierge.” I give him a smile, and he confirms with a nod before pulling out onto the evening traffic.
I just stand for a moment before looking at the restaurant.
Stepping up to the entrance, I take a quick glance over my shoulder at the marina that is in the distance and smile. I needed to make sure I headed over there to check on Billy and the yacht.
The ma?tre de sees me before I see him and he meets me at the entrance.
“Monsieur Lexington.” His smile is wide as he claps his hand into mine, shaking it firmly.
“Good to see you.” I give him a chin lift and a wink as he scoops a menu up and leads me to my favourite seat in the restaurant.
“We weren’t expecting you until the summer break,” he admits as he holds his hand out for me to sit and I thank him.
“I know, that was my plan but just needed to get away for a week or so.”
He gives a knowing nod. “The usual?”
“The usual.” I smile. King crab salad to start and the truffle macaroni for mains washed down with a Léoube 2022.
He doesn’t even place the menu down, just keeps it close to his chest as he walks back to his station. My eyes follow him for a while before I am back looking across the dimly lit harbour.
I could live here, I think.
I only have Royce at home. He is big enough to handle himself.
I can work from here, I can fly back and forth for the races.
Of course, I am not at every race, but I do like to have my presence there.
It’s good for current and future sponsors to see the face behind Saint Onyx, for them to see the brand and what we represent.
I’m not alone with my thoughts for long when I see a waiter bringing over my bottle of wine and I give him a warm smile.
“Monsieur,” he greets me as he uncorks the wine and pours me a small amount to taste.
I sniff before taking a mouthful. I give him a confirming smile as I place my wine glass on the clothed table, and he fills it halfway before sinking the bottle into a wine cooler.
“Merci,” I mutter as he walks away and drag my glass towards me, and I find myself sighing.
I never expected to be a bit of a playboy at forty-six, but my wife, well, ex-wife and Royce’s mother, done a good job on fucking me up so bad that I never wanted to be in love again.
I chase after the girls I want, play the game, have my way with them, then ghost them. Dick move, yes, but before anything happens, I have my lawyer draw up an NDA. Nothing gets out. They agree to not breathe a word and I get sex on tap.
Disgusting, really. But this way I get my cake and eat it.
No ties.
No strings.
Just sex.
This is not the way I thought I would spend the rest of my life, but here we are.
You play the hand you’ve been dealt, and I have a pretty good deal.
Wealthy. Handsome. Strong work ethic… I scoff at my thoughts and take a large sip of my wine, swallowing the light liquid and letting it sink down my throat like silk.
It could be worse… it could always be worse.