Chapter 9
CONSISTENCY: ABILITY TO MAINTAIN LAP TIMES
The bell over the door gives an off-key jingle the second I push inside. The familiar scent of yeast and garlic hits me. The lighting is low in that not-quite-on-purpose way—a mix of old pendant lamps and neon beer signs.
Nothing matches. It never has. There’s comfort in knowing I don’t need to adapt to be here. After all, the novelty of seeing us together wore off for the regulars well over two decades ago.
My shoulders relax a fraction when I spot him in the back corner booth.
After all these years since his retirement, my father is perpetually revved up. It’s the same way most people who spend their careers living on the edge are. Even retired, whether in a plain black Henley or a fire suit, there’s something about my father that draws attention.
When he spots me weaving through the tightly spaced tables to get to him, he grins. “Pumpkin! You made it.”
I lean over and kiss his cheek before sitting down across from him, ignoring my childhood nickname. He and my mother called me that ever since I dressed up as one when I was four. It was one of the few times he was home during his time on the circuit for Halloween. “Hey, Dad.”
Immediately, a Diet Pepsi is placed in front of me. Before I can take a sip, I know he’s reading the tension in my shoulders when he asks, “Rough day?”
“Rough week. That obvious?”
“Only to me.”
“Great, the one person I wanted to fool,” I tease.
“You gonna lie about it, or you wanna tell me what’s going on?”
Before I can answer, an order of fried zucchini lands in front of us. We’ve been here thousands of times. Not once have we changed our order. The routine of it relaxes me enough to admit, “I was assigned a new client.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
I hesitate before sharing, “It’s Apex Orion Racing.”
He leans back slowly, eyes narrowing in thought. I can practically see the gears turning. Decades of racing knowledge slip into place with everything he knows about me—including my work, my life.
My heart.
“That’s high stakes with the way they’ve been performing. What are you working on? Telemetry? Predictive modeling? A team that visible will want results yesterday.”
“I’ve been brought on to completely rewrite the interface. There’s lag under certain high-load conditions—corner entry, mostly. It’s translating into unnecessary driver corrections.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “That’s my girl.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. It always does when he says that—like I’m still the kid in pigtails sitting on the hood of his car, listening to him explain lines and braking zones while I pretended I understood everything.
“When do you get access to the live data?”
“Just under a week. They won’t expose me to the full data unless I’m on site. For now, I’m building a simulation based on logs and prior race outputs.”
“What feels right on paper doesn’t always hold at speed.”
“I know.”
“Vegas?”
“Where else?”
“Want to stay at the house?”
I smile faintly. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
His eyes soften with love. “Pumpkin, you are always welcome to stay there.”
The waiter comes by, dropping our extra cheese, half sausage pizza on the table without comment.
After he leaves, my father stares at me intently. Waiting. Not for details about my new assignment, but for confirmation of who I’ll be working with. As he’s plating my first slice, I tell him about the charity gala I need to attend. “I’m looking forward to running into all your friends.”
My father’s lips curve. “Be prepared to hear, ‘You’ve grown so much!’”
I roll my eyes.
Then, he wonders, “Do you think Apex knows who you are?”
“You mean your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Unlikely. The contract was signed between my boss and the team director—Dario Morretti—who never once indicated he knew Christin Gage is Christin Porter.”
“Are you sure? I used to race with Morretti’s father.” He reaches for a slice of pizza that had just been set next to us without fanfare.
After he serves me, I sprinkle extra parmesan and garlic on my piece. “Did you?”
“Yes. And if his son is worth half of him, he knows who you are, Pumpkin,” he cautions. “Makes me wonder if your ex knows as well.”
“Truthfully, I care more about this pizza than if the Apex Orion team figured out who I am.” To prove my point, I shove the pointy end of the slice into my mouth and chew.
“Why did you two break up?” he probes.
I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to ask. “He said some things that hurt me. Leo told Dario I wouldn’t stand out.” The bile rising in my throat because I’m admitting something like this to my world-renowned father makes my appetite vanish.
My words must shock him because he unintentionally drops his slice down. Instead of exploding, he goes very still.
Uh-oh. This is going to be bad, I think to myself. I try to defuse his anger. “He didn’t know I was there.”
“Doesn’t matter. If anything, that makes it worse,” my father snaps.
“Dad—”
“So, you’re going to spend months saving his chicken shit ass?”
I can’t help but grin. The years of my father touring around the F1 circuit didn’t excavate his Georgia roots. If anything, it made him cling to them tighter as he won championship after championship. I confide, “I threw him out of Mom’s house. Didn’t care how he left, just that he did.”
“Good!” His voice booms. Then he leans forward and lays his hand over mine. “You are not what he made you feel.”
Tears well in my eyes. I refuse to let them fall. “I’m choosing to set aside what he said.”
“What? Why?”
“You remember what it’s like for me to deal with clients, right? Most of them are awful.” I rattle off some of my least favorites.
“So, you think it won’t be a problem to work with Leo?”
“No.” My answer lies between us. “I won’t treat him any differently.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Pumpkin.”
I hate that he’s right. I share candidly, “Maybe it’s because I had you and Mama as examples, but I never imagined what he said could still linger. I never felt anything like I did with Leo, Dad.”
My confession hovers between us. His face softens as he reaches across the table to lay his hand over mine. “He mattered; therefore, it hurt worse.”
I stare down at our clasped hands. “I hate feeling like this.”
I question whether he inhaled a few too many fumes from his time on the circuit when he says, “It’s not wrong to forgive someone if they demonstrate they’re trying to redeem themselves.”
“I’d have to see it to believe it.” I reach for my drink and take a small sip, giving myself a moment before admitting, “I thought I knew him.”
“You knew the version of him he showed you—like you only shared part of who you are. Now you’re going to be in the same world.”
“Great.”
“What? I’m just telling you the truth.”
“You’re not helping make it any easier.” Still, my determination kicks in. “I refuse to walk away from this job. It’s exactly the kind of work I’ve always loved.”
A flicker of pride crosses his face. “That’s my girl.”
I exhale, some of the tension easing.
“But,” he adds, voice turning serious again, “you don’t owe anyone access to you beyond that work. Not him. Not anyone on that team.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He pulls his hand away and picks up his pizza again.
“I do.” Then, I reach for my own slice.
“All right. Then here’s what you’re gonna do.”
“Telling me how to do my job, Dad?” I tsk at him. “For shame.”
“You’re gonna storm into Apex Orion and outperform every idiot in that building. You’ll make them better than they’ve ever been.”
“No pressure, though.”
His eyes gleam, the same blue as mine. “None at all. Because if that boy gets in your way—personally or professionally—you remember exactly who you are.”
“Which is?”
“The smartest person in any room you walk into and tougher than half the drivers I ever raced against.”
I absorb his reassurance and file it as a barrier for the future. Knowing I’m loved buffers the pain still lingering in my heart. “Okay.”
He then reaches down deep. I know it’s hard for him to bring her up, but he does. “Your mother would be so proud of you, Pumpkin.”
I ache seeing the loss and pain on his face at his words. Losing my mother to a prolonged illness when I was in my teens changed something in my father fundamentally—more so than losing a race, he lost the love of his life. “I know she would. I know you are too.”
He nods once, satisfied. Then he adds lightly, “Besides, maybe their problem isn’t software related. If he can’t see you for the amazing person you are, that’s a vision defect. Mention that to Morretti.”
I laugh—really laugh. For the first time since Leanne volunteered me for this assignment, I feel like I can breathe again.
“Eat,” he orders, nudging my plate toward me. “You’ve got a team to fix.”
“And a driver to ignore,” I add.
“For now,” he says, reminding me I’ll have to work with Leo.
“For now.”
I take a bite and chew while considering the consequences of what I’m about to do. Then again, no matter what happens in the next few months, I won’t be alone. I have my friends. My dad.
Most importantly, I have my self-respect.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what Leo’s going to do when he sees me.