Now #2
He sighs, looking down at his hands folded over his stomach. “I can’t even argue with that. Still, try playing nice. I hear they’re not fond of you.”
“Why should I care?”
“Trust me, Jax. You want allies out on track, not enemies.”
As if on cue, the one person who’s technically on my team but also doesn’t like me very much enters the team room.
Louis Descamps is my Altron teammate. He’s from Belgium and, to my dislike, comes from his parents’ money and their ability to pay for his karting upbringing.
Almost all the other racers grew up somehow rich, and it’s their family money that allowed them to make their way up the Formula steps. Not that they didn’t work hard for it. They just had it easier than I did.
“Congrats on the race, Louis,” Wesley says, pushing himself up from the deep armchair. “I’ll let you boys celebrate however you please. I’m flying back to Phoenix to see my wife.”
“Safe flight, Wes,” Louis says.
“With an Altron plane? Always.”
The old man winks at us, then leaves. Louis does as I did and lets his suit hang loosely at his hips.
“Will you let me wear it once?” he wonders out of the blue.
“What?”
“The locket,” he explains, pointing at the pendant on the chain at my neck. “So I can see if it’s really lucky or if you’re just that good.”
I reach over to unhook it. I look at it for a second, and ball it in my hand. “I’m afraid its luck is non-transferable.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“I just know, Louis.”
“Hm … The journalists say you’re the fun one, but I’m not so sure.”
“They love me because I make front pages look amazing.”
Louis chuckles. “You’re such a dickhead. Come on, let’s get changed. Some of the guys and I have booked a jet to Tokyo. We’re getting shit-faced for your birthday.”
I don’t feel like celebrating, but Wesley’s words are still ringing in my ears. He’s right. It’s better to race with friends than enemies. So far in my career, I haven’t been the most amicable driver, but maybe that’s something I should start working on.
“Yeah, give me a second to finish cooling down first.”
“Sure.”
Louis leaves for the showers, and I grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge.
Fuck, I should have gone with Wes and flown to Phoenix with him. It’s only a few more hours from there to Colorado.
I don’t feel like going to Tokyo. I don’t want to party. I didn’t even want to race today.
I’m trying to reason with myself when my phone rings in my suit’s pocket. I take it out, fully expecting it to be one of my sponsors or something. Some of them like to call whenever I win to congratulate me. But when I look at the screen, it’s not a sponsor.
Instead, it’s the last person I expected to call me.
Evie …
“Hello?” I say into the phone after picking up.
“Hi.”
Although I shouldn’t, I can’t stop myself from trying to guess the reason she might be calling me. Has she changed her mind? Does she not want a divorce anymore? Has she realized that she and her fiancé have negative chemistry and has broken off the engagement?
“Congrats on another win,” she says after a moment of pure torture.
“You watched this one, too?”
“My friends really like that sports bar. You got bored again, didn’t you?”
“Was it that noticeable?”
“To my expert eye, yes.” Another long beat, and she says, “Happy birthday, Jax.”
“Thank you.” When she hasn’t said anything else for a moment, I ask, “Is this why you called?”
“Uh … Yeah. It reminded me of the first time you won a big race on your birthday. It made me want to call you. It’s the third time this has happened, right?”
“Fourth, actually. Sakhir, two years ago.”
“Oh … Well, you got better at interviews.”
“Thank fucking God …”
She can’t fully hold back a giggle. “How’s Japan?”
“Eh, I’ve been here too many times. It lost its charm.”
“That’s bleak …”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
The following silence has a question burning on my tongue. I’m dying to ask it, but I fear the answer she might give me.
As I would on the track, I decide to trust my gut and go for it. “I haven’t heard back from my lawyers, so I don’t think they got anything from yours. You signed the papers, right?”
“I … I haven’t had time yet.”
“It’s been two weeks.”
“I know. I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“With life.” When I don’t answer, she feels compelled to defend herself. “I have a busy life, Jackson.”
“Like what?”
“Like planning a wedding.”
The playfulness of the exchange immediately dies. Must she really rub it in all the time?
“And how do you plan on getting married if you don’t get divorced first?” I ask with irony.
“I’m going to sign them, okay? I meant to, I just forgot about it.”
“Sure.”
After a pause, she says, “You know, I’m surprised you never filed for divorce yourself. I always thought you would.”
“Why?”
“Can you imagine what people would say if they knew the great Jackson Reyes is married to trailer park white trash from Colorado? The papers would have a field day with that information.”
The humorous edge she tries to give to her voice doesn’t hide her underlying insecurities. Does she mean this? Does she really think I mind?
“You were never that to me, Evie.”
“Really?”
“Of course not. Your mom, yes. But not you.”
She reflects on it for a moment, then says, “I think that’s why I never liked it when you call me ‘princess.’ It feels like you’re making fun of me. Like it’s ironic.”
“It’s not. It’s because of that jacket you wore the first time I met you. And because from the second I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted to treat you like one for the rest of my life.”
“It didn’t quite work out that way, did it?”
“And whose fault was that?”
Louis chooses this moment to return from his shower, wrapped in nothing but a white towel at his hips.
“Come on, man. Tokyo’s calling!”
Without waiting for my answer, he returns to the locker room.
“What was that?” Evie asks.
“Nothing. We’re heading to Tokyo after the press conference to celebrate my birthday.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re not alone.”
Her insinuation is a little offensive. That’s why I sound defensive when I say, “I have friends, Evangeline.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Like, three.”
“I know.”
“Okay, maybe two.”
“That makes more sense. You’re hard to like.”
I chuckle. This little … “I’d rather think I’m an acquired taste.”
“You’re definitely that, yes.”
Ten seconds pass until she decides to end this. “Anyhow, it’s late here. I need to go to bed. Happy birthday again, Hot Wheels. Have fun in Tokyo.”
“Thank you, princess.”
She hangs up first, and I’m left staring at my phone in one hand and the locket in the other.
Are these calls going to become a recurring thing?
She hasn’t signed the papers yet, and no matter what she says, I find it suspicious.
If she’s so eager to marry her fiancé, then those documents should already be signed and filed.
Instead, she’s stalling for some reason.
“Dude, come on!” Louis shouts from the locker room.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Can’t a guy spend his birthday in peace?!