Now #2
And before that, I was a rather bold person, never really worried about anything life might throw at me. So, I wouldn’t say there’s much that can make me nervous.
But meeting Evie’s friends had me all up in my head.
It wasn’t so much that I worried about the event itself, but rather what they’d think of me.
I know she’s proud of the life she’s built here, and their opinion of me holds some importance.
What if, for some reason, they didn’t like me? Where would we go from there?
Thankfully, everything so far has gone well.
They were all a little shocked at first, which is understandable.
Like Evie said on our way here, I am the most famous person who’s ever come out of this state.
And it’s my understanding they’ve been gathering on Grand Prix Sundays to watch races.
That means they all knew who I was when I knew very little about them.
Maybe that’s why I was so nervous about coming today. I’m rarely the only celebrity when I go to events.
But they didn’t blow it out of proportion. By the time Cynthia and her wife, Yasmine, arrived with their two kids, everyone had more or less moved on from me.
I still can’t believe the surprise they’d planned was an afternoon of karting.
What a perfectly appropriate setting for me to meet Evie’s friends.
I can’t race, of course, or I’d risk getting into trouble with the FIA.
Being here is already stretching it a little, but racing, even in a kart, would come with a whole lot of consequences I’d rather not face.
Even if I’m extremely tempted to try a few laps against Evie.
It’s okay, though. I’ve become everyone’s coach for the afternoon instead.
The kids who came along with their parents are loving it, but so do the adults who want to beat their friends on the track.
My experience with karting is limited, but I’d say I’m a pretty decent open-wheel driver, so I do my best with advice and tips.
The kids are racing right now, so the adults are mingling, aside from the few parents standing by the sidelines to watch their progeny race.
As I look around, I can’t help but appreciate the casualness of this.
The place isn’t exactly festive, but they’ve made it work with a few balloons floating, tethered to the ground by little weights, and a homemade “Happy Birthday!” banner.
It helps counter the austerity of the polished concrete floor, scuffed in places.
The air smells faintly of rubber and engine oil drifting in from the track, which I’m very familiar with.
Chips and peanuts are on paper plates, scattered around the available surfaces in this area.
There’s a beverage table with boxed juices, bottles of soda, and light beers.
It’s all very … authentic. Very normal.
I’ve been living in luxury for so long, I almost forgot what it’s like to be around real people.
Between the crowd I’m usually around and my wealth, I’ve let my old self disappear in money and fame.
I’m slowly remembering now, and I understand why Evie didn’t feel comfortable on Wesley’s yacht.
Compared to this, it felt artificial. Boisterous. Overdone.
I much prefer this, even if the drinks aren’t chilled anymore and there’s no gourmet finger food. This afternoon is about the memories we make. Its quality comes from the people here, not artificial and materialistic stuff.
“Hey, Jackson,” one of Evie’s friends says, reaching me along with his wife. Tom, I think. “I know we said we’d all be chill, but would you mind if we take a picture with you? We’re big fans in our household.”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”
“It’s not to share online, I promise. We don’t even have social media.”
I’ve explained to them the reason I’m not racing in Austria today, as well as the fact that I’d rather my presence here didn’t become too public. I don’t want to deal with everything it would bring.
“Don’t worry, man. I trust you. Should we take it next to the other me?”
“That would be hilarious,” he agrees.
The existing decoration in this place is minimal—two crossed checkered flags hanging on one wall, and on another, posters and framed pictures of Formula One cars and drivers. And in the middle of the display, a life-size cardboard cutout of me, which I find very amusing.
Needless to say, the few people who came in and didn’t know who I was were quickly clued in.
I walk with Tom and his wife toward cardboard-me. We easily find someone to snap the pictures for us and take a few shots with various poses. Tom stands by the cutout version while his wife is with me, still visibly a little starstruck.
In the two hours we’ve been here, they’re the first ones who’ve asked for pictures. But it seems their boldness is contagious because more of them come to do the same once we’re finished. I don’t mind, aware it comes with the job.
Evie is a little farther away, chatting with Cynthia and her wife. She glances in my direction every so often, and every time our eyes meet, we exchange a small smile.
Once the impromptu photo shoot is over, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
As I walk down the hallway to return to the festivities, drying my hands on my jeans, I recognize Evie’s voice, speaking low right around the corner.
The fact that she’s trying not to be heard by everyone immediately piques my curiosity. So, I pause in my tracks and listen.
“I told you,” she seems to insist. “He’s just a friend.”
“Not with the way you two look at each other, he isn’t,” Cynthia counters.
“Well, we used to date.”
“You’ve said that, yes. For how long?”
Evie hesitates for a few seconds, then admits, “Seven years.”
“Seven years?!”
“Shh!”
“Evie, he’s more than a high school crush.”
I can hear the way she sighs. Then, after another pause, she continues her confession with, “We were actually married at one point.”
“What?!”
“Keep your voice down, Cyn!”
“Girl, what is going on? When did that happen?!”
“About eleven-ish years ago. But we’re divorced now.”
“Since when?”
“Uh … last week, actually.”
“Evangeline!”
“I know,” Evie whines, as if overwhelmed.
“Did he want to divorce, or did you?”
“I did. He wanted to … try again, I think.”
“And now you two are divorced and trying again.”
“We’re not—”
“Don’t lie to me, Vivi. I’m your boss. I can fire you.”
Evie sighs. “It sort of happened on its own. I wasn’t visiting relatives during my weeks off. I was with him in Europe. First Monaco, then Barcelona.”
Cynthia doesn’t seem to know what to answer, but I’m pretty sure she’s shaking her head disapprovingly.
“I couldn’t tell you,” Evie tries to justify herself. “It wasn’t meant to get serious. It was just …”
When she can’t find the words, her friend fills in the blanks for her, “You were just getting railed all over the Mediterranean coastline.”
“Cynthia!” Evie protests. After a pause, she mumbles with an audible smile, “Just the far Northwestern portion of it.”
Cynthia chuckles at that, and I can’t hold back a small smirk. Evie’s opening up, which is good. We’ve behaved in front of her friends so far, no matter how much my hands long to touch her. But she’s able to talk about these things to her closest friend, which has to be a good sign.
“What are you going to do now?” Cynthia wonders, a little more seriously this time.
“If it were his choice, I’d drop everything and join him for the rest of the European season.”
“And you can’t because …?”
“I have to work? Aren’t you my boss? Don’t you want me to do my job?”
“You know I’m very happily married, but if Jackson Reyes wanted me to drop my wife, kids, and job to spend the summer with him in Europe? I’d do it. Maybe. Probably.”
Evie laughs at that. “I’ve worked so hard to get this degree. I can’t just abandon everything to follow him around.”
“First of all, it’s just for the summer. Second, most of your projects won’t need immediate attention until the school year starts again. And third, if you cared about this job so much, you would have gotten certified by now.”
“But it’s for more than this summer, isn’t it? And his job requires his immediate attention all the time. I would have to be the one leaving everything behind if we really want to make this work.”
“And you can’t do that?”
“Would you? Would you leave it all behind for Yasmine’s career?”
Cynthia doesn’t even have to think before she answers, “No, not for her career. For her. I’d drop everything to be with her in a heartbeat.”
That apparently gives Evie a lot to think about, and when several seconds have passed without another word, I decide it’s time to come out. I can’t risk staying much longer and being discovered. Neither of them would be comfortable knowing I was eavesdropping.
I try to act normal as I return to the main room. “Hey, we were just talking about you,” Cynthia says when she sees me.
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
“No, I was telling Evie how when I first saw you, I thought she’d lied to the Make-A-Wish Foundation or something to get you here.”
“Ah, no, I’m just an old friend who had an empty weekend to occupy.”
She gives Evie a subtle look that I can easily read, having heard their conversation, and returns to me. “She told me, yes. Thank you so much for coming. You’ve made my forty-fifth birthday truly memorable.”
“Of course. I actually meant to get you alone to give you your birthday gift,” I explain, pulling a folded envelope out of my back pocket. I hand it to her and say, “Sorry, I didn’t have time for more. Hope it’ll be alright.”
She opens it and pulls out the printed papers. She skims over them with some confusion, then meets my eyes again. “What is it?”
“Two tickets for the Vegas Grand Prix. The whole three days. And hotel accommodations at the Bellagio. I know it can get very expensive around the race, and I didn’t want the gift to become a strain. Oh, and plane tickets for you and your wife. First class.”
After a few beats of stupor, she shakes her head. “It’s way too much. I can’t take this.”