CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CLARKE
Chapter Forty-four
Clarke
Drenched in champagne, Clarke stepped off the podium and walked through a crowd of people cheering, congratulating him, and taking photos.
Roxanne was suddenly by his side. “Let’s head over to the FIA post-race press conference.”
The press conference was always held immediately after the podium celebration. The top three drivers from the race were required to attend.
He felt hands slap him on the back as he passed. People around him were talking, but all he could hear was a steady humming. Until two voices slipped through that humming.
“Mr. Rivers, are the rumors true? Is your daughter going to leave her position as team principal and return to driving? And if so, will she be signing with one of your teams?”
“Huh?”
“Your daughter.”
“My daughter? Why are you asking me about her? Leo Clarke just won his eighth championship trophy.”
A moment later, Clarke felt a hand on his shoulder. He swung around.
Hank Rivers.
The man held out his hand. “I want to congratulate you on a phenomenal win.”
Clarke stared at the hand. He’d never refused a man’s hand.
Not even when he didn’t like the man. If a man offered you his hand, you shook it.
That was just basic manners. Basic decency.
And then he thought of Ceci. The things she said.
The things she did. And he thought, Sometimes being indecent is the most decent thing to do.
He met Rivers’s gaze.
“I’m not going to shake the hand of a man who makes his own daughter pay for something she had no control over, for something that’s not her fault, for something that’s caused her more pain than you’ll ever experience in your life. Because she’s had to live with it. HER. WHOLE. LIFE.”
Am I shouting? I am. I’m shouting. And I don’t give a fuck.
“And not only that. She’s had to do it as a kid, with no father to lean on.”
He could feel people turning and suddenly going silent, watching and listening. And he didn’t give a fucking damn.
He poked Rivers in the chest. “You are a fucking idiot. Maybe I should soft-soap it, maybe you just don’t know any better, maybe it has to do with how you were raised and you’re hurting too.
But none of that changes the fact that you are a FUCKING IDIOT.
Do you know how many men would give their right arm and more to have a daughter like Ceci?
” He lowered his voice so that others couldn’t hear.
“She loses her mother and her twin sibling in one fell swoop, and from the day she’s born gets stuck with YOU.
My God, it would be enough to make a person go insane or quit life altogether. But not her.”
Rivers opened his mouth as if to speak, but Clarke didn’t give him the chance.
“Not only does she pick one of the toughest sports on the planet, but one that is pure male because that’s all you see at every level in this sport—men.
And she becomes the ONLY female team principal on the paddock.
You do know there are only twenty F1 teams. That makes her one of twenty people. ON. THE. ENTIRE. PLANET.
“And as great as she is as a principal—damn, she kicked my ass last year and almost did this year—I hope she does go back to driving. Because her driving is a thing of beauty. Have you ever even seen her race?
“She’s good. She’s better than you will ever be in any fucking thing you ever do. Maybe that’s what gnaws at you. I don’t get it. Damn, having a daughter like that. That would be the greatest thing I could ever do. To bring someone like that into the world.”
Clarke turned to walk away but suddenly swung back.
“And by the way, at your house when your daughter stopped me from shooting with you and your boys, I wouldn’t rely on what you think you might have learned, if I were you.
I’m an expert marksman. I never miss. So know this, I wouldn’t be saying anything derogatory or belittling about that girl within my hearing—fuck I wouldn’t say it outside my hearing on the off chance that I get wind of it.
If I were you, Rivers, I would tread very, very, very carefully.
Because if you don’t, you won’t like what’s coming at you.
What’s more, you won’t see it until it hits. ”
Up until then, Rivers appeared too stunned to even move, let alone say anything. Now, he found his voice.
“Are you threatening me?”
Clarke took two steps to get up in the man’s face.
“That’s not a threat. It’s a simple, undeniable fact.
It’s the gravity that’s holding down your sorry ass to this earth.
It’s the air you’re breathing right now.
It’s the sun on your face on a sunny day.
It’s the rain falling on a rainy one. Know this and know this now, Rivers.
It is your life. From this point on. Until the day you die. ”
Gritting his teeth, Clarke fisted his hands, turned and marched off.
His heart was pounding. Surely adrenaline and fire flowed through his veins rather than blood.
He didn’t know where Roxanne had gone. The pressroom was just up ahead.
He could see they were waiting for him. He was nearly there when something hit him from behind like a bolt of lightning.
It almost knocked him off his feet. It definitely knocked the wind out of him.
He looked down at the arms wrapped around him.
He ran his fingers over the birthmark and tattoo on her wrist.
“People are staring,” he muttered.
“You know, Sir Stick Up His Ass, I don’t know whether to scowl or grin. Because as much as I say I want you to change, I find some sort of strange comfort in the fact that you are one of those rare constants in my life. And now it’s your turn to prove it. You are a man of honor, are you not?”
He grinned, but he also felt a lump in his throat. He’d always thought so, but now he wasn’t so certain.
“I think so,” he said, recognizing that tentative tone and wondering if she could hear it too.
“Do you remember, when you grabbed me from behind, making me stop to listen to you, you promised me that I could do the same to you. Whenever. Wherever.”
His chin dropped to his chest.
Ceci Rivers—there really is no one else like you.
“I remember. So what is it you want? Do you want to squeeze my ass again?”
She laughed. “Uh-uh.”
“Give me another black eye?”
“Nope.”
“You want me to listen to you.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, but we have a rather large audience at the moment, and they appear to be listening. And up ahead, the press is waiting. Not to mention the camera crews. Can we do this after—”
“You promised.”
She was right. He did.
“And I fully intend to keep that promise.”
“Because you’re a man of honor.”
He grinned. “Because I’m a man of honor.” He drew a breath. “If we’re going to do this, I’m going to need you to follow my lead.”
Clarke turned to address the press and crowd who were standing around, some of them shouting questions. He held up his hand. “I’m going to answer all your questions.” He waved at the attendant just outside the pressroom. “I just need five minutes. Okay, five minutes.”
He took Ceci’s hand and headed toward Elegante’s garage.
Clarke noticed some people following them. There was no way they could do this here.
“Are you wearing heels?” he asked her. “Can you run?”
“I can run.”
He pulled out his phone and texted. The reply was practically immediate.
Good.
“I have my Ducati here. One of the crew is going to have it waiting for us with two helmets. The city is like, what, fifteen minutes away? We’ll go there.”
“What if some of them follow us?”
“Oh, they’ll follow us.” He grinned. “But they won’t catch us.”
She groaned. “So, Sir Galahad.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He glanced behind them, and then leaned down, whispering in her ear. “I’m going to count down from five to one, and then it’s go. Put your hand in mine.” She did. “Five … four … three … two … one … Go!”
They took off. Luckily the confusion gave them enough of a head start.
The Ducati was waiting for them. They put on their helmets, jumped on the bike, and were off just as some people came running up.