8. XANDER
Chapter 8
XANDER
T he commercial set shimmered with bright lights, casting an artificial glow that heightened the warmth of the fabricated scene. The photographer, a perfectionist with a discerning eye, directed us with precision, his voice echoing through the studio.
“Great, Xander! Now, hold her waist a bit tighter. Yes, that's it. And, Claire, tilt your head just a bit more towards him. Excellent! Remember, we're capturing the essence of a deeply in love, perfect couple.”
I mechanically followed the instructions, my arm wrapped around the stunning Claire, whose features and grace seemed to blur in my peripheral vision. As the photographer continued to guide us through various poses, my mind, however, wandered elsewhere...
In the midst of feigned smiles and carefully choreographed embraces, I couldn't shake the persistent image of Lyca from my thoughts. The gentle curve of Claire's smile began to morph into the genuine, heartwarming smile I associated with Lyca. Her laughter, though artificial for the shoot, carried echoes of Lyca's infectious joy.
“Alright, let's try the kiss now. Make it look real and passionate!” the photographer announced, interrupting my reverie.
I wanted to protest and ask if that was necessary. But I knew better than to look as if I were complaining. So, I took a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly as I prepared for the final scene. As my lips met Claire's in a staged display of affection, I couldn't help but wish that it was Lyca that I held in my arms and not this model.
More clicking of the shutter could be heard, along with the flashing of lights. Finally, the photographer called out the wrap, signaling the end of the commercial shoot.
Claire linked her arm with mine as I made my way out of the studio. “Want to have coffee?” she asked casually.
“Sorry, I still have a lot to do. I need to get back to the office fast.”
“Oh,” was all she said, looking disappointed. “Ok. Another time then.”
I nodded politely and then quickly got into my car. The thought of seeing Lyca, even if it was just a brief interaction, provided a sense of comfort that contrasted sharply with the staged intimacy of the commercial set.
I checked my phone for any missed messages or calls. There were none, and I felt greatly dismayed. But just as I arrived at the parking lot of Steele Motorsport International, my phone rang. It was my mother.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?”
She quickly summarized her exhausting weekend, explaining that she had to work through it. Once again, it boosted my desire to earn even more. I wanted to give her that gift of not having to work anymore to pay off her debts and provide for her living expenses. At least she didn’t have to worry about me anymore since I’d started earning my own money.
“Don’t worry, alright? Try to get some rest,” I told her. “I just received the payment for a commercial shoot, so I’m sending it all to you to help pay for the debts.”
“But honey, what about your daily needs?”
“I’m going to get my salary soon.”
“From your father?”
“From his company, yes. But I’m not accepting any additional money from him.”
“Okay. Take care, son.”
“Thanks, Mom. You too.”
We had almost paid off all our debts that accumulated while I was growing up when Mom was juggling multiple jobs.I was positive that things would start to improve soon, and we would finally be free from this financial weight.
Neither of us ever sought anything from my father, even when we’d heard about the success of his company and when he’d become a billionaire. For many years, he hadn’t sent any amount, but my mom was proud and stubborn. Even when it became difficult for her, she’d remained silent.
As soon as I breezed into the office, I saw her. She was like a beacon of light and serenity for me, overpowering all my negative thoughts and feelings. Her blue-green eyes sparkled with a warmth that transcended the typical hustle and bustle of the office. Her usually long straight blonde hair had been styled into beach waves, giving her a sexier and more captivating appearance.
She suddenly looked up and met my gaze. It was as if she’d felt my presence. A soft smile spread on her lips, and I remembered the feeling of being nestled in her embrace, our skin gently brushing against each other.
When I passed by her casually, I couldn’t resist whispering, “Twister rematch?”
Her grin filled me with the sensation that we shared some sort of secret known only to the two of us. However, before I could linger at that moment, she was instantly swept away by a group of employees, leaving me with a sense of longing..
“I better work out first,” I muttered to myself as I made my way to the gym. But just as I was about to reach my destination, Phoebe managed to block my way, pulling me toward an unused storage room.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said in a seductive voice, batting her eyelashes at me. “I’ve seen you looking at me so many times, and I know that you want me as much as I want you.”
I was speechless. I couldn’t even remember looking at her, much less getting attracted. “You must be mistaken,” I finally said, ensuring I remained near the doorway to prevent her from closing it. “I’m sorry, Phoebe.”
“What? Do you have a girlfriend?” she demanded to know.
“No, but I’m not looking for one.”
“I’m not after a relationship, either. No strings attached, baby.” She sidled up to me, rubbing her big breasts against my torso.
I gently pushed her away. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested,” I stated firmly before turning to walk away.
“Oh, you’re just playing hard to get,” she called from behind me. I didn’t bother turning around. I simply continued walking toward the direction of the gym, eager to sweat out the tension and confusion building up inside of me.
That evening, I entered the expansive Steele residence feeling uncertain and nervous. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as well. The grandeur of the house, with its magnificent furnishings and opulent décor, unmistakably transported me to a realm far removed from the racetracks and the modest life my mother and I had known.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered. It wasn’t the first time that I would be meeting my father’s other family, but the last encounter was when I was just about seven or eight years old. I had no idea what to expect this time.
My father had invited me for dinner, and as I crossed the threshold, the sheer scale of the surroundings left me momentarily breathless. A tinge of bitterness passed through my chest.
He’s had all this luxury for a long time and didn’t even bother to find out how Mom and I were doing. If not for my celebrity status in the racing world, maybe he wouldn’t have paid me any attention. He would have probably forgotten he had a son.
“Xander, my son!” Dad greeted me cheerfully when he saw me. He was wearing his usual suit and had a friendly smile on his face. “Come in and make yourself at home. This is your house too, alright? Treat it like your own.”
Perhaps that last remark didn’t sit well with his wife. Barbara Steele, my stepmother, stood beside him and greeted me with a polite nod and a fleeting smile. But her demeanor exuded a cool detachment. Her eyes, as they briefly met mine, held an enigmatic reserve, leaving me to wonder about the complexities lying beneath the surface.
I reciprocated with a respectful nod. “Good evening, Barbara. Hello, Dad. Thank you for inviting me.”
My father clasped my shoulder with a firm grip and led me toward an elegant dining room with expensive-looking chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A redheaded girl, about five years younger than me, stood awkwardly waiting for us. She gave me an uneasy smile.
“Xander, do you remember your sister, Julia?” Dad said, motioning to the girl.
“Uh, not quite. I think we’ve only met once before,” I answered truthfully. “It’s good to see you, Julia.”
“You too,” she replied, but she didn’t sound convincingly glad to see me.
As we took our seats, the awkward atmosphere became palpable. Julia, my half-sister, seemed distant and aloof, her eyes occasionally meeting mine with a fleeting glance that hinted at an unspoken tension. My attempts at polite conversation were met with restrained responses, creating a subtle barrier between us.
“So, Xander,” my father interjected, attempting to bridge the gaps in conversation, “I heard that you’ve been doing well in our team and getting along with the other racers… How’s everything?”
“Good, thanks,” I replied with a polite smile, glancing at the meticulously prepared feast before us. “LA City Speed Showdown is coming up, so we’re busy preparing for that."
“Oh, yes, right. That’s good. I’ll free up my schedule to be there.”
I was taken aback. I wasn’t expecting him to watch, but it gave me a warm feeling to know that he wanted to be there for me.
Following the sumptuous dinner, my father and I found ourselves strolling through the meticulously manicured garden. The cool evening air provided a welcome respite from the formalities of the dining room, while the soft glow from the garden lights enveloped our conversation in a tranquil ambiance.
Dad broke the silence, a genuine warmth infusing his voice. “Xander, I can't express how happy I am to reconnect with you. These moments mean the world to me.”
I nodded. “It's been a long time coming, Dad. I appreciate your reaching out.”
He paused, his gaze sincere. “I want to thank you, Xander. Thank you for letting me back into your life. It means everything to me.”
His words hung in the air, and I felt a peculiar tightening in my chest. Memories of the difficult times my mom and I had faced without his presence flashed through my mind. The years of uncertainty and the struggles we'd weathered all alone came rushing back.
However, at that moment, as he stood beside me in the tranquil garden, I recognized the genuine sincerity in his eyes. The weight of the past began to ease, and I felt a surge of compassion washing over me. It was a journey marked with complexities, pain, and missed opportunities, yet within me blossomed a profound desire to forgive and embrace the opportunity for a new chapter.
“I’m sorry it took me such a long time to realize what was missing in my life, Xander,” my father said quietly. “I was missing you, a part of me, my son.”
“Dad,” I began, my voice steady. “It hasn't been easy, but we’re here now. Let's just move forward and make the most of the time we have now.”
He smiled, gratitude and relief reflecting in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, Xander. Not just because of what you’ve achieved, but for the person you have become. Your mother brought you up well.”
"Thank you," I managed to say, my throat tightening with emotion. It was a profoundly sentimental moment, one that made me marvel at the realization that the childhood dream I had harbored was now unfolding in real life.
As we neared a secluded bench, my father's expression shifted, taking on a more contemplative tone. “Son,” he began, his voice carrying a sense of earnestness, “I've been thinking about the future of Steele Velocity Racing, and I want you to be a part of it, not just as one of the race car drivers.”
I looked at him, curiosity mingling with surprise. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want to offer you the role of Steele Velocity Racing's team manager. Of course, provided you can balance the responsibilities with your racing career.”
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I was caught off guard by the magnitude of the proposition. “Am I even qualified for that?”
“We’ll provide continuous training, of course, son” he assured me. “You’re a Steele, despite not legally adopting my family name because me and your mother weren’t married back then. You’re still a Steele. You have my blood. Look at you, Xander. I believe in you, and I know that you’ll do a great job.”
He believes in me. For some reason, this was so hard for me to process.
“I think you have the leadership qualities to guide the team to new heights,” Dad added. “Plus, everyone respects you. It's a chance for you to shape the legacy of Steele Velocity Racing and to make good money.”
As I considered his offer, the garden seemed to echo the possibilities that lay ahead. The fragrant blooms and gentle breeze whispered of growth and transformation. The decision felt weighty, yet there was a sense of destiny in the air—a moment where past grievances could be set aside, and a shared vision for the future could emerge.
Finally, I said in a quiet but determined voice, “I’ll do it, Dad.”