CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #2
‘Oh! My apologies, Miss Paldon. Please, come with me.’ Her shoulders lost the tension and the smile became genuine – or at least less fake. The speed with which she led me through the lobby was surprising, suggesting that I hadn’t been the only one who’d received a note on being punctual.
We passed the sparkling fountain and my mouth fell open.
It was made of raw arcanite. Completely solid.
The light had long since gone out, but there was no faking the translucent crystalline structure of it.
Apart from seeing the Sky Pillar race on a cast, it was the biggest piece of arcanite I’d ever seen.
The dining room came into view with a delicate melody floating out, some old classic song played on strings. The ceiling was high, painted with images of the Sky Pillar and the legends surrounding it, just in case the patrons need a reminder of their tax bracket while getting rid of a neck spasm.
The hostess led me to the back of the dining room, passing the other guests who were deep in quiet conversation.
The volume level in the room was eerily low, the music – which turned out to be from a live band in the far corner – blended with the hushed tones.
It wasn’t like anywhere I’d been before.
Meal times were for being loud, messy and enjoyable as far as I was concerned.
Against the far wall was a set of curved booths, covered in cream leather. Only one was taken. The occupant had their back to us as we approached, their greying blonde hair was plaited and twisted up into a bun. Even from behind I could see their posture was far better than my own.
‘Excuse me, Miss Hough, your guest is here.’ The hostess spoke to her with a reverence that had very much not been present with me.
She stepped back, allowing me to slip into the booth opposite the mysterious Miss Hough.
She was tall and poised, relaxed against the back of the booth. There was an athleticism to her, but one far removed from my own.
Where I was, as Josie put it, a meathead, Miss Hough had the build of a dancer. She was streamlined and delicate, one hand resting over the other on the table, her nimble-looking fingers almost floating. I decided to sit on my hands, ham-fisted as they were.
She was wearing all white. It was so stark that it made even the luxe cream leather around us look tired and old.
The lines of her suit were sharp, the seams almost invisible.
It wasn’t the kind of thing I was used to noticing, but since Theo’s lessons on what not to wear, I could see that this lady knew exactly how to present herself.
Even her skin was eerily white, smooth, despite the grey in her hair.
‘Miss Paldon, it’s a pleasure to see you.’ Even her voice was rich. I took a bet on her not owning a pen because someone else was paid to carry them.
I watched the hostess walk away, almost missing the comfort of a third person. ‘Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too. Though I have to admit, I’m a little lost on why I got an invitation in the first place.’
Her face gave nothing away. ‘Oh? You’re not in the market for a sponsor?’
My eyes hurt from how fast they widened. Josie had been right, again. ‘A sponsor?’
‘If you truly are unaware of why you are here, let me be clear – we have an opportunity, Miss Paldon.’ Her tone was hard to place. Reserved and calm, yet full of authority. It reminded me a little of Cam, the way she spoke quietly so people were forced to listen carefully.
‘You are the first woman to fly in Volitant. Whether those running the sport liked your methods or not, you made history this season. If you were to continue racing the visibility of any brand associated with you would be unprecedented. You represent not only a marketing opportunity, but a way to access a currently untapped audience in one of the largest businesses across the continents.’
‘An untapped audience?’ I understood that she thought I was a good signpost for her ads – that was the core business model for the racing teams – but if I had to take a guess I’d have said all the fans had chosen their favourite riders already.
‘Women, Miss Paldon.’ Tension pulled at her voice.
‘The men running Volitant underestimate the impact of female spending power. Once they realize that they can make money by catering to women, the landscape of racing will change forever. First though, someone has to show them. That’s what I intend to do.
If you agree, I will personally sponsor you and see you through the rest of your racing career. ’
I blinked a few times. Not to process her words, but to form a response that captured everything racing through my mind.
What she said made sense. It wasn’t just within the teams that women weren’t prioritized, it happened to the fans too.
Sure, the ratio wasn’t as bad, but every piece of team clothing I’d bought – or had been liberated by Cam – was in a men’s size. That was just the tip of the iceberg.
‘You think I can help?’
Hough nodded. ‘You’ve already made waves within the sport and your activities this summer have kept the conversation around you alive.
Each morning my assistant puts the full range of newspapers, magazines and cast reports on my breakfast table.
Your name has been mentioned with more frequency each week.
Then, yesterday, you appeared on the cover. ’
She reached to the seat next to her and placed a glossy magazine on the table between us.
On the front page was me, exiting one of the club’s the night before. I smiled. Colly’s head was floating in the background as I’d hoped, caught completely off guard. Theo somehow managed to look like a model yet still being candid, while Quinn’s head was ducked down behind us.
Hough put another paper on the table– the Season Single. Then another. All of them had similar stills of me with the guys.
‘Shame they’re not more flattering.’
‘My team can teach you how to fix that.’
I’d been joking, but I took the hit.
‘Imagine my surprise when my granddaughter points at you and says, “She helped me win my race”.’