79. Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Henry
Ieven managed to change into some slacks, figuring dressing professionally would help me in the long run.
Milo was smart enough to point out a button down would be easier to put on, too.
He rode to the paddock with me and kept stride with me as I all but ran toward the garage.
I paused for just a second though, finally hearing something Milo had said.
“Somone threw soda on Kat?” I asked quietly. He nodded, looking stricken.
“There’s a… video. On the internet. It’s gone viral. She got called a skank,” he offered tentatively. Mother FUCKER.
“I fucking hate the internet,” I murmured. He nodded aggressively.
“I can’t bloody believe people actually think they have the right…” I trailed off, not able to finish my train of thought through the lump in my throat. Well. Neither here nor there. I needed to focus on my next conversation.
“Wait out here, okay? Don’t come in,” I said to him quietly. He nodded, but I didn’t fully believe him. I didn’t have time for this, though.
I barged through the door, not bothering to knock.
“Basti. I’d ask you what the fuck, but it’s clear you don’t fucking care. Where the hell is- Corning,” I finished, finding the bastard behind Basti’s desk. Basti was leaning against the bar cart, arms and legs crossed in front of him.
“You are bloody unbelievable,” I started pointing at Corning, ignoring my racing pulse and shallow breathing. It wasn’t relevant at the moment.
“I can’t believe you’d do this. After everything Eleanora went through, and you’re treating a woman this way? A woman in MOTORSPORTS this way? Bloody unbelievable!” I continued, recognizing I’d repeated myself. I needed to get it all out before I passed out.
Because there was only one way to fix this, and it wasn’t by fixing it, at all. It was about making a statement to the world, so the world would FUCKING correct itself.
Apparently, the press conference wasn’t corrective enough. Very well.
“I won’t be a part of a company that treats women this way.
I can’t BELIEVE you don’t see how this is literally fucking victim blaming.
She—and honestly, I as well—has a very strong suit for defamation against the documentary company.
And you are confirming it. Would you like to be named in the suit? ” I shouted. I was off topic again.
“So, honestly, fuck this. I quit. I’m breaking contract. Sue me all you want, I don’t give a single bloody fuck!” I screamed, louder than before. Corning stood. First time I’d ever seen him stand for a conversation. Good. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
“Actually, don’t sue me. Because if you do, I’ll countersue you for forging my signature on that disgusting fucking NDA last fall. I think that’s all,” I finished, slightly more quietly but still definitely in the shouting range.
I stood there breathing heavily after all of the shouting and quick walking and pain. I winced at the thought of what that stupid finger clip would tell Kat about my oxygen levels now.
Then I stormed out of the room.
We were done here.
I walked by an anxious looking Milo, unable to say anything at that exact moment. I was surprised to find he hadn’t followed me outside, however. Maybe he had a few things to say, himself. He was Kat’s friend too, after all. I hoped he didn’t say anything stupid enough to get himself fired.
At that thought, I almost turned around and went back in after him. But I had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated. So, instead, I just went and sat on the pit wall. I honestly wasn’t sure what to do after that.
If I wasn’t racing anymore… I didn’t know what I would do.
But I would find something.
It was worth it.
I sat there in an odd sort of anxious peace for a little while, but then my phone rang.
It was Tam.
Of course it was.
“Hello?” I answered, unsure of what she could possibly be calling about.
“Is Kat with you?” she asked worriedly. Bloody Christ she needed to stop asking me that question.
“No, she’s gone,” I said quietly. Sounding an awful lot like I had failed. Because I had. Everything I’d done was either too little, too late, or both.
“She sent signed paperwork over to me giving us both her stake in the company, making me CEO and Tam COO,” Bex chimed in from the background.
“And she lost the contract with Blackstone, but managed to talk Corning into keeping it and just not keeping her,” Tam added, sounding sad.
“She’s erasing herself, driver boy. Completely. Her software. Her company. Her position with Blackstone. All of it. She’s erasing herself because she thinks it’s best for everyone else. You’re the only thing she might not be erasing herself from,” Bex said fiercely. Well, she was wrong.
“Considering she didn’t even tell me any of this, or that she was leaving, apparently for forever, I don’t think that’s the right train of thought,” I said bitterly. I knew why she hadn’t told me. But it still hurt. Then again, I had just quit because of the situation.
She may have been trying to avoid that.
Like it wouldn’t happen if she was already gone.
Like I wouldn’t speak up about this utter SHITE either way.
“She didn’t tell you?” Tam asked tentatively.
“Nope. But I’ve got plenty of time to go after her,” I said nonchalantly. They were going to be pissed at me, I knew. But nothing compared to Kat. Fuck, she might actually claw my eyes out.
“Why…?” Bex asked warily.
“Well, I just quit,” I said simply.
All hell broke loose on the other end of the line. Once they calmed down, Tam spoke first.
“Don’t you think that maybe not doing that could’ve maybe been beneficial in getting her her job back?” she asked slowly. I snorted.
“Which Kat do you think would want this job back? To work for this team again? Because I can’t think of one,” I retorted. There was a long pause.
“The one that wants to make sure the software is integrated,” Tam said quietly.
“To protect you, you dumbass,” Bex added helpfully. I leaned back against the concrete so it was a little easier to breathe.
“She made it so that the software still gets used by the team. She won’t come back, not now,” I said in return. It was Bex’s turn to snort.
“Like she’d leave that in anyone’s hands but her own.”