Revved

by Samantha Towle

  “It’s not your fault.” I shrug. She’s a stark raving bitch all on her own.

  “Yeah, but she’s here with me. And she had no right speaking to you the way she did. It won’t happen again.”

  I don’t care how she spoke to me. I just care that she’s here with you. I hate that she’s here with you.

  Of course, I don’t say that. I just shrug again and say, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “When it comes to you, everything matters.”

  His words knock the air from my lungs.

  I want to know what that means. And I don’t.

  God, I’m so screwed up.

  Dipping my chin, I stare down at my moving feet. “How long have you known her?”

  “Not long.”

  At least he didn’t know her before he slept with me. Still, I don’t know whether to feel better or worse at that fact.

  “I met her after I got back to the UK.”

  When you left Barcelona and me behind. “Right.”

  “I didn’t invite her here.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “She just kind of invited herself, and Dad was there when she said something about coming. He thought the press she would bring would be positive—you know, with me actually being with just one woman for once.”

  He laughs, and it’s an uncomfortable sound. I really don’t like it or any of what he’s telling me.

  “And…I guess I just went along with it.”

  I stare at him blankly. “Why are you telling me this?”

  He blows out a breath, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. “I don’t know.” He lifts his shoulders, looking helpless.

  We’ve reached the main road now, and luck is on my side because I see a cab with its light on approaching. I put my hand out to flag it down.

  The cab pulls up, and I reach for the door handle, but I pause.

  For the past two weeks, I’ve wanted to apologize to Carrick for what I said to him, and this might be the only chance I have.

  My heart starts to beat in my chest, my fingers trembling, as I turn back to him. “Carrick…what I said in Barcelona about my job and Amy and Charlotte, I shouldn’t have said it. It was a shitty thing to say.”

  “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

  “Well, still…I am sorry.” I let out a light sigh. “The worst thing is, I don’t know why I said it because that wasn’t what was at the forefront of my mind at that moment.” Not losing you was.

  Gripping the handle, I stop myself from saying any more. No matter what, I don’t think anything I can say will get us back to where we were before that night.

  “Anyway, thanks for walking me. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I climb in the cab, closing the door behind me, leaving Carrick where he is standing on the street.

  BECAUSE I’VE BEEN AVOIDING CARRICK and his pop princess, I didn’t go out on Friday night even though Petra had begged me to. I stood fast and stayed at the hotel with room service and Jason Bourne for company. I was in the mood for a kick-arse movie.

  As it turns out, it was a good job I hadn’t gone out because Carrick and the pop princess were there. Petra has taken a real dislike to Sienna purely because of the way she’d treated me. But Petra did say Sienna had been fine with her—a bit snooty, but nothing how she had been with me.

  Seems like her ultimate bitch is reserved solely for me. Or maybe she heeded what Carrick had said to her.

  Petra did tell me that Carrick had barely spoken to Sienna all night, preferring to drink with the boys. She also said he’d pulled her aside and asked where I was. She said he’d looked disappointed when she told him that I wasn’t coming out. She made some white lie up for me, saying I was just feeling a little unwell, so he wouldn’t think I hadn’t gone out because of him.

  See? This is why I love this girl.

  I didn’t see Carrick much yesterday. I kept busy with work, and I didn’t see him until it was time to come down for qualifying. I did wish him luck as I handed him his helmet. But that was the extent of our contact.

  I hate the way things are between us. I just don’t know how to get them back, so I’ve decided to give up trying.

  I figure it’s for the best anyway.

  I’m just counting the minutes until this weekend is over, so I can get away from them both.

  But, mostly, I’m counting down the minutes until this day is over.

  It’s race day, the day I’ve been dreading since I arrived here.

  Petra and I did go out last night. She wasn’t taking no for an answer two nights in a row, and as it turned out, Carrick was at some sponsorship thing. The drivers always have loads of them that they have to attend throughout the racing season.

  So, Petra and I went out for a few drinks with the boys, and then we broke off on our own to go have some girlie fun.

  And we definitely had a lot of fun, judging by the stonking headache, dry mouth, and aching body I’ve just woken up to.

  “Ugh,” I groan, rolling over, feeling like there’s a pneumatic drill going off in my head. I blink open my eyes that seem to have lost all moisture, and immediately, I close them again, squinting at the sliver of light coming in from the blinds.

  I hear a similar deathly sound coming from Petra’s bed.

  “Fuck,” she moans. “I’m dying. Actually dying.”

  “Same here. And I’m blaming you,” I grumble. “It’s race day. I’ve got a tongue like sandpaper, and I can’t currently see straight.”

  “We’ll get some coffee down you, and you’ll be fine.”

  I turn my head on the pillow and give her a look. God, that hurts. “I’ll need a gallon of coffee to sort this out.” I point to my head.

  “Greasy fry up and coffee, and you’ll be golden.”

  “Ugh, don’t talk about fried food right now!” I cover my mouth with my hand, feeling sick. “I’m never going out drinking with you again,” I utter between my fingers.

  “Hey, don’t blame me. It was your idea to drink Sambuca.”

  “Was it?” I give her a look of surprise.

  “Yep.”

  Images of last night start to come back to me—us doing shots, singing karaoke, dancing on tables.

  Ah, fuck.

  “Oh God…” I sigh. “Did I make an arse of myself last night?”

  “A little bit of an arse.” She chuckles. “But so did I, so you’re not alone, and it wasn’t like anyone we knew was there. But you had a good time, and it took your mind off of you-know-who and the pop princess.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I mumble.

  “Look, Andi.” She rolls onto her side, facing me. “I know you said that what happened with Carrick was a one-time thing…but I just wonder if you said that because you know what he’s like, not because it’s what you wanted. Because it’s bothering you an awful lot, him being here with her.”

  “It’s hardly bothering me at all.”

  “You hid behind a tree yesterday, so you wouldn’t have to talk to them.”

  “You saw that?” I cringe.

  “Yeah, I saw that.”

  I let out a sigh. “It’s just…sure I like him, and I know we could never be together. Yet knowing all that, it still—”

  “Hurts to see him with another woman.”

  “Yeah,” I exhale, rubbing at my dry eyes.

  “Why could you and him never be together?”

  “Because he’s a man-whore.”

  She chuckles. “I don’t know. I think, with the way it went down with you two and from what you told me how Carrick behaved…maybe he did want more with you.”

  “I doubt it. Irrespective of that, I don’t get involved with drivers anyway.” I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t.”

  She blows out a breath. “You can tell me, you know. You can trust me. I won’t tell anyone. I know you might think I’m a gossip, but I can keep things private that truly matter.”

  I s
tare at her and suddenly find myself in a rare moment of honesty. “I lost someone I loved to Formula One. He died in an accident on the track.”

  “I’m sorry, Andi.”

  “It was a long time ago.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter, but it’s all that matters.

  “Is that why you work for Formula One? To somehow still be close to this person?”

  Petra is more perceptive than I give her credit for.

  “Partly. I studied engineering at university because I wanted to learn how to build better engines. People are always going to race, but I want to be able to help make a car be as safe as it can be before they take it out on the track. Also, I work here because I love it. Cars are all I’ve ever known. I grew up with my head under the hood of a car.” I chuckle, a hint of sadness in it. “Yeah, I guess being here, doing this, does make me feel close to my dad.”

  I realize my slip up immediately, and I freeze cold.

  “It was your dad who died?”

  I flash a panicked glance at her, suddenly feeling like I can’t breathe.

  “It’s okay, Andi,” she reassures in a soothing voice. “I won’t say anything to anyone. I just—why do you keep it a secret?”

  I let out a long sigh, and then I turn to her. “I keep it a secret because my dad is—was…William Wolfe.”

  “Oh.” She looks taken aback. “Oh. Fuck. Andi…why didn’t you tell me? But wait—” She shakes her head like she’s clearing it. “Didn’t he…your dad…didn’t he…die…here in Monaco?”

  “Yes.” I lie back, staring at the ceiling. I can feel tears pooling in my eyes, so I suck in a breath, keeping them at bay.

  “Jesus…Andi. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through being here, especially with today being race day, and having to deal with all the Carrick and Sienna crap.”

  “I just didn’t want people to know and think that Uncle John gave me the job because of who my dad is, so I kept it to myself.”

  “Hmm…I guess I can understand that.”

  I look across at her again. “Petra, here, only my Uncle John knows that William is my dad, and I want it to stay that way.”

  “You can trust me. Anything you tell me stays here.” Pressing her lips together, she does the lock-and-throw-away-the-key action over her mouth

  “I appreciate it.” I smile softly at her.

  “Gotta say, you make a whole lot more sense to me now—with the whole not-dating-drivers thing.”

  I let out a sigh. “When you see your dad die on the track and then watch your mother go through the pain of losing him…” I turn my head and look at her. “I don’t want that for myself.”

  “But you do like Carrick…right?”

  “Sure, I like him. But nothing can ever come of it.”

  “I understand, considering what happened with your dad…but Carrick isn’t your dad, Andi.”

  My eyes meet hers. “But he is. Besides the whoring around—well, my dad was a bit of a one before he met my mum—Carrick is everything he was. And that’s what everyone says about Carrick. He’s the next Wolfe. Everything about Carrick—from the early rise to Formula One to his recklessness and easy attitude to the way he drives…there’s a hell of a lot about Carrick that’s similar to my dad.”

  “But it doesn’t mean that he’s destined for the same fate.”

  I cringe at her choice of words.

  “Jesus…sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m usually fine with this stuff. I mean, it’s been fourteen years. But today is just a weird day for me, is all. I’m more sensitive than usual.”

  There’s a slight silence.

  Then, she says, “Carrick will be fine today. You know that, right?”

  I close my eyes, blowing out a breath. “Yeah.”

  “Look, just playing devil’s advocate here, but it clearly worries you when Carrick races, and you like the guy, so whether you’re with him or not, you’re still going to worry, right?”

  I open my eyes and look at her. “Yeah, but there’s a difference between worrying over a friend than over a boyfriend—or worse, someone you love.”

  She stares at me for a long moment. I can see her wheels turning behind her eyes.

  Lying on her back, she puts her hands behind her head. “Do you think the pop princess will be at the track today?”

  “It’s race day, so I would expect her to be there.”

  Sienna hasn’t been at the track at all since she arrived in Monaco, which has been perfect for me because I’ve been able to hide there.

  “She’s such a bitch,” Petra mutters.

  A smile touches my lips, and I turn on my side to face her. “You know you don’t have to dislike her just because I do.”

  She frowns, clearly displeased by what I said. “I dislike her because she was a bitch to you—and she makes crappy music.”

  I laugh at the expression on her face. “Well, I appreciate your support.”

  I fall onto my back. Lifting my hands to my face, I look at them. They’re all rough and dry. I screw my face up.

  I bet Sienna’s hands are beautiful and soft.

  Ugh. I really need to stop comparing myself to her.

  Letting my thoughts escape me though, I say, “I wonder why he’s with her. I mean, I get that Sienna’s beautiful, but she’s so bloody mean.”

  Petra lets out a laugh. “He’s not with her, Andi. He’s just shagging her. Sorry.” She grimaces at my anguished face. “But come on, you must see it.”

  “See what?”

  She sits up in bed, wrapping her arms around her knees, and I turn back onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow.

  “Aside from the longing looks Carrick gives you when he thinks no one is looking, have you actually taken a good look at Sienna?”

  “He doesn’t give me longing looks.” I stick my tongue out at her. “And unfortunately, yes, I have seen her.”

  “And you don’t see it?”

  “See what?” I’m getting frustrated now.

  “How alike you both look.”

  “I do not look like her! God! Thanks a lot!” I huff.

  Sure, Sienna is beautiful, but she’s so ugly on the inside that it mars her exterior and in no way do I resemble someone like her.

  Petra lets out a sound of frustration, shaking her head. “I don’t mean that you’re like the mega bitch. I just mean that you look incredibly similar.”

  “Come on, Petra. I’m not exactly standout-looking. I have brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Sure, you’re not standout-looking with your mile long legs, supermodel body, and stunning face. Granted, I hate that bitch Sienna, but she is beautiful, like you. She has exactly the same attributes as you.”

  “As do a million other girls.”

  “Yeah, sure, because, of course, all women look like supermodels.” She stretches out her legs, indicating the shortness of them in comparison to mine, causing me to laugh.

  “Just think about it. Carrick went back to the UK, seriously pissed off with you because you blew him off, and when he comes back, he brings your look-alike with him. Coincidence? Me thinks not.” She taps her finger to her head.

  “Maybe he just has a type,” I challenge.

  “The only type Carrick has is pretty with a vagina that’s open for business. But now, I’m starting to think that maybe now he has just one type—Andi Amaro.”

  “And I think you might still be drunk.” I show her the middle finger.

  Letting out a loud laugh, she sticks her tongue out. “Deny it all you want, but deep down you know I have a point.” Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she gets to her feet. “Right, I’m hitting the shower.”

  I watch her disappear into the bathroom. Then, I pull the cover over my head, trying not to think about the last thing she just said, but unfortunately, those words are swimming around like little sharks gnawing away at my brain.

&n
bsp; Three hours later, after a mountain of croissants and coffee, I’m still feeling like crap.

  Even though my mood was already rubbish due to the hangover, a phone call with my mother before breakfast left me feeling emotional. Today might not be the exact date of when my dad died, but this particular race has always been a difficult one for us.

  So, I was already feeling crappy when I had to bear witness to Carrick and the pop princess kissing outside the hotel as I was leaving with Petra.

  It hurt badly, seeing him with her, like someone punched in through my chest and was squeezing the life out of my heart. I know it was only harder to see because my head is in a weird place today.

  But his body language did look kind of off. He seemed uncomfortable to be kissing her in public. His hands were on her arms, not around her, and he didn’t look to be pulling her closer, more like he was trying to push her away. It’s not that I was examining them or anything or that I’ve spent all morning breaking it down into microscopic details in my head.

  Anyway, what do I know? I’m probably just seeing what I need to see at the moment.

  He must really like Sienna for her to be here, irrespective of what he said about just going along with it for the publicity. Carrick’s not one to do anything he doesn’t want to.

  The next morning after the bar incident, Ben did tell me that when Carrick had gotten back to the bar, he and Sienna had had a massive row. Apparently, he’d reamed her out for the way she’d spoken to me. Ben said she’d tried to downplay it, said Carrick was making a big deal out of nothing. Then, Carrick had told her if she couldn’t behave herself that she could just fuck off back home. Ben said she’d started crying, right there in front of them all, saying she was sorry and that she would apologize to me—which I’m still waiting for. Ben said it was just really uncomfortable, and that Carrick and Sienna had left soon after.

  Probably to go have make-up sex.

  Ugh! I have to stop having these torturous thoughts. I’m going to drive myself insane if I don’t.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Petra’s voice comes from behind me.

  I swivel on my stool to see her holding a steaming mug in her hand.

  “I brought you coffee.”