Cole walks me into an open living room where a large sectional couch holds Paul, Griffin, and Ryan, who left me as soon as we made it inside. Ryan winks at me, but continues to lounge on the couch with the remote in his hand. I glance at the TV and see familiar teal and black. My hometown team, the San Jose Sharks, are playing. I smile to myself. This is a good sign.
“There she is, our new saving grace! Come here, Shelby, I’m so glad you came by.” Paul hops up and heads my way, pulling me into a hug like we are old friends. I guess when he goes to bat on my account and threatens to kick a driver to the curb, he can do anything he’d like.
I’m getting the feeling that this team is a little more touchy-feely than I’m used to. Dad and Henry aren’t super affectionate, saving the hugs for when they need to console or comfort. I’m not going to lie; it’s pretty awesome getting hugs from so many guys. There’s just one guy I don’t expect to ever hug me. He’s even pretending I don’t exist right now.
Griffin has his eyes trained on the TV, his shoulders hunched over as he leans his elbows on his solid thighs. Even without his direct attention, his presence is felt like the humidity of Georgia after a thunderstorm in July. It settles on me, wrapping me in a thick, wet blanket. I direct my focus back to Paul and the guys behind me.
“I heard these Wednesday night dinners are the stuff of legends. Does the food taste as good as it smells?”
Paul rolls his eyes back in ecstasy. “Oh, just wait until you’ve had Marny’s stuffed shells. She may be as American as apple pie, but she cooks like a mean Sicilian. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Paul beckons me past the sofa, pulling me right through Griffin’s line of sight. I can’t help that my eyes automatically latch on to his profile. It’s so rock solid and ruggedly handsome. My breath hitches slightly when his eyes meet mine. He stares right back at me, following my progress until I’ve made it safely into the kitchen and have a wall between us. There was no longing in his look, but also no hatred. If I had to pin down what I think he was feeling, it would be confusion. And that confuses me even more. I can handle anger or aggression, and I know how to work with longing and lust. But confusion? How do I even begin to make sense of that?
A short, curvy woman with a fiery red bob is standing in front of a stove full of pots and pans, steam making the hair around her porcelain face curl. She has a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her slightly upturned nose, and full cheeks that look like they were meant for smiling. She takes her eyes off the pot of marinara she is stirring for a moment and acknowledges my presence with a radiant smile that I swear lights up the room. I turn to look at Paul and find him staring at his wife in adoration.
“Way to go, dude,” I whisper to him. His eyes snap my way, and his grin stretches even wider.
“I know, right? How did I get so lucky? She cooks like a pro and she’s more beautiful than an angel.”
“I heard that, Paul. You don’t have to butter me up, honey. You will still get the biggest plate of food, even if I have to beat the boys off with a spatula. Hi, I’m Marny,” she says, her eyes leaving the pot of bubbling sauce to shine my way.
I want to curl up with this lady and have her tell me stories, or braid my hair, or talk to me about boys. She is the epitome of the perfect mother and someone I want in my life from now on. Just being near her makes my heart ache for my own mom, whom I lost so long ago. It makes me wonder where her own little ones are, because she obviously has this mom thing down pat.
“I’m Shelby. It’s so nice to meet you. Thanks for having me tonight, I really appreciate it.” I lean my arms on the counter near the fridge, not wanting to get in her way while she bustles around the small kitchen.
“Shelby, you are always welcome here. You’re part of the team now, which makes you family. Family has to stick together, and the best way to keep the team tight is to feed you all.” She dumps a huge pot of pasta into a colander in the sink before she eyes me and smiles. “I heard there was a little incident when you first got in that might have put you at odds with a certain gearhead. Well, I’ll have you know, I think what you did was so brave, and just what Griff needed to pop his inflated ego and make him focus on the season ahead.”
I shake my head and worry my cuticles. “I just hope we didn’t cause issues for the rest of the season. I came here with the purpose of helping and I’d hate to be a downer for the entire team.”
Marny scoops filling into a shell, her hands turning pink as she handles the hot pasta. “I think, more than anything, you showed Griff that he can’t get away with his bad behavior without facing the consequences. Paul has been trying to work with him on his outbursts. It’s unprofessional and scaring away sponsors who do not want to attach their brand to a reckless young guy who might slip up and make their company look bad. Griff is a good guy, but it hasn’t sunk in yet that how he acts on and off the track will have an effect on the team.” She continues to place her filled shells in a big pan while she talks to me. “We need sponsors so badly. Paul is happy to finance the team, but it’s become a strain since the shop slowed down. I’m just thankful that’s not our only source of income, but now it’s becoming a drain. Race cars are expensive. Paul is lucky I love him so much and don’t mind that he’s made this his business.” She smiles and shakes her head.
The way Marny opens up to me, a complete stranger, about their financial situation floors me. My family keeps stuff like this close, not wanting to appear weak or needy to anyone on the outside. When a casual observer looks at Jensen Performance, they see a booming business with no problems. Sure, that may be the case now, but we’ve had our struggles and been running lean, with no hope in sight. That’s when Dad or Henry would come up with a new build idea that would inevitably bring interest and grow our clientele.
I’ve learned from them that you can’t just sit still while you sink. You have to keep swimming, grabbing every life raft and using every handhold you find to pull yourself up and out of the water. Paul has no idea I ran a shop back home, but he’s going to get my family’s experience from me now. I have to help his shop. If they go under, so does my new job.
“Can I help you with anything? I’m not a great cook, but I can follow directions if you tell me what you need.”
“Oh, honey, thanks for the offer, but I want you to just hang out and relax. I’ve got these stuffed and will put them in the oven for a bit, so there’s nothing to do until they’re done. Why don’t you keep me company and tell me about yourself.”
Uh oh. “What do you want to know?” I really hope she doesn’t delve too deeply into my family. I can’t lie to her, even though I’d like to keep my family connections in the industry to myself.
“Where are you from?” Marny slips the big casserole dish into the oven and sets a timer. She smiles at me and wipes her hands on a dishtowel.
“I’m from the San Francisco Bay Area. What about you?”
“Oh, so are Griffin, Ezra, and Cole! That’s too funny.” I tilt my head in surprise as she smiles to herself and moves around the kitchen. “I’m from San Diego. Paul and I moved to Newport when we got married ten years ago.”
“Do you have any kids?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Oh, no. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards for us, but this team can act like children, so I get my fill.”
She laughs and grabs a stack of utensils, throwing them in the sink to wash. I push off the counter and grab a sponge to wash them for her. Poor thing. It must have sucked to realize she couldn’t have kids when she would have been the best mom. She smiles in thanks and puts a few dishes on the counter for me to wash next.
“How long have you been modeling?”
I scrub melted cheese off a spoon and enjoy this little slice of domesticity. It’s been so long since I’ve had a woman to work with like this. After my mom died of breast cancer when I was ten, Dad never dated or brought women home, so it was always just the three of us cooking and cleaning together.
“I fell into modeling about eight months ago. A friend of a friend was throwing a fundraiser and needed some last minute help for a fashion show. I had never modeled before, but it seemed like fun, so I decided to try it.”
“And was it fun?” Marny grabs a clean dish towel and dries the dishes after I rinse them.
I pause with soap bubbles balanced on my knuckles. I blow a few off and rinse the plate I’m holding. “Yeah, it was. So much so, that I decided I wanted to do it more. I’m kind of a tomboy, so it’s a nice change to play dress-up and get my hair and makeup done. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever done before and I like a challenge.”
“I could never do it. I would be so awkward in front of a camera, and I can’t change my lack of height or the fact that I love to eat.” She bumps my thigh with her soft hip, showing just how much of a height difference there is between my lean five foot six and her curvy five foot two. I still think she’s a freaking babe.
“But you’re beautiful. If you wanted to be a model, you could do it. Even knowing that, I don’t think modeling is for everyone. It’s definitely a tough industry. There is always criticism, even for the most beautiful or perfect looking people. Beauty is subjective; what works for one person doesn’t for another. You have to believe in yourself and not care what haters have to say.”
“Has that been the hardest part for you, the subjectivity of your audience?”
I consider her question and think back on my own experience. I shut the water off and dry my hands on the towel she holds out for me.
“Partly. You learn to wrap your brain around the fact that everyone is different so there’s always an audience for what you have to offer. It’s not so bad. Learning to pose and be comfortable in front of a camera has actually been the hardest thing for me to master. There’s always a nagging thought in the back of my brain that tells me this is stupid and I’m doing it all wrong.” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Thankfully I have been able to work with some really supportive and professional people who have taught me so much and given me a lot of confidence. Now I just pretend I know what I’m doing and usually it gets me by. My friend Bliss has a saying for that: ‘fake it till you make it.’ That’s been the true secret to making it through some of my more nerve-wracking shoots.”
“What’s been your hardest shoot?” Marny’s blue eyes sparkle as she looks up at me from her spot against the counter. I’m kind of surprised by her fascination. I’ve spent eight months not having anyone interested in my new hobby. Dad was downright hostile anytime I mentioned my shoots, and Henry thought it was dumb. My guy friends weren’t interested unless it was a more risqué shoot.
A particular shoot comes to mind and I grin at her. “One photographer wanted to do an underwater mermaid shoot. In November. He set up a shoot with me and a few other people to wear these tight mermaid tails and fins, and had a makeup artist paint scales on us and glue barnacles to our faces. The pool wasn’t heated and it was fifty degrees out for the shoot. I don’t think I could have held my breath long anyway, but my lung capacity combined with the frigid water made it nearly impossible for me to stay underwater. I kept popping to the surface, gasping for air and shivering. I think I took maybe two good photos from that shoot, and I look absolutely pained in both of them.”
Marny grimaces but laughs with me. “Oh my God, that sounds terrible. See, I couldn’t do that, even if you paid me. Do you have photos?”
I nod and pull my phone out of my pocket. I stuck it on silent before we walked in so my ringer wouldn’t bother anyone. There are a slew of notifications on my homescreen, the LED light flashing like crazy. “Whoa, I’ll have to find those pictures in a minute. My phone is blowing up right now.” I scroll through and see notifications from Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and emails from YouTube.
“What happened?” Marny asks, concern etching her pretty face.
“Nothing bad, just a video I posted going crazy.” I frown in concentration, but soon my brows jump up my forehead and a smile pulls my lips up. I turn toward the doorway to the living room. “Ryan, come here, quick!” I yell, bouncing on my toes as I wait impatiently.
“What’s going on?” Marny is bouncing with me, excitement dancing in her eyes without even knowing why I am so happy. I love this lady already.
Ryan rushes into the kitchen, followed by Cole, Ezra, and Paul. Even Griffin trails behind them. An unfamiliar lean guy with short, wavy dark blond hair brings up the rear. He must be Wyatt, the driver I haven’t met yet. They all give me expectant looks, except Griffin, who seems bored and put out by my interruption.
“The video we posted today has been picked up by Network D and was shared by the ADL. It’s going crazy, with over fifteen-thousand hits since we posted it a few hours ago. There are comments on every social media outlet. People all over the country want to know about Smoke and Mirrors.” I hold my phone out to Ryan, who takes it and scrolls through the comments on the YouTube video.
“Is this the shop tour you put up this morning?” Paul asks, leaning over Ryan’s shoulder to see.
“Um, no. It’s the second one we filmed. You know, the one I asked you about?”
Comprehension dawns on his face as he snatches the phone from Ryan’s hand, scrolling up and turning the phone into landscape mode so he can play the video. The guys crowd around him, looking over his shoulder at the small screen. I hear the sound of Beggin’ for Thread start as the video plays. Marny forces her way through the crowd of burly men to cozy up under Paul’s arm for a front-row view.
The sound of tires squealing echoes around the small kitchen, filled to the brim with testosterone and masculinity. I can just imagine the scent of the burnt rubber over the smell of cheesy shells and marinara sauce baking in the oven. A cold sweat prickles my scalp and coats my palms as I wait tensely for the video to end. My hands shake slightly in anticipation and my stomach turns with tension.
Will they like it? Will Wyatt hate me for touching his car? My smoky voice floating over the moody electro pop brings me back to the kitchen and the mass of guys now staring at me. My eyes flit from face to face, gauging their reactions quickly. Ryan and Paul have huge grins on their faces. Ezra and Cole are looking at me in fascination. Wyatt has a crooked grin raising one side of his face.
I finally glance at Griffin and see the daggers he is sending my way. Why his one negative reaction sends my heart plummeting into the vinyl beneath my feet while the rest of their seemingly accepting responses mist away is unknown. I shouldn’t let his feelings bother me. He already hates me. It’s not hard to see that he will dislike everything I do in the future. I should be able to shrug it off, but it stings like a dart to the neck, poisoning my excitement and draining me of confidence.
“Do you like it?” I ask, dragging my gaze away from Griffin’s glacial blue stare to find Paul’s warm brown eyes crinkled in happiness.
“Shelby, this is fucking wonderful. I can’t believe how much exposure this has brought S&M already. You did amazing.”
“Hey, language,” Marny admonishes, poking Paul’s chest with her finger. He leans down and kisses her nose in apology.
Voices break out at once, talking over each other and creating a cacophony of sound that is hard to distinguish.
“That was a killer burnout—”
“How much you wanna bet this finally brings in the sponsors—”
“The tires were roasting in the garage.”
“That powerslide was timed perfectly to line up with the sign—”
“That was fucking stupid and not something a model should be doing—”
“I think the limited slip differential needs to be checked out, but she managed it fine—”
“How’d you learn to do a braking drift—”
And so on until they finally grow quiet, expectant looks nailing me in place where I stand. A sudden urge to flee their scrutiny bubbles inside my gut, the hesitant smile melting away, replaced by fear.
“Why didn’t you tell us you
could drive?” Paul asks, extricating himself from the huddle and moving forward to hand my phone back to me.
“No one asked,” I answer, pocketing the phone that is once again lit up with new notifications. I’m going to have fun later scrolling through and dissecting every single comment and share.
It’s true about no one asking. Paul didn’t even ask for a résumé or references. He hired me upon seeing the portfolio I sent after I called him. It probably didn’t hurt that I had plenty of bikini shots and photos from my time as a Mas Boost Energy promo girl at events in there, making me perfect for what the team needed.
“Well, that was my bad, and you better spill now. What kind of driving do you normally do? Can you do more than a few donuts and burnouts?”
I swipe stray hairs off my face and behind my ears, unable to look away from Paul to the huddle of guys standing behind him. Marny edges away from the group, squeezing my hand as she passes me to get to the oven.
“I can do more than that, but I usually just drive straight, on quarter mile tracks for time. I grew up drag racing but found I like twisty roads better a few years ago. There’s more challenge to maintaining control at high speeds while executing technical moves without traction than just flooring an accelerator on a green light.”
“Well, I’d say I hit the jackpot with you. We can definitely capitalize on your experience behind the wheel and make it work for us.” Paul turns away, pulling out his phone and tapping away. He mumbles to himself, letting me off the hook. For now.
“She was freaking amazing, guys. I mean, I was scared shitless when she first told me what she wanted to do, but Paul said it was fine, so I went with it. When she shot out of the garage in a cloud of smoke, I knew it would be awesome. Even better than the fact that she can drive, she can edit the shit out of the video to add in the car’s specs and our info,” Ryan explains to the group. He looks as excited as if he were the one who did the driving and made the video.
Drift Heat Page 4
