by Amy Gallow
She opened her mouth to argue, but he beat her to it, placing his finger on her lips. “I have no choice,” he said. “Please don't make it an issue."
Lexie gnawed her lower lip, realizing nothing she said would sway Glenn. He was like her father, arrogant and insufferable, and her love held her hostage to his madness.
She changed the subject. It was all she could do.
"When will you be back in London?"
"A month probably. Salvatore's agreed to close down the racing team after this meeting. I need to go back to the factory and tie up the paperwork. If he dies while I'm there, I'll stay for his funeral."
"It's too long. I'll come to Italy.” She was bartering one concession for another. If he wanted to ride the Widow-Maker, she'd get her way.
"I'd like that."
The timbre of his voice struck a resonance in her spine causing a physical spasm. Their coffee mugs discarded, they embraced, Lexie thrusting as mindlessly against him as she had in their final moments on Lover's Walk. A very small part of her, buried deep in her mind, wailed in fear. She'd ceded too much power to this man. He spoke and her body took control.
He gentled her with kisses more sweet than demanding, whispering promises for the future, bargaining for delay as he nourished the kernel of common sense she wanted to ignore.
"I hate you."
She whispered the lie, afraid to say it loud enough for him to hear, lest he stop the sensual massage of her spine or rob her of the feel of his body against hers.
It wasn't fair. Glenn could think about the future, consider the wisest choices and plan what they should do while Lexie lost herself in the touch of his lips, the texture of his skin, and comfort of his arms.
The cell phone's chirp made her swear, particularly when she realized it was hers.
It was Toby Gerrard, the promotions manager. “Where are you?” His voice was harsher than customary.
"I'm showing Mr. Smallwood some of the attractions.” The truth always worked ... provided it was artistically presented.
"Oh.” He was immediately mollified. “That's good. I missed you at this morning's briefing."
"Mr. Smallwood's hotel is close to my home. I picked him up and brought him to the track.” Lexie was in no mood to be conciliatory.
"Good, good. Well done."
"Did you want me for anything?"
"Is the client coming tonight?” Lexie had forgotten the pre-race function at the track.
"I believe he has a social commitment for this evening. I'll ask.” She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Glenn. “What's happening about the pre-race function?"
"Raul, Angela, and the riders will attend. I won't."
Lexie uncovered the mouthpiece. “Mr. Bagnelli and the race crew will be there. Mr. Smallwood sends his regrets. He's committed elsewhere."
"Can you ring me later, when you're alone? I need to talk to you privately.” The man had dropped his tone unconsciously and Lexie had to strain to hear.
"Yes,” she said. “I will."
"Till then.” He ended the call.
"You in trouble?” Glenn's question caught Lexie off guard, her mind still sifting what she knew of the manager, trying to make sense of his behavior.
"No,” she said, shaking her head. “He just wanted to make sure I was looking after you."
Glenn appeared satisfied, turning away to gather the picnic things. “We'd best be getting back,” he said. “It's better that you can take your time."
The promotion manager's ears should have been shriveling to blackened nubs from Lexie's thoughts, but she nodded and helped Glenn pack away the last of the things.
They walked back to the car and then Lexie drove them to the VIP car park, reaching there fifteen minutes before Tony's ride.
"I'll meet you at the pits,” she said. “I'd like to call in at the staff block.” She'd guessed the reason for the call.
"Thank you for the lunch and the drive.” Glenn was oddly formal and Lexie glanced to see if he was teasing. His attention was beyond her and she turned to see the promotions manager approaching.
"Lexie, could I see you for a moment?"
"Certainly, Mr. Gerrard.” Lexie decided to be formal. It suited her mood. “You'll excuse me, Mr. Smallwood."
Glenn nodded. “I'll see you later. At the pits?"
"Yes.” Lexie turned to Toby Gerrard. “I won't be long?” Making it a question to force an answer.
"Only a minute or two.” He looked uncomfortable.
She was angry, not only because he'd interrupted her time with Glenn, but also because she knew why. A strike by the riders was a promoter's nightmare. When the Chief Scrutineer had failed to knock out the Widow-Maker, they'd gone looking for Glenn. Not finding him, they'd called her, hoping he was there too. Toby Gerrard wanted to quiz her, hoping for an angle they could use to prevent the Widow-Maker taking a place on the grid. They couldn't approach Glenn directly. He knew the regulations and would use them, just as they'd tried to do with the Chief Scrutineer.
"Do you want me to wait?” Glenn's words turned her back, and she could see the knowledge in his eyes. She wasn't the only one who could add two and two to get four.
"There's no need,” she said. “You go ahead and brief Tony. I'll join you shortly."
She endured a deliberate study of her face before Glenn nodded his satisfaction and turned away. She watched him go, making Toby wait.
"You've done very well.” Toby's opening gambit was predictable. “I knew you were right for a hard head like him."
"Cut the crap, Toby.” Lexie was angry enough to be crude. “What do you want?"
"Will he put the other bike on the grid?” Toby shrugged off her anger. His need was too great.
"Why didn't you ask him?"
"I'm asking you. We pay for your loyalty."
"You pay us to be decorative and soft-soap the clients,” she said. “Loyalty is bought with different coinage."
"Don't play the Prima Donna with me. You're not one of the riders."
A burst of understanding calmed Lexie's anger. “The riders won't speak to you.” She made it worse by smiling. “You're just an overpaid gofer to them.” She laughed. “Your boss will find out how little there is behind the front.” Toby Gerrard wasn't popular with the girls either, frequently trying to take advantage of the fresh faces. “Bugger off, Toby.” She turned and walked away, ignoring his muttered threats about future work.
She no longer cared. The rider's refusal to discuss the matter meant they were waiting for something to happen and logic said it involved Glenn. They were waiting to talk to him first and he'd been trying to avoid it by staying away from the track. The long lunch, the reluctance to return and her impression he was preparing for something explained.
She hurried after Glenn, searching for him in the crowd. The confrontation with Toby had only taken a minute or two. She should catch him before he reached the pit. She had to tell him she understood. Toby might not have the coinage to buy her loyalty, but Glenn did.
She missed him somehow, reaching the pit before him. “Have you seen Glenn?” she asked Angela. “I thought he was ahead of me."
"The rider's rep was looking for him earlier. They probably caught him on the way in.” Angela's expression confirmed Lexie's assumption. “They're worried about the Widow-Maker."
"What will happen?"
"He'll tell them not to worry and use tomorrow's practice to show them what it can do, just for Salvatore.” Angela's lips moved after she finished speaking, as if she were adding a private codicil, but Lexie couldn't make sense of it.
"Hi, everything ready?” Glenn had reached the pit.
Lexie stepped back. This was business. She'd wait until it was done and he was free.
"Lexie.” It was Raul coming into the pit from the back. “Let's get out of here. We're in their way.” He led her up to the hospitality tent. “You've been looking after him. Good! He needs it. My family have stolen ten years of his life for a dream and
then snatched it away."
"How's your father?” Lexie was not fooled by Raul's levity. This was a man torn in two. Part of him rejoiced at the ending of something he saw as madness, the rest grieved for his father's disappointment.
"Strangely cheerful. My sister says he's flirting with the nurses again. She was there when he spoke to our brave-hearted friend and swears a weight lifted from him when Glenn confirmed his instructions.” Raul was studying her. “Perhaps you can explain. Has anything been said?"
Lexie told him Glenn's intention to ride the Widow-Maker for the final practice and Angela's guess it was a demonstration for the other riders and for Salvatore's pride.
"Typical enough to be true,” was Raul's judgment. “Salvaging the situation and my father's pride. Glenn's loyalty is of the old fashioned type. He would have made a great King's Champion, defending the cause of his liege lord against all comers."
The image was too real for Lexie, reminding her how few King's Champions enjoyed a comfortable retirement. “What will he do afterwards?"
Raul understood. “He came to us as a rider, when my father still ran the team. Good, but never great. He has the tactical brain without the hunger to drive him to the top. My father recognized that and persuaded him to take over our team. He's well thought of in the industry. Most of them accept our lack of money limits his success. He gets more out of our riders than they could achieve on their own. His loyalty to us has held him back. There will be other teams for him, if he chooses. Even one of the majors."
"You sound doubtful.” Lexie was searching behind the words, sensing hidden thoughts.
"A man of loyalty seeks roots by binding himself to a cause. It's hard for him to change because loyalty is a basic need. I don't think Glenn can be happy without roots. My family met his need for ten years. He needs another cause to embrace.” Raul was serious, regretful; aware of a responsibility he couldn't meet. “He is my friend and I worry."
"I love him.” Lexie wasn't sure why she made the admission. It was an attempt to comfort Raul, perhaps. It just came out.
"Of course you do.” Raul was not fobbing her off. “Like the rest of us, you have no choice. It is his strength and his weakness. He draws us to him, makes us care."
Lexie was silent. She'd sought comfort and found responsibility. Being in love was more complex than she'd expected.
Lexie could watch Tony's ride. The senior rider was determined to redeem his earlier mistake and rode well, his times good enough to qualify him for the third line of the grid, his best effort yet.
"We'll give them time and then go down to congratulate him.” Raul stayed her automatic rise, when Tony turned into the pit lane after Turn Eleven. “He'll be too excited in the first few minutes."
She sat down again, her hands demurely in her lap, preparing herself. Glenn needed her as much as she needed him. Accepting it gave her strength and she would use that strength to make him happy, no matter what the future held.
They joined the celebration in the pit, Tony's hands replicating the movement of the bike as he described his best lap for the fifth time, lapsing into Italian when his English failed. Even Carlo was happy, his Spanish accent thickened by excitement. Lexie fetched drinks, listened with enthusiasm, fulfilled all her functions as the promoter's representative, and tracked Glenn obsessively with the part of her mind that was irrevocably his.
"A good result,” she said, when chance threw them together for a moment.
"Yes. He did well."
"You'll ride the Widow-Maker in the morning."
Glenn focused. “Yes,” he said. “A last practice.” There was the faintest emphasis on the last word, something Lexie might have missed in another man.
"Did you meet the rider's rep? Toby was worried.” She broached the subject, wanting him to know where her loyalty lay. “I told him to ask you, not me."
"Not the wisest way to treat your employer.” Glenn understood her message.
"He's a fool.” She dismissed Tony. “What did the riders want?"
"Reassurance,” Glenn said. “I gave it to them and they were satisfied.” He put his finger to her lips in a familiar gesture. “Not now. It's Tony's moment."
The celebration continued for another half hour before Glenn held up his hand for silence. “Don't stay late at the function. There's a morning practice session between ten and eleven and the qualifying session is between two and three. I want both riders here for them. Apart from the Widow-Maker, we'll be setting up for the race.” He signaled to Lexie and they left.
"To the hotel?” she asked as they reached the station wagon.
He nodded. “What time tonight?"
"I'll pick you up at seven."
Another nod and he slid into the passenger's seat, closed his eyes and relaxed.
Getting out of the car park took longer than the drive to Cowes and she was glad there were no distractions; every other motorist seemed tired and cranky, exhausted by a day of high noise levels and excitement. At the hotel, he made no move to kiss her, but she understood his motives, even if she didn't agree.
"I'll see you at seven,” he said, stepping away from the car.
"At seven,” she confirmed and drove off, watching him in the rear-view mirror until she turned the corner.
Sandra greeted her arrival with a smile. “Picnic go well?"
"Great. We didn't get to eat everything because they called us back to the track, but he said to thank you.” Guilt made Lexie embellish the story.
"I'd have been surprised, so soon after lunch. I went overboard because I wanted him to have a choice.” Sandra had taken the basket and was unpacking the untouched food. “He's one of those people it's a pleasure to help."
"I know what you mean."
"I thought you might.” Sandra's smile was fond, maternal, knowing...
"You've guessed.” Lexie wasn't surprised. Sandra's hints had been less than subtle.
"We weren't guessing,” Sandra said. “In the beginning, you made it plain you were here on sufferance, making excuses to be elsewhere all the time. When it wasn't surfing, it was the job at the track. When you went out with him the first night, it was the first time I recognized my daughter and you were no longer a stranger from London. You confirmed it the next night by offering to help with the table and even your dad understood you were home again. Glenn came highly recommended, not by other people, but by the change he made in you."
"I love him.” Lexie repeated the words she'd used to Raul.
"You were never one for half measures. What does he think about it?” Sandra's question was tender.
"He's worried about my reputation. He doesn't want to shock our friends or embarrass you.” Lexie wasn't sure how that sounded, so she tried to amend it. “The hotel manager gave him chapter and verse about me and Jack Welch added to it. Glenn doesn't want to confirm their opinions ... Damn! This is coming out wrong. He's worried about me, not them."
"I understood the first time.” Sandra was laughing. “He's protecting you. Always a good sign."
Kieran Douglas walked in on that. “What's a good sign?"
"Your daughter's reputation has another protector.” Sandra was still laughing.
"It's gone that far,” he said. “I knew I'd like him. I said as much earlier."
"Who to?” Lexie couldn't imagine why her father would have spoken of Glenn to anyone.
"Some of my cronies at the RSL. We were talking about the noise coming from the track. I said you were working there and your boss was a nice bloke.” His tone was offhand.
"He's not my boss. He's a client.” Lexie wasn't entirely satisfied.
"Does it matter?” He wasn't going to be drawn.
Lexie regarded him suspiciously. The men he called his “RSL cronies” controlled most of the real wealth on the Island and all of them had contacts far beyond. Her father's story could be true, but it could as easily be a cover-up for some scheme.
She'd have to keep an eye on him.
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Chapter 7
Glenn was waiting outside the hotel and slipped into the passenger seat with a smile. “You look great!” he said. “Drive off quickly before I lose control and kiss you."
"I'm not going anywhere until you do,” she countered. “This nonsense has gone far enough."
"We might never get to your father's party.” The warning was belied by a broad grin.
"Stop stalling and kiss me."
He did.
"That's better. I'll give you eight out of ten for that one. You need to practice more."
"Later,” he bargained.
"Not too much later.” She relented and drove off.
In spite of most guests being able to walk from their homes, only the courtyard had space for the station wagon. Tommy had kept it clear.
"You might have to sleep here, or walk back to the hotel,” he warned with a Cheshire cat grin.
"I can handle my own romance.” Now she'd told her parents, Lexie saw no point in being coy.
"Watch it, Glenn. She's hospitalized more than one.” Tommy ducked away from Lexie's round-arm swat.
"Behave yourself, Tommy.” It was Sandra, from the patio above. “Glenn's my guest."
"Does Dad know about this?"
"Yes.” Kieran Douglas joined his wife. “Stop teasing your sister. Glenn, you have my permission to dunk him in the fountain if he gets too far above himself."
"Thank you. I think I'll just enjoy the party.” Glenn was relaxed, Tommy's horseplay ignored.
"The perfect guest.” Kieran had the last word.
Glenn's apparent adoption by her family had its disadvantages. He was introduced to arriving guests, involved in conversations and dragooned into helping rearrange furniture, leaving Lexie to twiddle her thumbs or help her mother. It wasn't how she planned the night.
"Hi,” she said as they met in the hallway.
"Hi, yourself.” He waved Tommy on with a promise to catch up.
