Faster Harder

by Colleen Masters

  “Go ahead and justify it all you want,” Bex laughs, “I’m not judging you.”

  “I wonder where Team McClain is staying,” I muse, “Or where I could conveniently run into Harrison without it looking like I’m stalking him.”

  “Well, you would be stalking him. Let’s call a spade a spade,” Bex says, “But anyway, that part’s easy.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Hello,” Bex says, “Social media whiz over here, remember? Give me five minutes, and I’ll find your lover boy for you.”

  I watch as Bex whips out her smart phone and taps away at the screen, the tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth. I sip the last of my booze, enjoying the smoky taste as it coasts down my throat. In no time at all, Bex lets out a victorious cry.

  “Got him!” she says, beckoning me over to her phone.

  I peer down at the screen and see that Bex has pulled up the Twitter account of Team McClain. One of the PR girls must be documenting the tournament for the fans at home. There’s a picture at the top of the team’s feed, featuring the grinning Harrison and Andy, posing in front of this very hotel. The caption on the photo reads, “Nice Digs, Team McClain :D Hello, Barcelona!”

  “I never would have thought of searching their Twitter account,” I say.

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Bex smiles, “Now you know. Harrison’s staying right here in the same hotel as us. How very convenient for you.”

  “Kind of,” I allow, “I’ll be able to ‘accidentally’ run into him more easily. But if people see us talking...”

  “It’s not like you’re going to mount him in the middle of the lobby,” Bex says, “And anyone who gets annoyed with you for having a conversation with a nice young man like Harrison needs to get their head checked. You’re totally in the clear, Siena.”

  But despite Bex’s assurances, I know that talking to Harrison again isn’t going to be as simple as all that. I need to proceed carefully, or risk bringing the wrath of my entire team down on my head. Charlie already knows that Harrison has a more-than-friendly interest in me. The last thing I need is for my dad and brother to hatch their own suspicions. I’m not even sure that I’m willing to start anything up with Harrison, just by virtue of the fact that he drives for McClain. At the end of the day, teams have each others’ backs. But an affair? That might be pushing it.

  A knock on the door makes me jump a foot in the air.

  “Are you decent?” says Enzo from the other side of the door.

  I’m a little let down to hear my brother’s voice. That’s ridiculous, of course. What, was I expecting Harrison to pop over for visit or something?

  “As decent as we’ll ever be,” I answer, swinging open the door.

  Enzo and Charlie stroll across the threshold. I can tell they’re already a few beers in, and I don’t blame them. It was a trying day for everyone, after all.

  “Hey there girls,” Enzo says, flopping down onto my bed, “How’s tricks?”

  “You guys want to come down and grab a bite with us?” Charlie asks.

  “I guess we could stand to be seen in your company,” I joke, pushing Enzo’s dirty boots off my comforter. “Why don’t you give us a few minutes to get dressed and we’ll meet you down there. How’s nine o’clock?”

  “Beautiful,” Enzo says, “We’ll wait for you at the bar.”

  The boys leave us to scrub off the race track grime and dress up a little. Bex’s room is right next door to mine, so we’re free to come and go as we please. I’ve always enjoyed getting a little dolled up at the end of a long day. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been such a workaholic, but putting on a nice dress and some tasteful makeup has always seemed like a treat in and of itself. I choose a sleek backless dress in a rich emerald shade for tonight. The beautiful green is an open homage to Ferrelli’s racing colors. Despite my attraction to Harrison, my ultimate loyalties are all sewn up. I want him to be able to see that from a mile away, if he’s even looking at all.

  I let my hair hang in loose waves and smear on some plum colored lipstick. Satisfied with my beautification efforts, I go to fetch Bex. As ever, she’s chosen a much flashier ensemble than mine—a leopard print crop top and black high-waisted mini skirt.

  “Damn, Bex,” I say, “Trying to make the rest of us look bad?”

  “As if anyone could ever make you look bad, Lazio,” she says. “Now come on, let’s go. A little airplane bottle of Jack is hardly going to get me through the night.”

  We make our way down to the bustling hotel restaurant and bar, Encrucijada. One look at the assembled patrons puts my mind at ease about being overdressed. Gorgeous, glowing celebrities of the F1 circuit mill about in their Friday night best while lesser-known but still impeccably styled team members hang about. The whole joint is a who’s who of the racing scene, or at least the younger faction. Older gurus like Gus and my dad have retired to their rooms for strategizing and slumber, but all the youngsters are out and ready for whatever twists the night might take.

  I spot Enzo and Charlie at the bar at once and lead Bex in their direction. I have to hand it to them, my boys clean up nice. Enzo’s nailing the whole dark and brooding thing while Charlie rocks his signature Cape Cod meets Roman Holiday style. I’m proud as ever to be in their company, even if I’m secretly keeping an eye out for another man altogether. Bex and I settle down on either side of our companions and find ourselves furnished with drinks at once—a margarita for me, and a rum and coke for Bex.

  “Aw, how sweet!” Bex coos, “You chaps know my drink already.”

  “It’s my job to know,” Charlie replies, “If anyone’s going to be buying drinks for the ladies of Team Ferrelli, I’d prefer it to be me.”

  I lift my frosty drink to my lips, ignoring Charlie’s none too subtle jibe. He’s still smarting from my dismissal last night, but I’m not about to open that can of worms again.

  “Charlie takes his guardian angel role very seriously,” Enzo laughs, “Me, I do my best. But I find that I’m easily...distracted in these kind of situations.”

  I watch as my brother’s eyes follow the figure of a perfectly proportioned and scantily clad woman making her way across the bar. Enzo’s been a shameless ladies man for as long as I can remember, but he tends to be subtle, so none of us mind too much.

  “By all means,” I say, “If you’re going to ditch us for the sake of getting tail, you might as well do it now.”

  “Thanks for understanding, Sis,” he smiles, kissing me on the forehead.

  In a heartbeat, Enzo’s vanished, tracking down the woman that managed to snag his eye. If only I had an ounce of Enzo’s confidence where the other sex was concerned.

  “Lucky me,” Charlie says, “Here at the bar with two beautiful women? I’ll be the envy of the entire tournament.”

  “That is, if we deign to stay here with you,” Bex winks.

  “I can only hope,” Charlie replies, taking a long swig of his drink. “How are you guys holding up after this morning? That was a rough scene. I hope it didn’t upset you too much.”

  Bex opens her mouth to respond, but I don’t hear a word she says. Because at that moment, my eyes align on a welcome and forbidden sight.

  Harrison Davies has arrived.

  He strolls into the bar attended by the same posse as the night before. Andy and Cora enter arm in arm while Sara and Shelby flank Harrison like diminutive body guards. But the rest of the party might as well be invisible—I’ve only got eyes for Harrison.

  The subject of my ardent gaze has neglected to alter his uniform of perfectly fitted jeans and a classic black tee shirt. His clear blue eyes scan the restaurant and bar, sizing up the crowd that has gathered. As he shoves a hand through his dirty blonde hair, those blue orbs alight on me. With a wicked smile, he gives me a wink. I have to steady myself against the bar to keep from toppling over there and then.

  “Siena?” Charlie says, drawing me out of my reverie.

  “Wh-what?” I stam
mer.

  “I asked if you were hungry,” Charlie says.

  “Oh...No,” I reply. Not for anything but Harrison Davies, if I’m being honest.

  Charlie and Bex follow my gaze and watch as the members of Team McClain make their way into the bar. At once, Harrison is beset with admirers, and a stab of protectiveness surprises me. I’m not the jealous type, but there’s something that really irks me about the throng of people descending on Harrison. Do they even think of him as anything other than a celebrity, some kind of untouchable god? He’s a person, with anxieties and fears and dreams, just like the rest of us. Or at least...that’s what I suspect. Hell, maybe I’m just fooling myself into thinking we had some kind of deep connection last night. Maybe he is as invincible as everyone else seems to believe. I suppose there’s only one way to find out. I have to see him again. Alone.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” Charlie grumbles, glaring at Harrison as he walks across the restaurant.

  “What’s your problem with him?” I ask, “So he’s a good racer. Is that a crime or something all of a sudden?”

  “I just think the whole secret weapon thing is a shady move on McClain’s part,” Charlie says, “It’s not playing fair, keeping him all cloistered away from us while he trained. Part of this sport is knowing the other drivers in your race, that’s how strategy is built.”

  “I know how strategy is built, Charlie,” I say shortly, “And frankly, I think McClain has a pretty great one with Harrison.”

  “First name terms, huh?” Charlie asks.

  “Look,” I say, “You might be settled in your little macho rut of acting like an asshole to anyone who’s halfway decent at this sport, but I’m not. Why don’t you put on your big girl panties and start acting like an adult.”

  “Where are you going?” Charlie asks as I stand up from the bar.

  “I’m going to congratulate my friend on a great preliminary, and offer my condolences for Naughton,” I say, “You got a problem with that?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company,” Bex tells Charlie, laying a calming hand on his arm, “Send McClain our best.”

  My heart begins to pound against my ribcage as I weave through the tightly-packed bar. Harrison and his crew have settled down in a booth in the far corner of the space, away from prying eyes. Perfect. I walk past the McClain booth, pretending to be headed somewhere else entirely. But in no time, they’ve spotted me on their own.

  “Look who it is!” Andy calls as I approach.

  “Hey Siena!” Cora says, beckoning me over to their table.

  Harrison smiles knowingly as I approach. I wonder if he’s seen through my little ruse already? I smile back gamely and scoot into the booth beside Sara.

  “Hey you guys,” I say, “Glad I ran into you.”

  “So are we,” Sara says. I ignore Shelby’s disinterested expression and accept the warm greeting anyway.

  “Quite a day for McClain,” I go on, “I’m so sorry about what happened to Naughton. Are you all holding up OK?”

  “It’s sweet of you to ask,” Cora says, “Everyone’s a little shaken up, but we’re hanging in there. It’s the risk all the drivers take, you know?”

  “Do I,” I say, my mind straying back to my own family, “I can’t imagine having one of our drivers get seriously injured like that. What’s Naughton’s status?”

  “He’s pretty banged up,” Andy tells me, “But he’s no longer in critical condition. He’ll pull through, but he’s out of the tournament for sure.”

  “Which means that McClain’s got a new superstar, eh?” I say, looking pointedly at Harrison.

  “So it would seem,” he says, “Personally, I would have preferred to see Naughton happily retired before I took his place, but things don’t always pan out the way we’d prefer.”

  Like getting all hot and bothered over a bad boy race car driver who happens to be your brother’s competition? Yeah. I think I know the feeling.

  “Your drink is looking a little empty there, Siena,” Harrison goes on, “Shall we do something about that?”

  “Sure,” I say, sidling back out of the booth.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting some shut eye?” Shelby asks pointedly, “I’m sure you’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. The media’s going to want to know all about how your driver is taking Harrison’s success.”

  A white hot charge of anger gushes through me. It’s all I can do to keep my tongue in check. I don’t know what this girl has against me, but her attitude is getting on my last frayed nerve.

  “Our driver is a professional, and so am I,” I tell her, “It’s an important attribute to cultivate, professionalism. Just a little tip.”

  Andy cackles as I turn away from the McClain table. I can practically feel the daggers in Shelby’s gaze as I walk away. Harrison lays a hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowded room toward the bar. And though his touch is all I want in the world right now, I have to keep my distance from him.

  “I don’t mean to be forward,” Harrison says, surprised by my flinching away, “Well, that’s a bloody lie, actually. I always mean to be forward.”

  “This isn’t exactly the most private environment,” I point out.

  “Are we looking for somewhere private?” Harrison asks, “I, for one, am completely in favor of that course of action. Who knew Italian American girls were so insatiable?”

  “Oh, good. Sweeping generalizations. Precisely the way to a girl’s heart,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Listen—why don’t you get me another drink and meet me somewhere we can talk. Alone.”

  “Your place or mine?” he smiles.

  “Neither,” I say, “There’s a path down to the beach behind the hotel. I’ll meet you there. OK?”

  “I’ve never heard of anything more OK in my life,” Harrison says.

  I dart away from him, my face flushed. Every single word out of those full, gorgeous lips gets me more riled up. How can I be so turned on and so flustered by the same person? This whole going after someone I actually dig thing is quite the trip.

  Making sure to stay way out of Charlie’s range of vision, I beat a quick path through the bar and out onto the open terrace beyond. I skirt past wickedly attractive men and women, the cream of the F1 crop, and finally start along the sandy path that leads down to the beach. The sea opens up before me, a deep black abyss in the dark of night. During the day, the water is a clear, cheerful blue; but with only the stars and moon hanging above, and the reflected light of innumerable bars and hotels along its shore, it’s inky black.

  I wrap my arms around my waist, thankful for the warm breeze off the water. The salty spray whips my curls, and I close my eyes to enjoy a moment of relative quiet. These tournaments are so chaotic, so noisy and crowded, that this rare moment of peace is something very special. Now if only my racing heart would quiet down, too.

  The soft shuffle of footsteps in the sand catches my attention. I peer over my shoulder and see Harrison Davies making his way toward me on the beach. He’s got a fresh drink in each hand, and offers me one with an endlessly charming smile.

  “It’s dangerous, you know,” he says, “Standing out here, looking as beautiful as you do. Someone with less than noble intentions could wander by at any time.”

  “Someone like you?” I ask.

  “I’m hurt!” he says with a theatrical pout, “My intentions are as noble as they come. I intend to spend as much time with you as possible during this tournament of ours, and make you very glad of it along the way.”

  My imagination flashes through a dozen fantasies of Harrison making me glad. I have to wrestle my mind away from thoughts of his ripped, naked body on mine and back to the present moment.

  “About that, Harrison...” I begin.

  “Oh dear,” he says, sipping his cocktail, “That’s never a good start. It seemed like you enjoyed my company enough last night. Did I misinterpret something between us?”

  “Not at all,” I say, layin
g a hand on Harrison’s sculpted arm, “Last night was...well, incredibly hot, to be frank.”

  “I thought so too,” he says, placing a hand on my hip.

  “However,” I continue, stepping out of our loose embrace.

  “You’re trying to kill me with these ‘however’s’,” he groans, running a hand through his wind-tossed hair.

  “However,” I repeat, “You weren’t entirely honest with me at the club.”

  “Wasn’t I?”

  “You conveniently failed to mention the fact that you’re McClain’s secret weapon,” I tell him, “Call me crazy, but that seems like pretty pertinent information.”

  “I never lied to you, Siena,” he says, “I told you that I worked for McClain, and I do. I may have failed to mention the exact nature of my employment...”

  “It’s called a lie of omission, Harrison,” I say.

  “Well, you would know,” he shoots back.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

  “Just that you’re being very touchy about me not being entirely honest with you after knowing you for all of twenty minutes,” he says, tossing back the rest of his drink and placing the empty glass down in the sand. “Especially considering the fact that you, my dear, have not been entirely honest with me.”

  “I haven’t lied to you either,” I insist.

  “Is that right, Miss Lazio?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards.

  I stare at him blankly for a long moment, unable to formulate any sort of comeback.

  “How did you...How do you know my full name?” I ask.

  “Aha,” Harrison smiles, taking a step toward me, “So you admit, you were hiding something from me, too.”

  “I was...It was just easier not to mention it,” I say, setting my glass down beside Harrison’s. God, what I wouldn’t give for another one of those right about now.

  “I agree,” Harrison says, “It was far easier not to mention my little secret, as well.”

  “When did you figure out who I was?” I ask.