“Good,” Don said. “Thanks, Olivia. Please keepAlvin the posts where you can. We want to keep him in people’s prayers. We don’t want anyone to think he has been… forgotten.”
Nix’s side glance could have set the room on fire.
“On it,” I agreed. I already had a video of his first-ever championship win drafted on our social media accounts.
“Right,”Crissaid and clapped his hands together. “I say we take a break. We’ll contactLucanow and get back to everyone once we’re done.”
Food was provided in the fancyCiclatibuilding. It was made of floor-to-ceiling glass windows along the outer edge, which meant I could see my cautious reflection as I wondered where to sit in the canteen. I chewed so hard on my bottom lip that I didn’t doubt I had scraped off all of my lipstick.
There were several tables, a sprinkle of people sitting across them, all in deep conversation or laughter.
WithoutSaliha, it was just me and my vegetableorzo. And my phone.
My Instagram had taken off in the last few months seeing as I’d had nothing else to focus on since being unemployed.Some sponsors even contacted me about my fashion posts.
I’d ignored them all. That wasn’t my job. It was just some fun.
It had been ironic that I was posting ‘work attire’ from my sofa, wearing nothing but a hooded dressing gown I hadn’t removed for three days.
But when I looked up from my phone, I couldn’t help but sigh at all the clear friendships across the room.
Throughout school, university, and all my previous jobs, I had never struggled to make friends. But I had never worked in such a male-dominated industry before.
I whizzed off a text to my brother as I sat at an empty table.
LIVIE: How do I talk to men?
He replied instantly.
BEN: At work? With your legs closed.
I rolled my eyes, leaning further over my phone so no one could see.
LIVIE: Yes, at work. But what do I talk to them about?
BEN: Bikes? Upcoming season? Instagram algorithm? Think of them just as women with dicks. What’s got into you?
He was right. This wasn’t who I was.
The chair next to mine scraped back. “I can’t do next Tuesday,” Nix said gruffly, shoving his plate of food on the table.
Nixon Armas was sitting by me.
“Why can’t you? I emailed your manager. I emailed every manager of every rider. Twenty-four riders. At least fifty people needed to be free that day and your manager said you were.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Why aren’t you? What could you possibly have to do?”
“Stuff,” he said around a mouthful of food.
“No,” I said, turning my chair to face him properly. “You’re free. You’re going to make it work. It’s too important not to.”
“My flight won’t get there in time.”
“I don’t want to be a prick,” I started, unsure if that was necessarily true, “but if you’re not going to show, I’ll tellCrisright now. We can’t have footage of every team together butCiclati. Especially when he’s why we’re doing the whole shoot.”
“I can’t make it,” he shrugged, mouth full.
