I nodded again.
“This isn’t a permanent contract until you’ve proven yourself. That is also for you. The men here are far less proper and charming than you’re used to, and if you want out… it will make it easier.” He groaned as his eyes locked on something in the background behind me. “C’estquoicebordel! Nixon estunpetitemerdeux!”
My French hadn’t been used in conversation for about four years, but when I knew this job was possible, my twin brother and I had practised to prepare me.
What is this mess? Nixon is a little shit,was what he said.
On the screens, the new motorbike was doing wheelies along the track and, as the noise of a speeding bike approached, it was clear he was coming our way.
A deep laugh came into the box. A man of about5’10with a bright smile wearing theCiclaticolours on his leathers and a large 86 on his back applauded slowly, looking up at the screen before clappingCrison the back. He only grumbled in response.
To most, he was just a middle-aged man.
To my dad, he had been his sporting hero.
To me, he was forever embedded in my memories when itcame to my father.
“Give him a break,”AlvaroMendes said, Italian accent less strong than in the post-race interviews I’d watched. “This is his first bike reveal.”
More grumbles from Cris.
“Saliha!” 86 shouted before greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.
She smiled and held him tight. “Alvaro!”
When she let him go, his attention turned to me and I swallowed. I’d known I would have to interact with this man if I got the job, but… I had no idea what to say to the seven-time championship winner.
“There are two beautiful young ladies in the room,Cris, and you’ve been swearing your mouth off?”
Crissnorted and turned back to the screen as the roaring engine came to a screeching halt. I couldn’t look away fromAlvaro, despite all the cheering outside.
“AlvaroMendes,” he said, giving me his hand to shake.
My dad would lose his shit if he could see me now. I could imagine him listening to my story, on the edge of his seat on the sofa, mouth hanging open.
But that wouldn’t happen.
I felt honoured to touchAlvaro’shand. His greying blonde hair was pushed back, ready for the helmet to go on his head.
My hand took his and clasped tight. “LivieQuinn, PR.”
He nodded and, over his shoulder, looked toCris.
Crisonly said, “On a temporary basis.”
A year ago, I would have laughed at being on a temporary contract. Now, I was desperate to take anything.
It didn’t stop me from chewing my bottom lip.
Temporary would do in the short term. I’d prove myself.
“For now,”Salihaadded with a wink. She had always been awful at winking, somehow screwing up half her face in the process, but it had never stopped her. Not at university, not on dates, not at her job.
“Well, you’ll have no problems from me,”Alvaroadded with an easy smile as people shuffled through the garage door to the track. “I’m a golden boy.”
Leaving the pit box, Cris chuckled.
“I’ve heard,” I laughed.
