At the door, he gestured me in but didn’t follow.
I’d never been in another team’s pit box. The only difference was the colours; other than that, it was just the man in the leather seat.Criswas grumpy and loud, and his foul mouth could no doubt be heard from here.Prixton’sdirector sat with a grin and immediately stood when I entered, looking behind me for Frank’s support.
It was just me and him. I didn’t even know his name.
“Olivia Quinn,” he said in a thick German accent. He shook my hand. Mine was floppy, like a dead fish. The strength my dad had taught me was out of the window; I was too flustered. “I don’t think we’ve officially had the pleasure. My name isEmericGorman. Frank speaks highly of you.”
He gestured for me to sit, and as I did, I noticed his eyes hovering over my slides.
Cris hated them, too.
“I heard you didn’t have a permanent contract,” he said. “Frank thinks the world of you and… well, with what you’ve managed to pull off withArmas… if your contract is only temporary, why don’t you come and work for us? Permanent media manager, of course.”
My words faltered. Permanent? An actual title that didn’t mean I was babysitting Nix?
I wouldn’t babysit Nixanymore.
Nix.
“I, er… they offered me a permanent position today.”
He straightened, looking down at me with curiosity. “Have you already signed it?”
I nodded, though it was a lie.
Damn me for opening my mouth about that contract.
“Okay, well, let’s put a pin in this and talk at the end of the season. You can always come over to our team. We’re quite competitive in our pay.”
“Go on,” I said.
“We’ll double it. And you’d be valued,Livie. Something tells me they don’t know what they have.”
You’ll still be an afterthought,Abbe had said.
Maybe I’d never prove myself withCiclati.
“Thank you,” I said, having to force out the words because my mind was racing… but simultaneously very quiet. Like the quiet mechanical sound of a bike going at high speed. Fast white noise.
I needed to be alone.
Back in the corridor, Frank was still bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“How did qualifying go?” I asked before he could question the conversation with his boss.
“Fastest lap so far,” he boasted. His schoolboy grin reminded me ofLuca’s.
“And first out on the track, by the looks of it,” I said, lifting my wrist to eye my watch just as the reminder for Nix and Clara’s interview for tomorrow came through. My voice turned bitter. “Someone is keen.”
His hand brushed mine as we walked back toCiclati, clearly unaware of how my body stiffened. “Only cause I told myself that after I’d do this.”
“This?” I asked, unsure if my emotions were making me incoherent.
“I haven’t had the nerve to seek you out,” he said. “You were with Nix in the hospital when I won. We didn’t celebrate. So, I want to do that. With you. Just me and you.”
“Me and you,” I repeated, sounding as dumbfounded as I felt.
“Yes,” he confirmed with a nod. “A date.”
