Jake put his giant-sized hand on my shoulder. “I got it. This time. But I don’t want to see this behavior again, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I picked up my jacket on the way out. Thankfully, the place had been mostly empty. Otherwise, I would have been super embarrassed. I would have to think of something nice for Jake to thank him.
Nothing left to do but drive home.
I lived at Casa Pedroso in Ybor City. It was an old 1800s cigar factory that had been restored and turned into these glorious apartments. Mine had a patio with a wrought iron railing around the balcony. It was charming, even if my view was of another cigar factory. The brick of that building was gorgeous anyway, so I didn’t mind. The area was also what they called walkable, meaning almost everything in Ybor City was within walking distance, which was good because there wasn’t any parking—the only drawback. But the nearest garage wasn’t far at all, and I hada reserved spot there. And it cost. A lot. My one-bedroom, one-bath apartment was over two grand a month, and the parking pushed it a lot closer to three. I sighed. I needed one of those promotions my brother got.
I walked in and tossed my keys on the peninsula counter. The kitchen was smaller than Mom’s but it was modern, sleek, and well laid out, overlooking the living room and balcony. My bed was tucked to the side, not really even in a room. Even though I put up a divider screen to give the semblance of privacy, it was basically all one room. I kicked off my shoes and headed to the one place I felt secure, and the main reason I kept this place. The closet.
It was big and divided into two sections. The main section where you hung clothes was in the back, and I’d managed to stuff a tall boy in there for extra storage. Who the hell could live without some drawers? But the front part was an empty, virtually useless space. Unless you were a little like me. I had cushions and blankets on the floor, and I could still shut the door. I stuck one of those push-button lights low on the wall in case I needed to see and didn’t want to get up. I also had Rex, my stuffed dog, shoved in there. It was the perfect size for curling up and resting.
I pulled off my clothes and dumped them in the little hamper I kept in the bathroom and pulled out my soft clothes from a drawer. Once changed, I grabbed one more thing. I had a basket on top of the shelf above the bar where I hung my clothes. In that basket, I hadlittlethings. A couple of books, two wind-up dinosaurs, a bunch of monkeys from an old Barrel of Monkeys game, some soft blocks, a teething ring, and my pacifier. It was that last thing I grabbed out of the basket before cuddling up with my favorite blankie and my Rexy stuffie.
I shut the door, locking the rest of the world out.
Last race of the season
I accepted the trophies. Not only for the race win, but for the championship. I shook and opened the giant champagne bottle, spraying it all over the crowd of fans and some of my team. I’d beaten the top racers from all over the world, and I was fucking proud of myself. But I was also finished. This was my last race. I’d announced my retirement halfway through the season, and winning the championship didn’t change anything. But try telling that to Grant.
He threw an arm around my shoulder as we headed to my trailer. “You can’t retire, man. You can’t. Do you even know what they’re offering you? Not to mention the competing offers that are starting to come in?” Grant was not only my business manager but my best friend. We’d met and become friends early in my career, when Grant had been racing, too. But he wasn’t great, probably because he didn’t love it, and quit racing, went to college, and now managed my career. To an extent.
“I’m turning thirty-three next year. I’m not going to keep doing this.”
“That’s not too old. Come on. Plenty of time to take a break before you get back to training. Season doesn’t start until March.”
“No. I want to go out on top. That hasn’t changed.” It was only downhill from here. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to be known as a champion. End of story.
“Think of the money. California Alpine will pay you thirty million base. That doesn’t even include bonuses. And the factory teams are all begging. Mercedes threw out a potentially nine-figure number. Come on!”
“Eh. I have enough.” I’d made millions in my short career between racing and sponsorships, not to mention some fantastic investments that doubled my worth. I was set for life. “I want to explore new things.”
“You mean men. And sex.”
“So what if I do? I’ve put my love life—hell, my whole life—on hold for ten years. It wasn’t supposed to be that long.” I’d anticipated much less since racers normally only did it for a good five to seven years at the top level. It’s too stressful to go longer.
We walked up the steps to my trailer, and I pulled off my gear, leaving it in the foyer area. Grant kicked my pants. “I know. I know. I can’t blame you for that. I guess.”
“Then stop harassing me.”
“Fine. What are you doing next then?” Grant knew me well enough to know I’d already started planning and was determined not to crash those plans—even with fast cars.
“I’m taking a trip to Florida to look for a house.”
Chapter two
February
Working in these cubicles sucked. Not ideal at all, but that’s where I was in life. I needed the money to live. My salary covered the basics, and everything extra, including food, came from what little sponsorships I had on my channels. Which meant trying to keep up with them while working a full-time job.
I logged into my dashboard to see where I was trending. I was on my break but still trying to be discreet about it. Apparently, not careful enough.
Ben looked over the top of my wall. “What’s going on? Thought you were getting food.”
I held up my smoothie. “Gotta look at this. Ah, crap.”
“What?”
“Numbers are down.” I felt the lines in my forehead creasing as I scowled.
