“A crypto platform,” says Barry.
“A crypto platform?”I say, grimacing.“Of course.Sorry again.”
Ronny laughs, a sort of snort-laugh, and nudges Barry.“Lucky he’s only here to drive.”
“I’m an idiot,” I say, shaking my head, grimacing.“Have I blown it?”
“Not if you place this weekend,” Ronny Ring Burner says, chuckling even more.“I reckon there’s a few sponsors here who are waiting to see results.”He jerks both his hands up, beer sloshing out of the top of his drink as he grins.“No pressure.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I reply, and the man seems satisfied, patting me on the back.
“Good luck, Matt.”
As I emerge from the lift and head toward the media scrum by the front door, I realize I can’t wait anymore.I need to find Chloe.I need to hear her out.I need to see her.
Fuck the article.Half of that bashing I deserved, and the other half I’m sure Jack just conjured out of thin air.I know Chloe better than anyone.And I know I want to be with her whatever it takes.
On the car ride back to the hotel, I press my cheek against the glass and start to imagine what my life would look like if I quit racing.I’ve done no prep for it.No lengthy media training in hopes of a job as a commentator or contributor on the paddock.I have little interest in other ventures like opening a restaurant chain or going into the car business like other drivers have.I have enough money.Much more than feels fair.
I could move back home to Brackley, or the nearby Cotswolds.Buy an estate there.Get a couple of dogs.Maybe collect some sports cars.
I shudder.
I’m not ready for that.
But also, trying to claw back this career?And be with Chloe?That feels impossible.
The car pulls up to the hotel and as I get out and enter the lobby I know exactly where I need to go.
I ask the receptionist for Chloe’s room number, but when I get there and knock she doesn’t answer.I look at my watch: 11:09 p.m.She should be here.The bar?She does like a quiet, solitary drink.
I head back to the lift and then up several floors into the hotel cocktail bar: a deep blue furnished room with huge potted palms and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
I motion to the bartender.
“A light beer, please?”I ask, and he nods, pouring my beer as I scan the room.
I check the seats in the perimeter by the windows, then look down the bar, and just when I’m about to give up, a man in the far corner sits back in his chair and I can see her.
Chloe.With...Jack Sheppard.
No.
The feeling shoots up me in a firestorm of anger.That absolute bastard, sitting there, chatting to her after all he’s done.And why is she putting up with it?I push myself back against a pillar so I’m out of their eyelines.
I should go.I should leave.Did she leave the function to meet Jack?
Is this the truth of the situation in front of me?Has Chloe been playing me this whole time?The ferocity of that fear clutches me hard.And yet, even as I think it, I don’t believe it.Not Chloe.She’s too loyal at her core.Too good.Isn’t she?
I watch her, her face completely even as Jack shakes his head.Chloe leans in and gesticulates wildly at him.She looks agitated, actually.My feelings switch from fear and hurt to anger and a protective urge as I watch her, still in that silver dress, her legs crossed, the fabric draping high on her thigh.My protective urge wins out.
Something in my gut tells me to approach with caution.I scan the seating near them.There is a wingback armchair just behind a huge potted palm that I could sit at.Take a drink.Pretend I didn’t see them if I get caught.
I move quickly, sliding into the seating area adjacent to them, but hiding my body behind the oversize plant.I can just hear them, and it’s clear from the tone that Chloe is on the offensive.
The bartender brings me my beer, and I stiffen slightly, hoping not to attract their attention, but the timbre of her voice is unchanged; she is too focused on whatever it is she’s saying.
“Please, Jack.”Her voice is exasperated.
