“Great idea,” Matt says quickly, before anyone has a chance to groan.
“Are you celebrating one good turn in two hundred and thirty-six turns?Let’s not over-egg the pudding,” Barry says, frowning.“We placed fifteenth and sixteenth.And two cars crashed, so that’s basically third and fourth last.”
“Also one of the Williamses had a broken wing,” mutters that awful strategist, and I have to fight myself not to snarl at him.I need to get rid of him if I ever get settled.
“It doesn’t matter.Come on.Who’s in?”I raise my hand and look around the room.
Matt’s hand shoots up, and then Archie’s.I breathe out, looking gratefully at Matt.Thankful that despite everything, at least he has my back.
In the end, there are seven of the core team who make it out.Archie, Matt, Noah, a young strategy assistant called Michelle, two pit crew members, and I feast on a hastily organized dinner at a karaoke bar.It’s the only place we can find that will take us all at the last minute, and, conveniently for me, the same place Keyla and some of the McLaren crew might be heading, per her text.
Archie is in charge, ordering trays of fish and pulled-pork tacos and endless frozen margaritas.Some girl in Daisy Dukes is already on the microphone doing a rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama,” much to Noah’s delight.
“I thought you were dating someone,” Matt says, spotting the thirsty look on Noah’s face.
“She bought a new fucking handbag on my room service,” Noah shouts back.
Archie and Matt look at each other and laugh.
“Live and learn, my dude,” says Matt, holding his beer up to cheers Noah, before grinning my way, as if to say he can’t help but banter with the kid.
I mock-scowl back at him before flicking through thekaraoke list, my sloppy fish taco in my other hand.I actually swore I’d never do karaoke again after The Last Time, but it’s the perfect bonding exercise for all of us, so I suck it up.We need some fun right now.
A huge gloop of fishy taco juice lands on my white shirt.“I’m filthy.”I dunk my napkin into my glass of sparking water and try to wipe off the splodge, but it’s no use.
“We have matching stains,” says Matt, pointing at his own T-shirt and the trail of black beans on his front.
“Were you raised in a fucking barn?”asks Noah in his poshest accent, while pretending to eat his taco with a knife and fork.Matt finds this hilarious and starts to cut his buffalo wing with a fork, catching the bone and sending the wing flying across the table to hit Noah in the middle of his brand-new Gucci T-shirt.
“We need more shots,” says Michelle, before giggling wildly at something one of the two pit hunks has said.
“To not quite coming last,” says Matt, who like most drivers saves his drinking for just after a race, and only needs a couple to get any kind of effect.He holds a shot of tequila aloft.
“To the best rear end on the grid,” teases Noah, his margarita slopping over the sides of his glass as he toasts Matt.
“You know, he’s got a sponsorship coming for an adult nappy,” says Archie.“They’re getting the spot across your ass.”
“Fuck you,” says Matt, tossing a deep-fried pepper at him.
“Finish up, you drunk idiots.It’s time for a last nightcap.I’m spent,” I say, not wanting a repeat of the last time I saw Matt in a bar.
“A nightcap?”Archie roars.“We’re just getting started, Bug.”
“She doesn’t like Bug anymore,” Matt says, wagging a finger at Archie as he leans across the table, grinning at me.
“But look at those eyes,” says Archie.He uses his thumbs and fingers to stretch his eyelids apart.“Permanently startled.Like a baby deer.”
“Cute as hell, though,” says Matt, and I shoot him a look:Stop it.So he reaches forward and grabs the song list in its plastic folder, leaning across the booth as he pats the cushion playfully.“Sit here and let’s choose a song, Chloe,” he says, eyebrow raised.
I’m stuck.On the one hand, if I don’t move, it will look weird to the others.On the other hand, I don’t want to be next to Matt when he’s looking at me like he is.
“He won’t bite,” shouts Archie above a searing rendition of “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”
“He might,” I whisper under my breath, but I oblige, sliding in next to him.He immediately lifts his arm up and lays it on the back of the seat behind us, making more room for me, but making the space entirely too intimate for my liking.
“If I remember correctly,you’rethe one who likes to bite,” he whispers into my ear.The little hairs on my neck start to prickle, but even in my loose and drunken state, I refuse to back down with Matt Warner.
“Matt, not here,” I whisper defiantly, unable to stop myself from glaring at him.“We’re with my fucking team.”
