‘The whole thing causeduproarin the team. Most of the mechanics quit. My strategists quit. The FIA found out about “Crashgate” and half the board left, though probably not voluntarily. They fined the team something chronic. Ackland’s never been the same since.
‘I was all set to go back to IndyCar, but then I got a call from Martinelli. Christophe doesn’t get on with anyone anyway, so he doesn’t give two shits about gossip and clashing personalities. And that’s where I’ve been for the last five years.’
Holymoly. It’s all starting to make sense. I can’t imagine him having a black temper, or sending his teammate death threats, or spitting at mechanics ‘like a llama’ (Minnie’s words). I can reconcile this Tom with the Tom I’ve known all season.
‘I just feel sad about it,’ he goes on, pushing leaves around his plate. ‘Ackland’s a heritage constructor. They have a ninety-year legacy. We were title contenders. All the guys I worked with deserve better than to crawl up the rankings like a broke backmarker.’
For fuck’s sake, he is a good guy.
Ackland do that to him and not only does he shoulder the blame and protect his team, but on reflection he feelssad about it? I’d burn the place down and scatter the ashes on the team principal’s front lawn.
The only thing that made what I’m doing slightly palatable is that he’s not a decent person, and I can now say with total certainty that Tom Webber is a decent person. He’s principled; he listens; he has empathy; he reflects; he hasn’t obnoxiously brought up his winning recordonce.
This is so bad. I’m in way over my head. He clearly hates deception, and I’m a wily deceiver!
I give myself a mental slap. Calm down, Jules, it’s only a first date. People lie on first dates all the time. George the rugby player said he was over 6ft. Dom the swimmer said he wasn’t a workaholic. Hell, Brennan the footballer said he was faithful.
‘Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful eyes?’ Tom says suddenly.
Everything I’ve just eaten crawls back up my throat. He doesn’t mean it. My fake lashes must be confusing him. ‘Thanks,’ I force out, adding a smile a second late.
Compliments are for other people, natural people, people who aren’t trying to ensnare him.
Back to the task at hand. It’s not like I can even make him over. He doesn’t need bigger sponsors; he doesn’t care about ‘things’ (what, by the way, does that mean?); he doesn’t want to transition to a mature second career. I can’t provide a public service in exchange for misleading him. There’s give and take with Tiago. Things are so much simpler.
I’ll treat this like every other relationship, with a healthy dose of distance, elusiveness, deflection, and boundaries. Come December, it’ll be like he never knew me at all. Perfect.
‘Enough about me.’ He smiles warmly. ‘I’ve been talking all night. What about you? What did you do before Instagram?’
‘Trust me, your job ismuchmore interesting than anything I could say. My life’s simple. You’re the one doing extraordinary things.’ I feel feminism retreating fifty years, but this feminist wants to afford a life better than her parents’, and this is how she does it.
‘Bullshit. I want to know everything.’
Huh? That one always works.Take the bait.
I puff my chest out, wishing I’d worn the other Zimmermann dress with the lower neckline. ‘Tell me about?—’
‘No way. Your turn.’
I hold back a groan. Why is everything so hard with this man?
Chapter 25
TIAGO
BARCELONA
‘Could you lookanymore American?’ is Jules’ greeting, staring at my baseball cap like it readsI HATE BRUNETTES.
I reposition it slightly. ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
She just raises her eyebrows and stalks off down the Passeig de Gràciatoward Armani.
She looks especially good today, flouncing through the streets in a little pale blue dress that flaps around her tanned thighs, and if I’m not mistaken, beautifully free nipples beneath the thin fabric. Her hair’s in a high ponytail which swishes from side to side with every step. I’d say she looks sweet, but I know better than to call Jules sweet.
I wonder if Tom thinks she’s sweet. She’s kept silent about their so-called ‘date’. That’s fine by me. I don’t care. I mean, I care that I fulfilled my side of the contract – with weeks to spare.
‘Everything’s going to plan,’ she summarises while I change in the empty fitting room. ‘Your tone’s changed in interviews, your socials are looking great, events are going well, and the press stories we’re seeding are working. Businesses are noticing, fans are noticing…’
