‘Yeah, there’s basketball.’ I wouldn’t say it’s a major plot device, but occasionally balls are thrown at baskets.
‘I like basketball. Let’s do it.’
‘I… um… brought my laptop and an HDMI,’ I mumble, digging in my tote bag, ignoring my flaming cheeks, ‘in case we couldn’t find it on a Spanish channel.’
He looks at me flatly. ‘You think a hotel like this doesn’t have Netflix?’
‘How am I to know if it’s on Spanish Netflix?’ I snap. ‘Sit down, will you? You’re making me jittery lurking like that.’
He sighs like a dog getting its nails cut. Empathy seeps from my body with every groan and grunt and guttural swear.
‘You’re such a man,’ I mutter as I open my MacBook and he unceremoniously thumps down.
‘I’d like to see you try and—’ He stops.
I follow his eyeline to my screen. It’s open on Final Cut, showing a video I was editing of yesterday’s Martinelli garage tour – with Tom. He’s frozen in the shot, mid-speaking to the camera about what Rack Men do.
‘How are things going?’ Tiago asks. It feels like a layered question and I don’t really know how to answer it.
We’ve been on two dates so far, both pretty unexciting. I’m beginning to think the reason it’s so hard to find anything out about Tom is because there’s not a lot to know. He likes racing and Australia and prides himself on being an adrenaline junkie. He once fell off a dirt bike and broke his jaw, so he can’t eat burgers. That’s about it.
There was a definite point last night where he looked like he wanted to kiss me, but I pretended I saw a plane and went home. I meant what I said about calling this off with Tiago if things get intimate with Tom – I don’t want to make things even more layered than they already are – but I can’t see that changing any time soon. There isn’t a single thing about Tom that ignites even the faintest flicker of arousal in me. He could be a cup of tea.
Meanwhile Tiago’s probably still fucking every woman south of the Pyrenees. I don’t have any right to ask him not to. I need to stop being such a jealous cow and keep pretending like condoms are the best thing since Korean skincare.
‘Everything’s going to plan, even though we had a delayed launch,’ I say. ‘I’ve seen a 4% rise in Australian followers on Instagram, and 3% on TikTok. He has a really strong fanbase in Germany, weirdly, so I’ve seen an uplift from there too.’
‘Connection’s that good, huh?’ I can’t read Tiago’s expression. There’s tension in it and it makes me want to drop the subject.
‘What’s the Wi-Fi password?’
Once we’ve found season one in English, I start hooking my laptop up to the TV. Only when I’m looking away from him, facing a sea of wires, do I feel strong enough to broach the accident. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like I’ve been hit by a truck. The shoulder least impacted started throbbing about ten minutes ago, so that’s a fun new development.’
I pull a face which he obviously can’t see. ‘It looked really nasty on camera.’
‘That’s honestly not the worst of it. This is a death knell for the team. We can’t afford to lose big chunks of the car. This’ll bankrupt us for sure.’
Oh my god.
‘We don’t deserve it,’ he continues. ‘It’s not fair – teams like Pagari have millions, if not billions more to support them. If a car’s burned out, so what? Here’s a shiny new one.’
‘Won’t Martinelli bail you out? You’re their development team, and integral to their future success,’ I offer.
‘It’s possible, but—how long does it take you to plug in a cable, woman?’
He’s not the only one of us that likes stalling. I quickly find the socket and emerge.
‘Would you believe me if I said I’m not good with tech?’ I bat my eyelashes.
‘Not a chance. Don’t you pull any of thatyou’re so much better than me, managing up, controlling from below bullshit. I saw that program you edit on, and who brings an HDMI to a foreign country?’
It was worth a shot. ‘I’m dumb enough to lose my AirPods.’
‘It happens to the best of us. They’re slippery little shits.’
Enough side-tracking. ‘Why would Martinelli not bail you out?’
