Page 2 of Spin Control

2

If I had known what this day would shape up to be, I’d have shaved.

But that’s the thing about days that change your life: you rarely have a heads up about them.

My Tuesdays are usually spent working out, reviewing the latest simulator data from our reserve driver, Choi Hyunjoon, meeting with my engineering team, and generally getting my head together for the next race.

But my usual Tuesday schedule has been blown to smithereens because my boss and best friend have been arrested.

When I read David’s brisk text about the arrests, my first reaction was to laugh. But the shock was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling that had me repeating “What the fuck” as if it were my new morning affirmation.

How could Stas and Elio do this? How did they even get mixed up with organized crime? How did I not know?

But there’s no time to dwell on those questions. I’m now Martine Racing’s number one driver. I will be expected to step up. To be on podiums, to be a leader, to be a spokesperson. That’s why I’m making my way to a conference room for a meeting with that buttoned-up crisis lady.

I don’t know where Baz and David found her, but she’s in way over her head. Sure, she projected confidence during her little speech, but it wasn’t a good look when she obviously had no idea she was speaking with the driver who hadn’t been arrested and who is great at handling journalists.

Even if she did, objectively, look good while doing it.

I’m not usually into the whole serious girlboss vibe, but after taking in her creamy skin, dark hair, and toned body in that crisp white button down and navy pencil skirt, I finally understood the appeal.

But I know her type. She probably thinks motorsports are for white-trash hicks, and that F1, in particular, is something most people have never thought of more than once in their lives. And that is where she’s very wrong. F1 generates billions of dollars in revenue each year, and there are hundreds of millions of fans around the world. I fucking love this sport. I’ve worked my ass off to be here—to stay here. Sure, I’ve made some disastrous choices, and yeah, I’m not on podiums as often I used to be. But I’m still here.

At least, until my contract is up at the end of this season.

I’m not about to lose my seat because of whatever Elio and Stas have gotten themselves involved in. I’ve worked too damn hard to watch this team implode. As selfish as it is, I know this crisis is an opportunity for me. I’m suddenly the lead driver for a team, years after I made a decision that nearly cost me my entire career. I’m not about to let anything or anyone ruin this for me.

Not even a massive scandal is going to keep me from getting another contract.

“Well hello there, dream team,” I say brightly as I walk into the conference room.

“Hello, Wes,” David says. “How are you holding up?”

I take a seat in one of the leather chairs. “My grandma always told me that when life hands you lemons—”

A woman’s voice interrupts me. “Make lemonade?”

I look at the so-called crisis specialist. Her posture is rigid, her poker face is one of the best I’ve ever seen, and the look in her eyes is fierce. This is going to be fun. “She actually advised knowing precisely whose eyes you should squeeze lemon juice into.”

There are laughs around the room, but my focus is trained on this woman. Who doesn’t laugh. Who doesn’t smile, not even a little.

Hmm.

“Elizabeth,” David says. “I’m very pleased to introduce you to Wes Grant, an immensely talented driver, and, as you’ve already gleaned, our media darling. We’re incredibly lucky to have him on any day, but he’s going to be a particularly great asset in the days ahead.”

“Thanks, man,” I say. It’s been a minute since anyone has called me talented. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Liz.”

“It’s Elizabeth.”

Okay, then.

“My bad.” I shoot her an easy smile that I hope will warm her up. But she just sits there, giving me nothing. Not even saying that it’s nice to meet me, too. “Do you prefer Lizzy?”

And just like that: a reaction. Her dark eyes burn with fury. Not exactly what I was going for, but at least it’s a sign of life.

“No.”

“Okay, Elizabeth. We’ll stay formal.”