“Got it. Just keep going and we’ll figure it out later.” They all buy it, my authentic display working on the team. I still want to land on the podium anyway.
By lap sixty-four, I make worse turns that leave myself open for an overtaking. To no one’s surprise, Santiago passes me at one of the corners, rattling my car as he zooms by.
My lips lift at the corners.
The crowd goes wild, releasing deafening roars when Santiago crosses the finish line first, red smoke billowing up into the air from canisters. I solidify my second place on the podium when I get the next checkered flag.
Better luck next time.
Santiago’s family celebrates behind the barrier next to the podiums as they watch us on the stage. His parents light up the entire stage with their smiles alone. Maya has decked herself out in Bandini gear, with a Spanish flag wrapped around her as she dances around to the music streaming from the stage speakers. Watching her happy makes my heart clench like a chick.
Usually, when I meet a woman, the first thing that attracts me is a set of perky tits, a tight ass, and seductive lips. But for the first time in my life, I’m interested in someone for a different reason. With Maya, the most beautiful thing about her is how her eyes light up with happiness when she grins, an infectious smile that makes my lips turn up every time. Her beam is hands down one of my favorite things. A bubble of positive energy, dancing in circles without a care in the world.
Does she have a great body? Sure.
But at this moment, her smile draws me to her. I want to keep them all to myself and bottle them up for the bad days. Don’t get me started on her laughs. I feel them all the way down to my cock, every single time.
Champagne sprays all around me, but I barely pay attention, too enamored by her.
And fuck, it scares me.
I smirk one last time at the sight of her before turning back to the rest of the crowd. They chant my name, and although it feels great to hear them, nothing beats the smile on Maya’s face as she watches us.
My dad paces the motorhome’s lobby after the winners’ ceremony. He follows me to the private suite area, his agitation evident in his jerky steps. The sounds of our shoes against the smooth floor distract me. I pull him away from others because we don’t need an audience for his explosion. He enters the suite first, and before I have a chance to close the door, he shoves me toward the center of the room. His dirty move catches me off guard. My feet trip on the slick tile, but I right myself before hitting a couch.
So this is how today is going to go.
“What the fuck, Noah? You call that racing?” His voice echoes off the walls. Someone’s cranky about my second-place win.
“Last time I checked we called it racing. But maybe the concepts have changed since you last drove. It’s been a while.”
My dad’s chest heaves up and down as his eyes dart around, wild and uncontrolled. It’s the same look he gave me every time I failed to land on a shitty kart podium or crashed my F2 car. A glare he saved for our alone time in his office before he smacked my ass into the next day. Lucky for us bruises aren’t visible when you wear race suits daily. Not a single scar was left on my skin except for the mangled remains of my heart, a mistrusting organ ruined by the man before me. A cliché of the worst kind.
“I don’t sponsor this team to see a shitty performance like that from my own son. I don’t buy your crap with the steering wheel. All the tests came back fine; nothing seemed loose.” His voice gets louder as his agitation grows. My face remains flat because I don’t feed into his anger. The fallout from his rage is a lesson I don’t wish to revisit anytime soon, at least not in this lifetime.
I look over his shoulder and catch the suite door ajar, a shocked Maya staring back at me through the crack with a hand covering her mouth. Acting like Spanish Nancy Drew piecing together what I did.
Just a bad day in racing. Steering wheel problems happen all the time.
“There was something off. Hopefully they find out what happens before the next race, that way I can get first place next time.”
“Bullshit! Don’t try to pull something over on me, acting all coy. You know I basically fund your career here. People would kill for your seat. I could replace you like that.” He snaps his fingers.
“Go ahead. I’m sure McCoy would offer me a seat in a heartbeat. That team probably pays more than Bandini does anyway. Wouldn’t you like that?”
A resounding crack fills the small room as my head snaps to the side. My dad fucking backhanded me. I try my hardest not to start something with him, my breaths becoming labored as my self-control teeters. Maya’s gasp and the whooshing sound in my ears make it difficult to make out any other noises.