Page 18 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)
EIGHTEEN
JOSIE
All Lucas will tell me about this “freelance opportunity”—which is sounding sketchier by the moment—is that I’ll be pleasantly surprised, whatever that means. I meet him at Wells Boxing, a gym that caters to high-profile athletes and up-and-comers. It’s like the SoHo house of sports. Lucas has his own performance coach, but occasionally, trains with the owner of the gym, a professional boxer with three titles under his belt.
The door of Wells Boxing is discreet and could easily be mistaken for a service entrance. Painted red with scratches marking up the metal, it doesn’t look like it opens into one of London’s most exclusive boxing and training gyms. Heavy breathing and grunts echo off the walls as I walk through the door. If I closed my eyes, I could easily be on the set of a porno.
I spy Lucas in the boxing ring that occupies the center of the room. He’s wearing a sweat-stained gray shirt that displays his taut, tattooed arms.
I make my way over to him, humming the theme song of Rocky and side-stepping the personal trainers and men with towels draped around their necks.
“Jos,” he calls out with a smile. “You made it.”
“I made it,” I confirm, holding up my camera to show him I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal. “Am I here to take thirst-traps for your Instagram?”
Lucas takes a swig from his water bottle before rolling his eyes. He lands somewhere in between Blake and Theo on the social-media-lovers scale. He doesn’t accidentally post memes to his story that belong in a private message like Blake, nor does he live-stream himself eating breakfast for two hours like Theo.
“Hardly my style, Bancroft.” He huffs out a laugh. Swinging his body beneath the elastic ropes surrounding the ring, he jumps off the elevated platform and saunters over to where I’m standing. “Ready to see something cool?”
“Something actually cool?” I ask with a frown. “Or is this like in Baku, when Blake wanted to show us something cool, and it ended up being a TikTok everyone had seen weeks ago?”
Lucas lets out a long laugh. “He sets the bar pretty low, but this is actually cool.”
He leads me toward the back of the gym. I’m expecting to stop in the small office tucked away in the corner, but instead, Lucas opens the emergency exit and motions for me to follow him outside. It’s a warm night, but that doesn’t stop goosebumps from breaking out across my arms as we step into the dark alleyway.
We walk to the end of the alley and make a sharp right before stopping in front of a storefront with metal grates over the tinted windows. It’s a quiet street, the only sound coming from our footsteps against the cobblestone. I glance around so I can get a good description in case I need to repeat to the police where I was kidnapped. I’ve learned a thing or two from watching Law you’re bloody brilliant.”
My friend teasingly nudges me with his elbow. He’s everyone’s biggest hype man.
Kelsey motions us over to a card table surrounded by folding chairs. I swear, I’ve seen a painting of dogs drinking whiskey and smoking cigars while playing poker at a table just like this.
Kelsey runs a hand through his corkscrew, caramel-colored curls. “If you’re open to it, I’d love for you to take some photos of the space. Get inspired, let your creative juices flow. I don’t need a stuffy business proposal, but I’m looking for someone to give me some direction. Find the right voice for the brand. I have a Pinterest board full of ideas, but it’s all over the place. I need someone to hone in on my vision and execute it.”
I press my leg into Lucas’s in a silent “oh my God.” Kelsey having a Pinterest board is just about the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. I love that he has a vision board—I have about twenty myself.
“Not to shoot myself in the foot,” I say hesitantly, “but don’t you already have a marketing agency you use? For Wells Boxing?”
“Yes, but they’re too…” He waves his hand, as if the word will magically conjure in front of him.
“Corporate?” I supply.
“Yes. Exactly. Too corporate. They get the job done, but they don’t give it that personal, unique touch I’m looking for. I want creative, provocative, intoxicating. Something that will get people talking, you know?”
Sounds all too familiar . “Makes sense, especially for such a rare space.”
Design isn’t my specialty, but I know how important ambiance and atmosphere are. The ideas start flowing through my mind like lyrics to a song. Gemini—the unofficial name—has to take expect the unexpected to a whole new level. Serve fancy top-shelf whiskey in small inflatable flamingo pool floaties. Feature tater tots topped with caviar at the bar. Hang a disco ball in a marble-filled bathroom.
“Are you looking for someone full-time? I’m not sure if Lucas told you, but?—”
“You’re a Formula 1 lady.” He nods and smiles. “All good. Right now, I’m just looking for someone to help me get this place up and running.”
I clench my teeth to stop myself from belting out my favorite Hannah Montana jam, “Best of Both Worlds.”
I begin asking Kelsey questions about the bar. They come to me easily, despite the food and beverage industry being wildly different than the motorsport industry. All I have to do is tweak the things I looked for when I did a deep dive into McAllister’s marketing plan to find blind spots and solutions.
Has he done a competitor analysis? What will Gemini have that other places don’t? What’s the sort of crowd he’s hoping to attract? What does he want to be known for—atmosphere, food and drink, the music? All the above? What’s his timeline?
I’m glad I brought my notebook along with my camera because, an hour later, I’ve written down six pages of notes and taken over fifty photos.
“Let’s link up in a week or so?” Kelsey says as the three of us leave the space. “Talk next steps then?”
“Sounds great!” I squeak out.
When he’s out of eyesight and earshot, I lose any ounce of so-called cool I may have. “Oh my God, Lucas! When you said someone, I didn’t think you meant Kelsey Wells. Are you freaking out as much as I’m freaking out? Why do you seem so calm? This is a stop, drop, and roll kind of situation, babes.”
Lucas laughs. “I’m taking it you’re interested?”
“Um, duh. Thanks for thinking of me. Do you think tomorrow is too soon to email him a nice little thank you note? Or should I send, like, candy or something? Are fruit baskets still a thing? Or is that too desperate? I haven’t had a job interview in forever… not that this was an interview, or even a job. I mean, it is, but it’s more of a side hustle, I suppose. Just call me the Hustler. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
I sing Van McCoy’s “The Hustle” as we walk down the alley, toward where Lucas’s car is parked down the street. He stares at me with a what-the-hell-is-happening look. I don’t blame him. I feel like I just downed a pint of ice cream and am experiencing some sort of sugar high. If my mind is going a million kilometers per hour, my mouth is going double that speed.
My phone vibrates as I slide into the passenger seat of Lucas’s jet-black Porsche.
Theo Walker
Did you turn down plans with me to hang out with Lucas?
I whip my head around, expecting Theo to pop out of the backseat. Instead, I see Lucas’s gym bag and an empty plastic water bottle.
Josie Bancroft
Are you stalking me?
Theo Walker
You didn’t answer my text. I thought you died.
His text from a few hours ago read: How do you feel about Fish and Chips for the girls? Very English-themed. My lack of response was supposed to be indicative of my displeasure at his newest name for “the girls.” Each combination he thinks of for my boobs is somehow worse than the last: Sherlock and Watson. Mario and Luigi. Thunder and Lightning. It’s hard to keep a straight face when he comes up with a new moniker solely because his excitement is so genuine.
Josie Bancroft
Reasonable assumption. Death is the only explanation for me not immediately responding to your text.
Theo Walker
Exactly! So I checked to see if you were in a ditch or something. Turns out you’re with Adler.
How in the—? Oh. Ohh. I forgot that I’d shared my location with Theo when we were in Le Mans. Oh, my God. Not that I think he’s been following my movements, but I’m praying he didn’t see that I went to a new Brazilian bikini wax place in Wickham or visited the gelato spot by my flat on back-to-back nights last week.
Josie Bancroft
His friend had some marketing questions.
Theo Walker
You never answer my questions!
Josie Bancroft
Because your questions are weird, Walker. How am I supposed to know why eleven isn’t pronounced onety-one?
Theo Walker
You say weird, I say creative. Can I ask you a normal question?
Josie Bancroft
We have different definitions of normal, but go ahead.
Theo Walker
Want to get dinner on Friday?
Josie Bancroft
You’re in luck, babes. That’s my one free night this week.
It’s the first time in a while I’ve had a jam-packed week of plans. Plans I made, plans I’m excited about, plans with my friends. Plans that in-a-relationship-Josie would have probably turned down or pushed off until they eventually never happened.
Theo Walker
It’s a date, princess. :)
“Who ya texting over there, Jos?” Lucas asks in a teasing tone. “Do you have a new man in your life?”
“Nope,” I say a little too quickly. Technically, not a lie, since Theo is, by no means, new . We’ve known each other for years now. “Just texting a friend.”
He quickly glances at me, a not-so-subtle bullshit look on his face. “I’ve never blushed at my phone like that from a friend texting me.”
“Maybe your friends aren’t as good as mine,” I say with a wink.
I’ve never had a friend spend hours between my legs, treating my body like it’s the eighth wonder of the world, but here we are.