Page 22 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)
TWENTY-TWO
JOSIE
Summer break means four uninterrupted weeks of no travel. Four weeks of falling asleep in my own bed. Four weeks of sleeping in until ten a.m. on the weekends. Four weeks of having a normal schedule.
It also means four weeks without Theo.
I don’t realize how seamlessly he snuck his way into the weekly routine I’ve carefully crafted and curated until he isn’t at my Tuesday spin class with me, complaining about his balls losing circulation. We text and FaceTime, of course, but Australia is eleven hours ahead of London. He sleeps while I’m awake, and I’m snoozing when he’s up and active, and that makes it a little difficult to catch up when you’re on complete opposite schedules.
Luckily for me, I’ve been more than busy enough to keep myself occupied. I only work three-day weeks during the break—a nice tradeoff for working race weekends—so I’ve had lots of time to dedicate to Gemini, which is now the official name of Kelsey’s bar. Instead of spending my days off sleeping in and spending time with friends, I’m combing through the dark depths of the internet to locate an old-timey gumball machine that would look perfect in the bar.
Walking into the room that disguises Gemini’s entrance, a smile lights up my face. Gibson and Fender guitars hang on the walls while bin upon bin wait to be filled with records. A glass-top counter occupies the right side of the space, housing limited edition albums and rare finds. Kelsey loved my suggestion to turn the entry space into a record shop, so I’ve been sourcing items to make it a reality. He fully trusts my best judgment to test and try what works best. It’s a nice change of pace and one I’m taking seriously.
Kelsey calls out my name from one of the barstools as I enter the bar itself. It’s still dimly lit, with low lights and neon signs, but now decor is starting to bring the space to life. A bright blue jukebox is nestled in the back corner and red leather barstools sit against a brass foot rail at the walnut wood bar.
Kelsey holds up a massive faux oil painting of his bulldog, Hamilton, dressed up as a king. After finding an Etsy shop that turns pet photos into portraits of distinguished historical figures, I knew Gemini wouldn’t be complete without a few. There’s nothing better than a Dachshund wearing knight’s armor or a Great Dane dressed as Henry the VIII.
“You may need to order another one of these,” he says with a pleased smile. “Because my daughter wants this one for herself.”
His large frame makes it look like he’s sitting in a chair meant for children. Despite his intimidating size and the fact that his nickname insinuates he’s a killing machine, Kelsey’s surprisingly mellow. His voice is rich and soft, and he always acts as if he’s just walked out of a Zen meditation session.
“Happy to.” I laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”
He nods emphatically as I slide into the seat next to him. We work in comfortable silence for the next few hours with the occasional off-handed comment or question. Working on the website copy, I struggle to write Kelsey’s bio. The world knows who he is; there’s page after page on Google about him—the early stages of his career, his boxing stats, all his fights, his failed marriage. I know more about his childhood than I remember about my own. Glancing up, I say, “Question.”
“Answer.”
“What made you want to open this place? Professional boxer to business owner is a big jump. I mean, I know Wells Boxing is a business, but it’s more in the line of your career. Not that owning a bar can’t be your career. I just, um… well, they’re very different is all. Not that I think different is bad. And tons of celebs have opened places. Hugh Jackman, Ryan Gosling, Lady Gaga. But why not start a protein powder business? Or activewear line? Something you’re more familiar with. Granted, maybe your great-great-grandfather owned a pub or a food truck—wait… were food trucks around then? Regardless. It could be part of your history and that’s why you wanted to. Who knows? Well, you do. Suppose I should let you answer the question now.” I bite down on my lip to get myself to stop speaking.
“It’s a fair question.” He chuckles and drums his fingers against the table as he thinks. After a minute of silence, he replies, “I’ve been boxing since I was a kid, but I’m fifty-one now. I’m ready to try something new . It may be out of my wheelhouse, but I’m determined enough to make it work. And if it doesn’t? C’est la vie .”
I don’t speak French, but I know enough to understand that famous phrase.
“This place will definitely work out,” I reassure him.
“Yeah?” He lifts his brows, a smile playing on his lips. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m just as determined to make it happen.”
I’m dead asleep later that night when my phone rings not once, not twice, but three times. The only person who has this persistent strategy—even when we’re in the same time zone—is Theo.
“Hello?” I answer groggily.
“‘Ello, angel.”
“It’s,” I hold out my phone to look at the time, “two in the morning, Theo.”
“But it’s a Friday night,” he argues. “I thought maybe you’d be out or something.”
I’m too tired to roll my eyes, so I just sigh. Even when I do go out on a Friday night, midnight is my cut off. One a.m. if I’m feeling extra rowdy. “I was out cold, not out at a bar.”
He pauses before saying, “But you’re up now, right?”
“Yes.” Turning on my side, I press the phone against my ear. “What’s going on?”
He makes some sort of grunt-slash-choking noise. “I hate Richard living in my house.”
Any annoyance I have fades. Theo’s discomfort over his mum’s boyfriend moving in with her has come out in full force during this visit home. If anyone saw his texts to me when Richard moved where the spoons go in the kitchen, there’s a slight chance he’d be arrested. “What’d he do?”
“Well, for starters, he’s there ,” Theo says with a hmph . “Which is annoying of him.”
“Absolutely horrible.” I gasp playfully. “How dare he!”
Theo laughs, although it doesn’t have the same depth as his usual one. “The worst part is that Charlotte doesn’t think it’s weird at all that our mum’s now living with him. He was our dad’s manager, for fuck’s sake. It’s so messed up, yet I’m the only one who cares.”
“Have you tried speaking with Charlotte about it?”
He makes a noise of non-committal. “She says I’m being melodramatic.”
“And your mum?”
“I don’t know what I’d say to her,” he says quietly. “It’s… it’s hard enough, you know? Watching them together.”
My lips curve into a frown. “I’m sorry, babes.”
There’s a long pause. “It’s okay, angel. How were things at Gemini today?”
“Good.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. “Kelsey loved the dog portraits I ordered.”
Theo lets out a long laugh. “I’d be worried if he didn’t enjoy a Husky dressed as a colonel.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, fighting back a yawn. “He started interviewing some chefs, too.”
A loud ohh filters through the phone. “Anyone good?”
“Well, I hope they’re all good.” I giggle. “But I’m not really sure who’s in the running.”
“He’s doing something without you?” Theo gasps noisily. “Hell must have frozen over.”
Marketing may be my area of expertise, but I’ve become Kelsey’s right-hand woman. He asks for my opinion on everything from drink names to bar staff uniforms to what kind of lock the bathroom doors should have.
“I’ve got enough on my plate,” I reply. “But I am going to the tasting in a few weeks when he hires someone.”
“Good. You deserve it.” Theo chuckles. He waits a beat before adding, “Am I keeping you up? Do you want to go back to bed?”
“I’m okay,” I admit. “It’s nice talking to you rather than listening to you talk to your twelve million Instagram followers in a live video.”
“You said you didn’t watch any of my content!”
My cheeks heat in the darkness of my room. Of course I watch it. Theo’s a one-man show who doesn’t need any props or co-stars. But he also has an ego bigger than most, and it’s never been my job to feed it.
“Whatever,” I huff. “I want to hear more about Australia. What have you been doing?”
“Well, the other day, Ri?—”
“No Richard. I want to hear about you .”
Theo sighs deeply. “Fine, fine. Your wish is my command, princess.”
I close my eyes as he recaps the adventures he’s gone on while home. Dune-buggying across muddy hills. Playing rugby with childhood friends. Checking out a few microbreweries. I’m lulled into a deep sleep by the steady warmth of his voice.