Page 33 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)

THIRTY-THREE

THEO

The afternoon sun shines through the window, heating the otherwise cool room. I hold up my hand to shade my eyes from the bright rays hitting me. It’s a surprisingly warm day in Sochi. I can switch seats—the paddock conference room has more than enough—but I need to spare my energy for this conversation.

Russell and Martin sit across the table from me like this is some sort of high-level, top-secret debrief—which, I guess it sort of is. I ignore their intense gazes and click on my text exchange with Josie. No new messages.

“We need to chat about the latest revisions in the McAllister contract,” Martin says. “You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“Yes, I can,” I argue. Revisions, my ass . They took out a few words that held no meaning. The things I give a shit about—what they know I care about—have stayed the same.

Russell rolls his eyes at me. He’s still slightly pissed at me for accidentally saying “shit” in front of Rosalie last week. She’s now incorporating it into almost every sentence. He says I need to watch my language, but I think he should be proud his daughter is such a quick learner.

“Do I need to knock some sense into you, Walker?” Martin huffs.

“I can do it,” Russell volunteers with a grin. He leans back in his chair, the pleather squeaking from the movement.

I make an imperceptible sound under my breath.

“Nothing has changed,” I grunt. “The contract still sucks. Avery still sucks. They still want me to suck.”

Neither disagrees with me. “I’ve pulled out every stop in the book, Theo,” Martin says, sounding defeated. “Worked with lawyers to update the language, tried to find loopholes… McAllister won’t budge.”

Avery won’t budge because he holds a grudge. They should teach that rhyme in Rosalie’s school.

“They could be willing to make more changes to the contract once the year is up,” Russell adds. “But you need to decide if you can deal with this contract.”

The thought of having to deal with renegotiations like this again next year makes me nauseous, like the time I ate two boxes of Sour Patch Kids in a row. I don’t think I’ll throw up, but I wouldn’t hedge any money on it, either.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“Let’s review your other options.” Martin’s ability to switch gears is impressive. “Who do you want to start with?”

“Whoever.”

Martin sighs. I know that sigh. It’s his ‘what am I going to do with you’ sigh—the one he makes when I’m not making his life easy. “We’re coming down to the wire, mate. The press is only going to get more inquisitive about where you stand on negotiations. We’ve got to start making some decisions. Decide who you want to drive for.”

McAllister is still the end goal, but I don’t know if I can come to terms with what that means for my career. Slipping my phone into my pocket—but not before making sure it’s on full volume—I give my manager and performance coach my undivided attention. We’ve met with Catalyst, Porsche, and AlphaVite, and they’ve all extended offers. As much as I want to re-sign with McAllister, it does feel good to be wanted.

“I vote we take Catalyst out of the running,” Russell kicks things off.

I nod. “Agreed. Their team principal is meh.”

Martin picks up his Montblanc pen, crossing them off the list of teams who have offered me a contract. “What about Porsche?”

I shrug. “No strong feelings either way.”

“I’ll leave them as a maybe.” He nods and draws a big question mark. “And AlphaVite?”

Lucas’s current driving partner, Mateo Bertole, is retiring from Formula 1 after the season, leaving an open seat on the team. I’d be making a few million less than I am now, but their new team principal has a clear plan for AlphaVite’s future—one that’s equally rooted in leadership and partnership. There’s a lot of room for growth, and at least I know I’d get along well with my driving partner.

“It’s a good contract,” I admit as I drum my fingers against the table. “And I like Green.”

So does Josie. AlphaVite’s team principal David Green is her Formula 1 crush.

“They also switched to a Mercedes-produced engine,” Martin points out. “It’s definitely upped their competitive edge.”

I nod thoughtfully. They came second in the Constructors’ last year, which surprised the hell out of everyone, even them. “Competitive enough to win more championships, though?”

“With you behind the wheel?” Russell nods. “No doubt in my mind, mate.”

“And AlphaVite’s headquarters aren’t too far of a drive from London, which is convenient,” Martin adds.

My phone lets out a short beep and I nearly break my hand trying to wrestle it out of my pant pocket. Fuck . It’s from Ella. I’m a guest on her podcast this week, and we’re recording in her hotel room later. Given my always running twenty minutes behind schedule timetable, she wants to confirm I’ll be there on time . And risk a scolding from Blake? Fat fucking chance.

Martin coughs loudly to recapture my focus. Somehow, he knows I’m no longer an active participant in the conversation. “Can you focus again, please?”

“Yes.”

“I was saying,” he raises his eyebrows as if he doesn’t quite believe I’m listening, “we should see if they’d go up half a mil more if you bring on Pegasus as a team sponsor.”

“No.”

Russell’s eyes widen at my snappy tone. “Any particular reason why ?”

“They’re my sponsor.” Even I cringe at how bratty I sound. Taking a deep breath, I explain, “I’ve been with Pegasus for over ten years. I’m not gambling my relationship with them just for more money.”

I’m also not gambling away another piece of my dad. Pegasus was his sponsor, and now they’re mine. No team is taking another damn thing away from me.

“If you sign with AlphaVite, we’d ensure your personal sponsorship supersedes the team sponsorship, yeah?”

“He’s right,” Russell agrees. “And Pegasus is Team Theo. That’s not about to change.”

I nod. “Alright. Ask them about it. Is that it? Are we done?”

“No, we’re not done, Theo.” Martin sighs. “But considering your attention is that of a toddler who just snorted a Pixie stick, we can pick back up tomorrow. Deal?”

“Cool.” I nod as if I’m going to be any less unfocused tomorrow. “Do you blokes mind if I have the room? I have a call to make.”

Martin rubs his smooth head and the Rolex encased around his wrist flashes in the sunlight. “Everything… good?”

“Yep. No dramas, mate.”

I may die of heart palpitations before the call is over, but sure, everything’s good!

“Anything I need to know about?” His eyes nearly disappear as he squints at me. “As your manager?—”

“It’s a personal call,” I reassure him with the flick of a wrist. “Nothing work-related.”

Russell lifts his brows but doesn’t comment. I’ve never been one to shy away from sharing every detail of my personal life, especially with him, so his suspicion is warranted.

It takes twenty minutes for me to work up the nerve to hit the little green call button on my screen. It’s just a casual, friendly phone call. No biggie. Part of me prays it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?” a familiar voice says. “Theodore?”

I roll my eyes. “No. Santa Claus.”

Why is my first reaction always to be a dick to him?

Richard chuckles. “Definitely Theodore. Is everything okay? I’m not with your mum right now. She’s?—”

“I was, uh, actually hoping to talk to you about something,” I stammer awkwardly. “Off the record.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want my mum to worry, is all,” I quickly add.

There’s a brief hesitation before he consents. “Sure. What happens on this call, stays on this call. Just like Vegas.”

My laugh comes without warning. My dad and Richard’s Vegas trip from way back when is legendary in the sense that no one knows what happened, except for the fact that Richard is no longer allowed in the state of Nevada. It’s unclear whether they didn’t remember much of the trip or if it was so raunchy they couldn’t fathom spilling the details.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, first, I want to apologize about what happened in Melbourne. I said some uncalled-for shit and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already apologized, Theodore,” Richard says, his words marked with confusion.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, but um… this time I mean it.”

Deep, loud laughter comes through the phone—just as I think it’s going to end, it lingers. My original half-arse apology to him was to appease my mum, and not because I actually felt bad for being a dick. Call it maturing or realizing that the things I say in the heat of the moment have long-lasting, undesirable consequences, but I do mean it now.

“Well, apology accepted. Again . You are your dad’s son through and through, you know that, right? Always able to make people laugh, whether you mean to or not.”

A sheepish smile spreads across my face. Most people compare me to my dad in terms of my driving—not as many people can look at our similarities strictly as dad and son. “Mum says you talk about him… together.”

What was once weird to me now gives me a small sense of comfort.

“We do,” he admits cautiously. “He was a big part of both of our lives. And I’d never try to replace him, Theo. He’s your dad and he loved you more than anything.”

I crack my knuckles against my thighs. “Do you think… I mean, what are your— Shit, uh… well, did my dad always know he wanted to drive for McAllister?”

There’s a long pause before Richard says, “He almost signed with Giovani.”

My head jerks back at his statement. What? “Giovani? They haven’t been around in,” I attempt to do the math in my head, but give up, “years.”

They were a pretty good team, comparable to today’s Porsche, that had the potential to be great, but just couldn’t seem to get there. They lost their funding a few years after my dad’s retirement.

“If your dad had signed with them, I’m sure their luck would’ve changed,” Richard notes. “But McAllister offered him a contract a few days before he signed with Giovani.”

“And he obviously chose McAllister,” I finish for him.

“Not obviously,” he corrects me. “Your dad was torn. Giovani was offering more money, but he liked the team over at McAllister better. There was more room to grow. More of a chance to make a name for himself. Ultimately, that’s why he chose them.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” I ask, dumbfounded. “I thought he was always ride or die McAllister.”

“He loved McAllister with all his heart, but I’m sure he would’ve been just as happy at Giovani. Or with any team, for that matter. Your dad would’ve entered a damn golf cart in a Grand Prix if it meant he could race.”

I smile to myself at the image. “But he always encouraged me to land a spot driving for McAllister.”

“Because that’s what you wanted. From the moment you knew your dad drove for them, you were a McAllister man, Theodore. And yes, it’s special that you get to drive for your dad’s team, but trust me when I say, he would be just as happy with you driving for another team. It didn’t matter to him as long as you were happy.” He pauses before asking, “And are you? Happy?”

A film of sweat coats my body at his innocent question. Puffing up my cheeks, I blow out a deep breath and tell him everything. And I mean everything. Once given the chance to explode, I’m like Mount Vesuvius, spouting and spitting destructive fire. He stays quiet as I ramble and rage about Avery. My contract. The clauses.

I rest my head on the table once I’m through, not giving a flying fuck about the germs. A sick day doesn’t sound that terrible—at least it’d be an excuse to lock myself away from the world and their questions and opinions.

“I don’t know what to do,” I mumble.

“You have to do what’s best for you ,” Richard says carefully. “And from what you’ve told me, that may mean you driving for another team. If you drove for Everest or Ithaca and they offered you this contract, would you sign it? No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t have even bothered counter-offering. You’d already be knee-deep in negotiations with another team.”

“I’ve met with other teams,” I defend myself weakly.

But they aren’t McAllister . If Josie were here with me now, she’d be singing “I Want You To Want Me” by Cheaptrick.

“I know McAllister means a lot to you, but I promise there’s bigger and better things besides them. My advice? Stop focusing on if McAllister wants you or not and start thinking about if you want them . You’re a goddamn Walker, and any team would be lucky to have you.”