Page 24 of Drive Me Crazy
“Says the girl who just asked if I wanted to eat her nuts,” he shoots back.
The snort that comes out of me is anything but cute.
“Uh, I think I missed a season or two,” Theo cuts in with adevilish smile. If there were popcorn in front of him, he’d be shoveling it into his mouth by the handful. Interesting that Blake hasn’t told his bestie that he propositioned me for sex. Okay, well, it wasn’t propositioning, but it was close to it.
Blake shrugs. “Ella doesn’t like sex.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, bud,” I say in a consoling voice.
Theo throws Blake a puzzled look, trying to read his friend, but Blake is giving him absolutely nothing to work with. He’s too focused on surveying me. I don’t think he’s ever been turned down in his life.
“Now, if we’re done here, Blake was about to show me his cock—cockpit. The inside of his cockpit. His car’s cockpit. Inside of his car … that he drives.”
Talk about a Freudian slip. Blake shoots me a smug look as if he can read my innermost thoughts. The most annoying part of how good-looking he is, is that he knows how good-looking he is. I don’t think he knows what the wordhumblemeans.
As the late and great Formula 1 commentator Murray Walker once said, “I should imagine that the conditions in the cockpit are totally unimaginable.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Blake’s cockpit is going to stay very unimaginable and very inside his pants.
ELEVEN
Blake
MONACO IS PACKED with celebrities from all over the world flying in to enjoy the race weekend. The city begins to smell like Chanel No. 5 as hordes of models, actresses, and singers flood the streets. And don’t even get me started on the men. If you’re not dressed from head to toe in Armani, Gucci, or Louis Vuitton, you may as well not be here. It’s a whose-dick-is-the-biggest competition, and although I’d most definitely win, I have no interest in participating.
I’m focused on the race. I start in P2 but move into first after Theo rams into the wall on a turn, damaging his car and requiring an early retirement from the race. After the two-hour circuit, I secure my sixth consecutive Monaco Grand Prix win. It feels fucking fantastic. Harry congratulates me and I thank him without any malice or sarcasm. The humming from my car and the cheers from the crowds as I take my victory lap match my own energy.
The VIP section of the ceremony is jam-packed with glitz and glam. I spot Ella leaning against the railing, deep in conversation with Josie and one of the Hemsworth brothers—I’m not sure which one. I hope it’s the married one. Or areboth of them married? Isn’t there a third one? I’m not sure. I make eye contact with her from the podium, and she gives me a big wave. She’s wearing a McAllister hat featuring my name and number. It somehow makes my win even better.Suck on that, Thor.
The festivities are in full swing by the end of the press conference. This means I’m exchanging a race suit for a navy suit almost right away. I’m slated to attend some party where Diplo’s performing. The club is a shitshow. Sweaty bodies everywhere, drinks spilling left and right. Not that I don’t have a good time rubbing shoulders with the female fans who throw themselves at me all night, but right now the entire situation is giving me a migraine.
Lucas and Theo are thriving. I’m pretty sure Theo’s getting a handy as he sticks his tongue down the throat of some fake blonde at our table. No amount of bottle service can erase that from my mind. I quickly divert my attention away so I don’t see any more. How he can yell at me for eating a crisp off a table but then go and do shit like this is beyond my wildest imagination.
Around midnight, we head over to the second event of the night. It’s an invite-only party hosted by Dom Perignon. Scoring an invitation means you’ve made it, or you’re rich and famous enough to buy your way in. I’ve gone every year. I scan the crowd, taking in the impressive array of people. I’ve already spotted George Clooney and Naomi Campbell when I see Josie talking to some people by the bar. Ella’s never too far away from her new bestie. Theo must have seen Josie too because he’s off without another word. Lucas and I trail behind him like lost puppies.
“If it isn’t my favorite Formula 1 female.” Theo sweeps his eyes up and down her body. “Lookin’ good, Jos.”
Josie’s not my type, and she’s also not single, but she does look gorgeous in a red minidress.
“Ialways look good, Walker.” Her tone is playful as she flips her hair over her shoulder. “How was the club? Full of sexy women and sloppy guys?”
Theo launches into a five-minute detailed explanation of his now-confirmed under-the-table handjob. Josie looks positively nauseous. Theo may win races, but he is not winning Josie’s approval anytime soon.
“Where’s Ella?” I sip my drink coolly, trying to come off like I’m not dying to see my writer in a little black dress. I’m dying to see her naked, but this will do in the meantime.
“She’s not here.” Josie gives me an imperceptible look. “She left after the podium ceremony.”
My head flinches back. “What?”
Theo tries to shove a vodka shot into my hand, but I ignore him. I’d spoken to Ella right before the race, and she said she’d see me later. She wanted to interview a few celebrities to get some quotes for the book, and Ella wouldn’t miss out on that unless something was seriously wrong.
“She just didn’t want to come.” Dark blond hair twirls around her finger as she studies me. “Not that big of a deal, babes.”
Why would Ella lie about where she was going? And how hadn’t I noticed she was lying? She widens her eyes like she’s surprised whenever she’s not telling the truth. I play back our conversation in my head, trying to pick up on the cues I must have missed.
“Why are you lying?”
“Hollis. Chill.” Theo places a hand on my chest, pushing me away from Josie. I didn’t realize how in her face I was.
Josie looks at me with a desperate appeal in her eyes. “She’s fine, Blake. She went to your place. Just let it go, okay?”
