Page 5 of Drive Me Crazy
Taking a calming breath, I paste a friendly smile on my face and say, “Hi, I’m Ella.” I stick out my hand in introduction. Blake stares at it for a few seconds before quickly shaking it. I’m praying he doesn’t notice how clammy my hands are.
His chocolate-brown eyes roam over me as if he’s undressing me in his mind. The eye contact is aggressively brazen but somehow doesn’t cross the line of being creepy. Someone needs to turn on the AC immediately because I’m starting to sweat. Photos don’t do him justice. His unruly dark brown hair makes it seem like he woke up from a nap right before the meeting and let me tell you, bedhead looks good on him.
“Coffee,” he grunts.Well, at least he said something.
Blake reaches out and grabs the Styrofoam cup from my hand.Excuse moi?Before I can tell him I didn’t bring him coffee and he just hijacked mine, he takes a large sip. His face says it all and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Serves him right.
“That’s mine,” I state plainly.
“I thought you brought me coffee.”
“Why would you think that?” I’m not his assistant. We’ve never even met. How am I supposed to know how he likes his coffee?
“Asa peace offering,” he explains with a shrug. “Since you said you’re not sure how my helmet fits considering my ego makes my head twelve sizes too big.”
He doesn’t bother hiding the cold contempt in his eyes. Oh boy. There goes my secret hope that he hadn’t heard that episode ofCoffee with Champions. This is going to befun, fun, fun.
“Your head looks pretty normal-sized today,” I comment coolly.
“You ragging on me to millions of people probably deflated it a bit.”
That’s a bit of an overestimation. My podcast may have hit number five on Spotify’s podcast charts at one point, but millions? C’mon. I’m no Joe Rogan … or Connor Brixton.
“I also talked about the amount of raw talent you have,” I remind him.
“That’s not anything I haven’t heard before. I know how talented I am.”
I take back what I said about his head looking normalsized. It’s inflating right in front of my eyes.
“You insulted my driving,” he fumes, his chiseled jaw tensing. “And me.”
“I discussed you in one episode of a podcast that’s no longer a thing. I apologize if I hurt your feelings, but I wouldn’t have accepted this job if I didn’t think you were remarkably talented.”
“You shouldn’t have accepted the job.” He narrows his eyes. “Not sure why you did.”
Jeez.Make a few critical comments about a guy and he acts like you’ve mortally wounded him.
“No offense, Blake, but grow a pair and get over it. I know for a fact there are women who’ve said way worse things about you. I read the tabloids.”
I swear one corner of his mouth twitches, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears. Blake’s publicist Marion walks inwearing the exact shade of red lipstick I was praying Poppy didn’t get me. Her shirt’s wrinkled and smudges of residual mascara sit under her eyes. I don’t blame her. I know she’s been working overtime to help Blake’s image. The fact that she secured a book deal so quickly is astonishing. I can only imagine how overwhelmed she feels by it all.
“Nice to meet you in person, Ella!” The crow’s feet at her eyes fold as she smiles. “I’m glad to see you two are already getting acquainted with one another.”
The open defiance of Blake’s glower tells a different story. He’d rather get acquainted with the casket he hopes to put me in. I should’ve added something stronger than almond milk to my coffee. Maybe Jameson?
Keith waltzes in moments later looking like a very handsome Daniel Craig during his James Bond era—rugged and weathered, but in an extremely sexy way. He’s got the whole salt-and-pepper look going on even though he’s in his late thirties. I wouldn’t be surprised if Blake kickstarted his grays. If that starts happening to me, Blake can pay my salon bills.
Marion video conferences George in before starting a “team” meeting. I nod along as she talks, taking notes on my computer. It’s not anything new. Even though George hired me, I still had to meet with both Marion and Keith before beingofficiallybrought on board. The life of Blake Hollis is nothing to joke about, after all.
Blake doesn’t say much except a few mumbled “hmphs” and “sure, yeahs.” It’s impossible not to stare at him. I wonder if he’s ever broken his nose. There’s a slightly crooked curve in the middle. He catches me looking at him and shoots me a wink.Who fucking winks at someone?Especially after our conversation, if you can even call it that.
It disarms me, turning my cheeks the color of Marion’s lipstick. I fight back the urge to blurt out that I was only staring because I’m concerned that if he keeps scowling, he’s going toneed Botox by the time he turns thirty next year. I avoid looking in his general direction for the rest of the meeting, especially because I can feel his eyes fixed on me.
MCALLISTER’S TEAM is huge with just over two hundred people. That’s not even including those based out of their headquarters in London. This means I have a lot of names to learn and a lot of people to meet. I throw on a McAllister shirt courtesy of Keith, slip on my cute new necklace—which is actually a lanyard I have to wear in order to get access into the paddock—and am on my way. Day two, here we go!
The air is electric as everyone gets ready for the first race of the tour. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Engineers, mechanics, drivers, media—anyone and everyone seems to be here. They buzz around, never stopping in one place for too long. I quickly realize this is not the time to interrupt people to introduce myself. The team’s too focused on making sure Blake and McAllister have a successful Grand Prix.
I’m wandering around aimlessly when a girl in a McAllister shirt that matches my own blazes a path straight toward me. Before I know what’s happening, she’s pulling me into a hug.Um, hello to you too, strange woman.
