Page 91 of Drive Me Wild
He pretends not to hear me as he scans the room with a scowl. Reporters shout questions over one another, trying to askthe follow-up questions that are bound to be replayed on every sports show for the next few days.
“Blake, what gripes do you have with the CEO?” a woman from SkySports shouts. “Do you think he’s not leading McAllister in the right direction?”
I kick Blake’s shin under the table, hoping to distract him, but he doesn’t even flinch.Fuck.
“I think James Avery presents a potential risk to the integrity of Formula 1 as a whole, not just McAllister. That’s what happens when you care more about the money than the honest outcome of the competition. His actions go against the very definition of the word sports and if?—”
My hands shoot out in front of Blake, knocking his microphone off the table. It falls to the ground with a loudthudthat everyone hears since the room’s gone completely quiet. I’m not sure who’s more startled by my actions, though I think it’s me.
What the fuck is he thinking?
“We need to talk,” I murmur under my breath.
“Uh, I’m kind of in the middle of something, mate. Like saving your contract.”
“Meet me under the table. Now.”
Without a second thought, I sink down into my seat and onto the floor, slithering underneath the black Formula 1 tablecloth covering the table and crouching on the scratchy green-and-gold-patterned carpet.
“Walker, I’m not getting under the table with you,” Blake hisses. His dark eyes move back and forth from me to the roomful of reporters. “We’re at a goddamn press conference.”
“Unless you want me sharing what happened in Barcelona,” I say, throwing him a pointed look, “I suggest you crawl under this table with me.”
Barcelona involved a cop Blake thought was a stripper. Not a story that should be shared, probably ever. Mumbling something about how he wants to strangle me, Blake pushes back his chair and joins my impromptu hide-out. It’s an extremely cramped space meant only for legs, not two full-grown men.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “You’re going to get sued for slander or defamation or whatever the fuck it’s called. I hate Avery more than anyone, but I’m not going to let you risk your career just to start shit with him.”
“Nothing I said was untrue.” Blake shakes his head. “He’s spot-fixing based on the clause in your contract.”
I blink slowly. Gambling has never been my thing, but even I know that ensuring a certain result in a prop bet isveryillegal. “Excuse me?”
Blake huffs. “I have proof that he’s been in contact with sports wagering sites to make a buck at your—and McAllister’s—expense.”
“How in the hell do you know this? Did you hack him?”
Blake shrugs. “Yes. Well, no, not me personally. Jesse Adler did.”
My jaw nearly hits the floor. Lucas doesn’t talk to his brother Jesse anymore, so for him to reach out for this? To code and hack and do cool shit for me? Holy hell.
“Paul and I came up with a plan,” Blake says firmly. “It’s all going to work out. You can re-sign your contract, and Avery will be gone. It’s a win-win for everyone.”
“Who the hell is Paul?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice down. “I told you not to tell anyone, Blake.”
He narrows his eyes. “My therapist.”
I know now’s not the time to dig into this, but old habits die hard. “His name is Paul? I always envisioned him as more of a William or a Gregory. Does he look like a Paul?”
“What the hell is a Paul supposed to look like, Theo?” Blake gives me a perfected eye roll. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Can you just let me expose Avery so you can re-sign your contract and we can move on from this?”
I pause and shake my head. “I’m not sure I’m going to re-sign with McAllister.” My voice sounds way more confident than expected.
Blake’s head shoots back so violently, it slams against the underside of the table. A barrage of colorful swear words fly from his mouth. “Why the hell not? Is this because of Josie?”
“No, it’s… I mean yes, but no. Part of why I love McAllister so much is because of her, but now that she’s not here…” I take a deep breath, knowing once I say it, I can’t take it back. “I wonder if my dedication to McAllister is holding me back from other opportunities. Maybe it’s time to let go and try something new. Drive for another team. Focus on me instead of what everyone expects from me.”
What I thought my dad wanted for me.
“Wow,” he mutters. “Um, shit. Well okay. Paul and I didn’t really prepare for that outcome.”
