Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(12)

Chris, our team principal, manages the McCoy crew, including Jax and me. Peter bringing him up adds to my embarrassment, knowing I pissed off a man who has always believed in me.

I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I’ll make sure to drive my best, and I’ll keep my dick out of the papers this season while making McCoy proud. No question about it.”

Peter stands. “You’ve got a tough season ahead of you, with Santiago joining Bandini and Noah having a fire lit under him from new competition. James Mitchell wants another win. I expect nothing but the best work from you and Jax, especially with the new lineup of cars we have for you. Now get out of here and go test the car out. I want to hear positive reports from the team.”

Peter doesn’t have to tell me twice. I say goodbye and leave like my ass is on fire. Somehow, I dodged a bullet. I’m shocked at how Peter seemed a lot more relaxed than I anticipated, but I can’t help worrying about it all being a false sense of security—a trap to see if I fail again. But this time I’ll stay aware and think before I act.

There’s no need to harp on the conversation because this shit needs to be put behind me, including the crap my dad brought up today about Johanna. I don’t race in F1 for the drama. No, I race for trophies, titles, and titties—except the latter now remains off the table for an unforeseeable future thanks to my recent blunders.

I want to keep the past in the past, right where those fucking bad memories belong.





4





Sophie





Whoever came up with the statement B.F.E. clearly hasn’t been to China. It’s far, like probably the farthest I’ll ever travel in my lifetime. Hence the reason my carry-on backpack looks about one second away from exploding because I take my snacks seriously.

Earlier, I didn’t blink when the security man ruffled through my stash, pulling out my bag of cereal like it insulted him. Yes, I still eat Fruity Pebbles. Sue me. I’m a twenty-one-year-old with a dietary range of a child. But my list includes try new food, right next to do karaoke while drinking and go skydiving. Baby steps, right?

The airport bursts with activity. My hand clutches the handles of my luggage while I evade the countless bodies funneling through the baggage terminal. I smile at the older Chinese man who holds up a sign that reads Sophie “Biggest Pain in My Ass” Mitchell.

Dad, always a charmer. The driver grabs my bags and gives me a respectful nod, not letting me lift a finger. I get into the backseat of the waiting town car. My nose gets a whiff of fresh citrus and leather while I listen to the hum of Shanghai pass us by, the rumbling of the car calming my post-travel nerves.

I drop off my luggage at the hotel and take a quick shower before I visit the motorhome suite area. Team members hang out at the motorhomes before, during, and after the races. They’re known as the ultimate relaxation spot where each team has their space to discuss logistics, eat, and take breaks.

I enter the Bandini motorhome and smile at the familiar colors of scarlet red and yellow. It fills me with warmth and fond memories, thinking back to my childhood where I ran through these halls with my dad chasing after me.

I patrol the food bar, hoping to find something to hold me over until dinnertime when I run into someone. We both let out an oomph as we catch our footing.

I stare into a pair of honey-brown eyes framed by thick lashes. My eyes roam over a woman who looks like a Spanish model, taking in long brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin.

My cheeks heat. “Oh, sorry about that. I’m such a clumsy person.” No doorjamb, chair, or bedpost leaves my big toe unstubbed.

“It’s no problem. I run into things all the time too. I haven’t seen you around here before.” She shoots me a genuine smile.

“I’m Sophie. You probably haven’t because I just got here.”

“Maya. I haven’t seen anyone my age except my brother. Glad I ran into you—literally.”

I let out a laugh. “It’s my first time joining the race. I wrapped up my classes early for the year to spend time with my dad while he tours. Can’t say no to a free vacation.”

“I graduated in December! And who’s your dad? I guess he’s with Bandini then?” She waves around the busy lobby.

I tug on my gold star necklace. “My dad is the team principal. He’s the one who runs the show around here.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, wow. And you’re going to be here for the rest of the season?”

“I’m going to try to convince my dad to let me take my fall classes online so I can stick around for the whole Prix schedule. It’s my first time around since I was younger, so I have to take advantage.” Not that she needs to know, but I already have my speech prepared and everything.

“Nice, we can hang out since I’m going to be here for the whole season. It’ll be awesome to have someone my age keeping me young.”

I steer us toward an empty table, asking Maya to spill the latest gossip happening around the F1 paddock. Maya and I eat lunch, chatting about how she plans on vlogging during her travels with the team. She tells me how Santiago Alatorre is her brother. Lucky me, I didn’t know Bandini’s newest driver came with a sister as a bonus.





Maya and I spend the day together before the big gala meant to honor all the F1 racers—a soirée rivaling Jay Gatsby’s. Maya gives me the rundown on everything Bandini while we hang out in her hotel room and get ready for the event.