#Rev (GearShark #2)(50)

People who were discriminated against = indie drivers.

“You’re breaking down walls. And you’re doing it with speed. And now you’re also admitting—no, we’re admitting to being in a relationship. Frankly, it’s one more thing for people to admire.”

“And hate.” I reminded him. Not that I thought he needed a reminder. I thought he knew better than I did. He was the one walking around with cracked ribs.

“Oh, there will be hate.” Gamble agreed and looked at me. “I guess the real question is, are you sure you’re up for this?”

I never wanted to be a role model. I never wanted to be someone to break down walls or even give a voice to people who felt like they were somehow less.

But that’s where I found myself.

I looked at T. The lines and angles of his face were so familiar to me. So strong. He was my best friend and he was my lover. Underneath all that, though, he was a man.

A man with doubts and feelings. With vulnerabilities and insecurities.

I was, too.

We all were.

It didn’t make me less of a driver—less of an athlete. If anything, it made me better.

So while, no, this wasn’t where I expected the road to lead me, here I was. I was lucky. Trent and I had each other. We had family and friends rallying around us to support us.

What about the people who didn’t have anyone? Could I somehow give someone else some kind of hope, even from the cover of a magazine?

I could. I would. But someone else would do it better.

I swung around to Trent. “I think you should do it.”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Call the reporter at GearShark. Start the revolution.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there,” I replied, my attention condensed down to only him. “Always.”

“I like it.” Gamble approved.

“Beef Wellington tastes better hot,” Joey said.

Everyone laughed.

“We’re having beef Wellington?” Trent asked, suddenly more interested in food than anything.

Beef Wellington was good, but it wasn’t French fries.

“It’s Joey’s favorite,” Gamble said.

“So we’re going to do this?” Trent said, setting aside his glass.

“All you have to do is say the word,” Gamble said. “We can go sit down and talk numbers and details while my daughter eats me out of house and home.”

“Yes,” I said.

My heart squeezed again, but this time it wasn’t because I was nervous or even scared.

I was excited.





Trent

Ron Gamble was a man who got shit done.

After one evening in his impressive home, talking business with him, I knew exactly why he was the richest man in the state.

There weren’t many people like him.

He was cunning and quick but still had an uncanny eye for detail. It was like his mind processed things twice as fast as most others. The conversation we had over beef Wellington, creamy mashed potatoes with a hint of horseradish, and roasted root vegetables reminded me why I decided to major in finances at Alpha U.

It was exhilarating.

Most people thought of finance as stodgy and boring. It was all numbers and spreadsheets. Yeah, obviously, that was part of it, but there was so much more. A person in finance had to be good with people, personable.

Some might argue charm was a definite bonus to have. Why? Because people needed to feel comfortable with you. Money made the world go round. Some didn’t like it, but it was a fact. So becoming an advisor on something as big as their finances… well, trust was one of the most important components.

Not only that, but in finance, you learn to not only look at the equation, but at the bigger picture. Numbers are fluid; you can manipulate them to put you on a path to a specific outcome. You must have a clear goal for what you want to achieve, so all the pieces can be laid in place to make a complete picture.

To me, that was exciting. It wasn’t just crunching numbers. It was building something. It was taking risks for big payoffs.

Finance was basically just a narrowed-in business degree, a specialty, but a broader sense of business was still required.

While racing was a sport, and I spent a lot of time beneath a hood lately with Drew and watching him on the track… that wasn’t all there was to it.

This new division was a business. It took a lot of strategic planning to put it together, to get it going, and to make it work. It was fascinating to me, listening to Gamble talk about how it was all being started.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I needed a break from my major or even my chosen career. I felt challenged and motivated to roll up my sleeves and pitch a few ideas of my own.

What impressed me more about Gamble was his willingness to listen. Even though he was extremely successful, he didn’t sit at the table and act like he knew it all. He was eager to bounce ideas with me. Hell, he even asked my opinion on a few things. I wasn’t nearly as experienced as him; I was basically still in diapers compared to him. But it didn’t seem to matter.

He liked blunt, so that’s what I gave him. I asked him why.

His response?

I was young and hungry. I was almost fresh out of college, and I had a vested interest in this budding revolution of racing because Drew was at the center of it. In his experience, sometimes actual work experience wasn’t as good as a fresh eye and a new outlook. Beyond that, I’d been in the circles with Drew for a while now. I’d been in the indie world, and since I wasn’t a driver, I probably had a different perspective, a perspective that would be useful on the business side.