Page 155 of Forgive You

‘Oh! Look at that beauty!’He will go to the first bee or ladybug he can spot, finding amazement or humor in everything around him. I always laugh my ass off. But on a race weekend, he rarely shows that side of him.

Always the professional.

“Outstanding?”

“No.”

“Excellent?”

“You sound British.”

“How about adequate?”

“How about you just shut up and look pretty?”

We enter the executive office, where Will Packers, CEO of Callahan Motors, and Lennon Brown, my team chief, are already waiting for us from across the table. The room is surrounded by big windows and the glass is fitted with a foil that allows us to look through, but prevents anyone outside in the paddock from peeking in. The real fans who find themselves lucky enough to have paddock passes, the celebrities who Instagram post their way around the track, holding up their phones, countless team members. Everyone is on their way to something, dying to get a glimpse of the drivers.

“Ah, you think I’m pretty?” I bat my lashes and hold my hands under my chin before Axel knocks the air out of my lungs, slapping me on the back with more force than necessary.

Dickhead.

“Shut up,princess.”

With a chuckle, we both sit down in the white leather seats.

“Will. Lennon. How are you guys today?” I fix my attention on the men who are technically my bosses, both sporting whiteCallahan polos, but only Lennon hides his full head of gray hair underneath a white and orange Callahan cap.

They exchange a look that makes my smile dissolve a little bit as I move my gaze back and forth between the two, feeling how the energy in the room shifts to something resembling a cloudy day. They look both tense and bored, their expressions flat. Both of them haven’t been particularly chatty with me in the last few months, but still, the lack of movement has me swallowing away the dryness forming in my throat.

“Good, good, Tristan. Thank you for asking. There is something we need to discuss,” Will replies.

Straight to the point, okay…

I don’t miss how he doesn’t return the pleasantry, and I hear Axel shift in his chair. But then again, Will is not the most amicable person I know. I’ve known him for a few years now and he’s blunter than a butter knife with a vocabulary close to that of a caveman. Meaning, he doesn’t give a shit about anything and isn’t afraid to voice it. I’m used to it now, but the indifference both men are showing in their old and wrinkly features sets my internal system into defense mode while I wait for them to disclose the purpose of this meeting. I thought it was just to discuss the upcoming race, maybe discuss some strategy after the times I’ve set in the first and second free practice today, but the longer I sit in this uncomfortable chair, the more I feel dread washing over me.

“I’m sorry, but we have to let you go,” Will says, and right away, something pulls me under. I can’t pinpoint it, but my muscles turn into lead, challenging me to keep my back straight. Gone is my cheery mood, completely replaced by a cold shower that stings my every nerve.

There is an ease in the way he’s delivering this news that’s most unsettling.

I blink. Ijustblink because, surely, he didn’t just tell me they were letting me go? My brain freezes, in serious need of a reboot.Alt-control-delete. That’s what we use for computers, right? Is there something like that for the human body? Twist head, spin arm, wiggle leg, or something? Because I need my brain to start pulsing with electrodes again. Preferably toward my ability to speak.

My brain might not be able to fully catch up with the wording, but my eyes register the look on Will Packers’s smug face just fine. His bald head shines under the fluorescent lights, fake tan sticking out against that row of perfectly white teeth. He tries to keep his flat lips pressed together, but fails when I find the tiniest lift of his arrogant cheeks. I can’t describe it, but it looks something like,‘Ha! Got ya now, sucker!’

“You’rewhat?” I shake my head, ignoring the slow and torturous drum of my heart that pounds in my ears.Ba-boom. Ba-boom.“You can’t do that. I signed for three years. I still have one year left.”

“We will pay you double to cut you loose.”

They will pay me double tonotrace?

I don’t yell. I never yell. But I’m close to yelling now.

“Hold on—” Axel tries to cut in, but I snap my mouth open before he can.

“I don’t want your money! I want to race!” Racing is who I am. It has been since I found my cousin’s quad in the barn when I was five. I still remember the day in vivid detail. It was dusty and rusty, tucked all the way in the back of the barn, but it was the best Sunday of my little self’s life. I raced up and down the wobbly field next to the barn, smiling from ear to ear. After that day, I begged my dad to take me karting the next weekend. And the next weekend after that. And the next. And now I’m sitting here, twenty-two years later. Being…fucking hell—being sacked?

“And we want you to win,” Will spits back. There is venom in his tone, enough for me to suspect this is personal. Because I know it is.

“Come on, he has been on the podium a few times. It’s not all bad,” Axel argues on my behalf.

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