Page 15 of Worth Every Game

“Yeah, I guess,” I say casually. After Robert Lloyd left his card for me at the Marchmont, I called to book my interview and scheduled it for a couple of week’s time. “Robert Lloyd’s a big deal. He represents Amy Moritz.”

“Amy Moritz. Wow.” Kate leans forwards, seeming genuinely excited by this news. “She’s huge. I’m thrilled for you. A real step forward. We’ll get you out of that dive bar in no time.”

I force a smile. There’s an edge of condescension to Kate’s enthusiasm, and although I know she would never deliberately mean it like that, her final comment about the bar reminds me of Jack, calling me alate-night basement singer. I can’t let them dismiss my place of work like that. “I like the Marchmont.”

Kate peers at me, frowning as though she suspects I can’t really mean it. “You don’t want to be there forever though, do you?”

I look at her blankly. Of course, I don’t want to be there forever, but it’s safe and small and contained. It’s familiar.What’s wrong with that?

Nico offers us more drinks, distracting Kate, and saving me from having to respond, and we watch the cars on the track. The race takes longer than I ever imagined it would. If I’d known how long Jack was going to spend out there, I might have thought twice about coming.

Actually, I’d still have come, but I might have worn something more weather-appropriate. Jeans, maybe. As it is, I’m tugging my tiny skirt down over my thighs in a pathetic attempt to stay warm.

As we watch, Kate and I share all our news, have more drinks, and eat a multitude of snacks, but after a while, she turns away, focusing her attention on Nico and his friends who surround usin the stands, leaving me with only her mother to talk to. Mrs Lansen is awful… I’m pretty sure she’s never liked me.

“How’s the waitressing going, Eleanor?” she asks, not taking her eyes off Jack’s car.

Of all our group, she’s the only one whose appreciation of Jack can rival mine. Kate’s always banging on about how their mum only has eyes for Jack, and she never got a look in. I can see that now, in the way Mrs Lansen nearly explodes whenever Jack’s car comes into view.

“I’m a musician,” I say.

She flaps a hand as though my statement is an inconsequential irritation, like a buzzing mosquito. “Oh, sure. But that doesn’t pay your bills, does it? I thought you’d have given up on that dream by now. How long has it been?”

Inside my chest, something starts shrinking.She’s so judgmental.I’ve no idea how Kate turned out to be such a lovely person with this woman for a mother. Then again, my own parents aren’t much better. They hated me choosing to focus on music, constantly urging me to train to be a lawyer or something more stable. Where Mrs Lansen bothers to ask, they ignore it entirely, as though my choices are unspeakable. I’m on my own out here.

“I’m never giving up,” I state, and Mrs Lansen’s eyebrows shoot up in disapproval before she takes a tight sip of her drink. Her lips are squeezed together so hard I’m not sure how she can get any liquid through them. Awkward silence passes between us, swallowed up by the roar of the cars and the people roundabout.

Down on the track, Jack overtakes on the inside in a nifty manoeuvre that has my heart galloping. Those cars are moving so fast, how could anyone survive if something went wrong? I can’t imagine how brave you must be to get behind the wheel and race like that. It’s insane. This is the craziest hobby ever.

Kate and Nico are both leaning forward in their seats, staring down at the track. I know Nico’s brothers are racing too, but I wasn’t paying attention to them or their cars. I have no idea how they’re getting on. I’ve been absorbed with Jack.

Mrs Lansen sets her drink down on the ground to clap her hands. “What a man my son is,” she says, eyes pinned to his car as he slips into first place. “A champion in every way.”

I feel oddly nauseous that watching Jack has me experiencing a similar sensation to the one it clearly ignites in Mrs Lansen, except her claim on him is a real blood tie. Whereas mine is…nothing. A surreal evening of flirtation.

I absolutely won’t indulge these bizarre feelings I’m having. I’m already here on account of them, but I certainly won’t give Mrs Lansen the satisfaction of knowing I agree with her.

“Excuse me, but I really have to pee.” I deliberately emphasize the word ‘pee’ for shock value. I get up abruptly, intending to push my way along the row of seats to the aisle. Mrs Lansen widens her eyes as if to say ‘how rude’ and I wonder who the gesture is for. Me? Or anyone who might be watching her? All her actions seem like that… as though she thinks people are paying attention to her every movement.

Her gaze shifts from me to the racetrack. “Oh,” she squeaks, jumping from her seat. “Go on, Jack.” She screams, and everyone starts yelling as Jack moves into the the final lap.

My heart begins to race as Jack’s car zooms across the line so fast it’s nearly a blur. Everyone goes wild. Nico is on his feet, punching the air and Kate’s jumping up and down, hugging him.

Jack’s won the whole bloody race, and I have no one to celebrate with. I’m damned if I’m going to start hugging Mrs Lansen, even if her darling son did seal the win.

We watch as the rest of the cars cross the line, and I keep my eyes on Jack until the moment it’s all over and he starts spraying champagne like it’s as inconsequential as water from a tap. He’selated, and the energy coming off him is so strong I find myself grinning down at him, wishing I was standing right next to him to celebrate the win.

But I really do need to pee, and now that the race is over, I’ll have to run to miss the queues for the bathrooms. As much as I’d like to stay and watch Jack, I have to go. I push my way through and dash to the bathrooms.

By the time I come out, the audience is filtering from the seats, and the corridors back here are filling up with rowdy spectators.

I hear another roar of applause and male voices yelling. More people. How will I find my way back to Kate and Nico? I should have told them where I was going. I start to jog, easing my way through the crowds, back to the doorway I left from. I swing round a corner and there, coming towards me at speed, is Jack Lansen, all wrapped up in that padded suit, sweat-slicked dark hair plastered to his head.

He’s not looking where he’s going, staring over his shoulder at something behind him. At the last second, he turns to face me, an agitated expression carving up his handsome features. But he doesn’t stop before—

Slam.

Pain thumps through me as his hot, hard body crashes into me.

---