Page 17 of All That Glitters
The back of the house looked out over the ocean. Hale’s room upstairs, across and down the hall from mine had a balcony that opened to it. My room faced the driveway. I was more comfortable seeing what or who was coming at all times.
I’m not sure what that said about me.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“You know, we could…” He left the words hanging over his shoulder.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Tell me what I have to say.”
“The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave. Nothing says we have to stay the whole time.” We always stayed way beyond when everyone else had left. That was then, though. And this was now. Everything had changed.
A tight smile crossed his lips as he offered his arm and escorted me out. A breeze kicked up causing me to shiver and my hand automatically went to the top of my head. The salty ocean air made my nose twitch. North Florida weather in January was unpredictable at best. Seventies one week, forties, or even thirties the next. We were on the cold side right now and according to the weather services, it wasn’t likely to get any warmer between now and the green flag at Daytona.
“Your Jeep or mine?”
“Mine. It’s the best one, after all.”
I lifted a brow, giving Hale a dubious look. He was well acquainted with it and ignored it every single time.
Both vehicles had every bell and whistle. They weren’t the newest models, but they were still pretentious as hell.
“You’re only saying that because of the colors.”
“Black bests teal every time.”
“Oh please. You know you’re jealous that yours has no personality.”
“Mine has every bit as much personality as yours.”
“Does not. Mine stands out, turns heads. Yours blends in.”
It was the same banter we’d been tossing back and forth since the Jeeps were gifted to us by our parents as birthday gifts several years ago.
Hale held my door for me and I climbed up into the leather seat, settling into the familiar comfort.
“What did you think of Ashton?” Hale asked, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine.
We’d avoided the topic completely and I think we’d both been grateful for that.
After Ashton left the other day, Hale had gone upstairs without a word, then came back down, told me he’d see me later and left, as well. He hadn’t come back until much, much later.
“What do you mean?”
“He seemed different.”
“Well, we knew that, though.”
“Yeah. I guess. I just…” He steered us out of the drive and headed north on A1A.
The Glitterati base of operations in the US was housed north of St. Augustine and south of Ponte Vedra Beach. It was an unusual location for a race team headquarters when most were located in Indianapolis and Charlotte. There were some scattered throughout the country in Texas, California, and a few closer down in Daytona, too.
Ashton’s father, Leonardo Glitterati inherited the current property from his father. It was Ashton’s grandfather who’d started the building of the compound after one of his cars won its class in the ’67 24-hour race at Daytona. Over the years it was expanded, changed, expanded again.
Very few people outside the racing world knew that the Glitterati family lived and worked in the same place. The garage and offices were roughly the distance of a football field from the house.
The setup was unique and had always fascinated me. It reminded me of the old stock car drivers who built their cars on the same piece of property where they lived.
