Page 47 of Red Flag
Nixon Armas
And I wished I could be pleased that I had won. But the way he had seemed certain he was going to attend worried me more than anything. Was it because six weeks into the season, he was desperate for a fix?
I had to keep a closer eye on him.
But calling me media manager? That was a new level of petty.
At qualifying,Lucawas his usual charming self, spinning me around when he was the fourth fastest to lap and asking if he could mention it on his Instagram. I told him with a smile like that, he could do anything.
Just as Nix walked in.
He glared atLuca, jaw tight.
ButLucahad natural charisma. He would easily show how chuffed and proud of himself he was.
Nix was the fastest. Pole position.
Like he’d said, he was going to win. I didn’t doubt it.
But I’d had to deal with a media frenzy all morning. One I didn’t want to bring up before he went for qualifying in case it threw him off.
“Nixon,” I said and he slowly lifted his head to glare at me.
“Yes?”
“I need to speak to you.”
“Speak to me here,” he grumbled, unzipping his leathers before shoving his belongings in his bag.
I glanced atCris, who was talking to Abbe and the mechanics. It wouldn’t be wise for them to overhear.
“You liked a tweet ofVelazco’s,” I muttered, standing closer to him. “And Twitter has gone crazy. I’ve kept it under wraps but you need to unlike it and block him. Immediately.”
His shoulders hunched. “No.”
“Armas,” I warned. “You have to unlike it and block him. He’s a drug dealer who used the sport you love to send drugs across the world. He made a mockery of your only love.”
He snorted. “I don’t want to block him.”
“Sorry, did you not hear me?” I snapped, my voice raising. One of the mechanics glanced over. “You’re such a prick. You are a role model, you are the face ofStormSprint. The face. Kids look up to you, they want to be you. Grown adults want to be you! You’re making a children’s charity for racing! And yet you can’t give up this bizarre friendship with a literal drug dealer? You don’t deserve your fans. Unlike the fucking tweet. Block him before senior management finds out.”
“What do you think will actually happen if I don’t?” he hissed, but his eyes shifted toCris.
“Kids, teens, the CEO ofStormSprintwill all see this as you approving his crimes. That you don’t care what he did if you’re still finding himfunny.”
“Kids don’t have Twitter,” he argued.
“They do!”
“If I do as you ask, what do I get in return?”
The bribery was getting old.
“I’ll tell you what you won’t get,” I snapped quietly. “Your fans’ adoration, nor mine. Not even my respect.”
His jaw clenched as he looked down upon me.
“Unlike the post, Nix,” I demanded, voice strong and unyielding. But it was a beg. Both of us knew it.
