Page 14 of Sparks Fly
“Royce,” I snap, and I feel my own frustration bubbling.
He holds his hand up as an apology.
“Look,” Pascal starts again, “we’re aware that the car isn’t where it was last season but we’re working on it. There are lots of factors that go with this, too.” He looks at me, then back to our two drivers. Glenn is studying his screen, and the engineers are jotting down notes.
“I have every confidence that in Spa the car will be somewhat back to where it should be.”
Royce doesn’t look convinced as he stares at the computer whilst Pascal begins to point out where he thinks our weaknesses are.
I push to my feet, slipping my earphones off and giving Glenn a little nod. I slip out the door before Royce can even question me.
My phone buzzes and I see Tony, one of our sponsors, calling. I internally groan before lifting it to my ear.
“Yeah.” I sound exasperated.
“We need to pen a meeting for next year’s options.”
“I know, I’ll get Colby to send my available dates.” I try and keep the conversation short.
“What happened last weekend?”
“We’re looking into it,” I mutter as I walk back into my office.
“The car looked good, are you not feeling that?”
“I’m not sure what I am feeling.”
I switch off whilst he continues talking and I sit back at my desk and wake my computer up.
“Sorry, Tony, I’ve got to shoot,” I mumble then cut the phone off whilst he was still mid conversation.
Nothing had come up.
I was feeling annoyed and to be honest, I needed to get out for a bit.
Setting up my out of office, which, if I’m honest, never really works, I shut my computer down, grab my bag and phone, and slip out, locking the door behind me.
Walking past Colby’s desk, I wave him off and make my way out of the building. The warmth of the sun beats down on my face.
My phone beeps with an email and I roll my eyes, annoyance pricking at my skin but that soon fizzles out when I see my plane ticket.
“Get me the fuck out of here,” I grumble as I click the button for my Porsche 718 Cayman GT4 RS, in team colours, of course. Grey, black spoiler, and side panels with fluorescent yellow wheel trims.
Tossing my bag on the front seat, I start the engine and smile at the way it roars beneath me. Pushing it into drive, I kick it down the long and winding driveway of where the home of Saint Onyx racing sits behind me and forget it exists for just a moment.
Boarding the plane,I greet the air hostess, and I am definitely not feeling as tense as yesterday. Thalia came over and relieved that stress. I never realised how much I needed it.
I make my way over to my seat, number seven and the air hostess passes me a glass of cold champagne just as I strap myself in. I’m not one of these people that will unbuckle myself as soon as the plane is in the air. I thank her and take a sip, my shoulders relaxing slightly as the pilot comes on and tells us how long our flight time is and what to expect from the weather when we land.
I place my glass on my table and reach for my laptop and settle down for the flight. Whilst we’re thirty thousand feet in the air, I hadn’t realised just how much I needed this break.
Stepping off the plane, the warm air hits me and I know I am home. It feels like a hot minute since I have been back here, but finally, my feet are on the ground, and I already don’t want to go back.
The driver meets me on the tarmac, and I slip into the back of the car. The evening is setting in and as much as I want to go straight to my apartment, I need to eat something. I ask the driver to take me to La Môme. Scrolling through my phone, I reply to a couple of pressing emails and then go through the notes from briefing. I’m annoyed to read that Royce left a little after I did. So disrespectful. Shaking my head, I clock the time before clicking on his name.
He answers on the sixth ring.
“Dad.”
