“WHAT?” I yelled, leaping to my feat.
“I know, it’s ridiculous,” he continued. “But apparently a producer from that docuseries was at the banquet last night and got some audio from Jason that gave them this impression and they leaked it to the press. No one on our end is talking, but we need to have a strategy meeting STAT. I’m on my way to pick you up now. I have coffee and muffins, so you just need to get dressed. We’ll be meeting with Thomas and Melissa so you’ll want to look professional.”
My heart sank into my toes as I collapsed back onto the mattress. This could not be happening. After all my work making sure we were careful, how could the press have gotten ahold of this story? And what would the guys think? I had just promised Sarah last night that I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Jason’s career and here I was putting him back in the tabloids. “George . . .” I began.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t say anything, ok? We’ll talk when I get there.”
“Ok,” I said. “I’ll be ready.”
“Just remember. You did nothing wrong. There is nothing but friendship between you and our drivers, and people just took playful banter out of context.” There was a knowing note in George’s voice, like he was warning me that our secret was not as safe as I had thought.
“Right,” I said. “Nothing to worry about. Just a misunderstanding.”
“Exactly.”
***
BY THE TIME GEORGEgot to my place I was ready. I had put on my best professional skirt and team polo, my hair slicked back and my lucky earrings in place as if to say “See? Nothing inappropriate here.” I was fully dedicated to the team and I needed everyone to know that. George spent the drive to the offices in an easy patter of unrelated topics. I appreciated the chance to just drink my coffee as I listened.
After putting the car in park he turned to face me. “Ok, Kat, I am only going to say this once and then one day when we’re past all of this I want the full story, got it?”
“Um,” I played with my coffee cup, “got it?”
“Right.” He took a deep breath and turned to look out the front windshield. “We all know the three of you have been hooking up but we’re not going to say anything.”
“What?” I gasped out.
He held up a hand to stop me and continued. “We are not going to say anything. I mean it. Everyone loves you, Jason, and Alejandro. And there’s no denying the effect whatever has been going on has had on the drivers’ performance. But, we’re going to go in there and it needs to have never happened. In your mind you are not involved with anyone. And, for the love of Pete, Kat,” here he turned back to me, “it cannot continue. At least not while you’re all on the same team.” He took my hand. “Got it?”
I felt tears beginning to push against the backs of my eyes but blinked them away quickly and took a fortifying breath. “Got it.”
“Ok, let’s go do what we do and spin this narrative back around.”
***
WE TRIED TO SPIN ITback around, we really did. Thomas, Melissa, George, and I workshopped a statement to the press and then announced that we would not entertain this offensive rumor any further but would be placing our focus on the race in front of us. But the British press loves nothing more than a salacious rumor, and motorsport reporters even more. Despite our best efforts, questions and commentary persisted throughout the week leading up to the race.
I tried to have a conversation with both men, but getting one-on-one time with either of them, let alone both at once, was completely impossible. There were always cameras with us and everyone made sure that we were never left alone.
At least I knew I still had the confidence of the team and I was allowed to keep doing my job, albeit in a more limited capacity. I was still able to be in the paddock to support the drivers, which meant I had a front row seat when we absolutely bungled the British Grand Prix. I don’t care who you are or how much stress you are under, you don’t drive into the back of your teammate. Needless to say, it was our worst race of the season.