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Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Just seems a lot more real now.” I looked at her, so she knew I wasn’t about to run out of there. “What if I fuck him up somehow? What if I say something one day at the breakfast table that he has to talk to a therapist about in fifteen years’ time?”
The ultrasound tech held in a laugh and excused herself, so Tally could get cleaned up. “Jesse, I worry about those same exact things every single night before I go to sleep. The only difference is that I know it won’t be because I don’t love him. It’ll be because I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but we can learn, and Google is free. We’ve got this… if you still want this. I know it’s a lot.” She chewed her lower lip, and I couldn’t help but lean in to kiss her.
“We’ve got this. Let’s go. I need a beer and an ice cream, but not necessarily in that order.”
SEVENTEEN
TALLY
Rocco Passero was an arrogant douchebag. Whoever his PR people were, they deserved a raise, because he one hundred percent believed his own press. He was gruff, recalcitrant and didn’t want anything to do with the promotional side of the job. He just wanted to be behind the steering wheel of the car, and that was it.
Normally, that was something I could understand—even relate to, on a fundamental level. I’d also hated the dog-and-pony show that came with sponsorships and building a team brand when I was in NASCAR. But Rocco Passero was the face of VANT Racing, and we still didn’t have a second driver to pick up the personality slack.
The team was having a press conference today, and I was hiding at the back, listening to the familiar shuffle of journalists talking to each other in hushed tones, the snap of camera shutters. Rocco had rolled in late, hungover as shit. There was still smudged lipstick on his neck. He looked like he’d just rolled out of the clubs and into this press conference.
Hayes was beside me. In fact, the whole team was standing at the back of the room, dressed in our team uniforms—black with the deep purple VANT Racing across the front.
“He smells like a distillery,” one of the mechanics muttered, shaking his head as Rocco stumbled up onto the stage. His smile was lazy and cocksure, and Ari Rome gave him a look that probably would’ve made me wither into nothing more than a husk. But Rocco just smirked. I had to give Ari kudos for not punching him in his smug face.
Antony strolled in, barely casting a look at Rocco or Ari as he sat in the middle of the long table at the front of the room. “Thank you for waiting, ladies and gentleman. I’m very excited to be sitting in front of you today, launching a new name in IndyCar.” Antony launched into a spiel about IndyCar, VANT Racing, the research and technology we were putting into the cars, and the goal of being the premier force in IndyCar within three years.
Ari Rome spoke next, giving a brief overview of his goals as team principal, changing from his former team to one being built from the ground up. Basically, all the boring, predictable questions.
The PR person, Luella, stepped forward. “We’ll take questions now.”
Almost all the hands in front of us rose. There were journalists that I knew from my time on the NASCAR circuit, and I pulled my VANT cap lower over my face.
“Paul Camwood, MotorDrive. I have a question for Mr. Barbieri. You’ve been seen around the Formula One circuit for many years now. Is IndyCar a stepping stone for VANT Racing to reach the bigger leagues of Formula racing?”
Antony gave a lopsided grin. “I don’t think anyone would be surprised to hear that I am a lover of Formula One. I think we can all agree that if you love one side of this sport, you likely love them all, from NASCAR to Formula One. That being said, I wouldn’t consider our place here to be a midway point to anywhere. You’ll see VANT Racing in the Indianapolis 500 for decades to come. Will we perhaps branch out further into different international Formula competitions? Perhaps, like many other teams, we will make that leap. But for now, we are focused on our current plan of dominating the IndyCar competition.”
More hands went up, and Antony pointed to a guy in the front. “Oscar Ruiz, Drive Away Magazine. My question is for Rocco. Does your move from Formula One have anything to do with Lucia Christian, and the rumors that you and she had an affair right under the nose of your teammate, Mattias Christian?”
Anger flashed across Rocco’s face, but he quickly shut it down. He leaned forward lazily in his chair, eyeballing Oscar Ruiz like he was trying to melt him to his chair. “No.” He leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest.
Oscar waited for more, but there was just silence. “Do you have anything else to add in response to those rumors?”
Rocco leaned forward once more. “Not really, no.”
Luella looked like she was about to have a heart attack, and she quickly picked someone else for the next question. The questions mostly flicked back and forth between Ari and Antony, but whenever someone would try and draw Rocco into the conversation, he’d give them nothing. He was a nightmare for the publicists.
I missed the name of the journalist in the back, but he stood up tall, notepad in hand. “So far, you’ve only named Rocco Passero as your driver. Have you approached any other drivers, and did you have reservations about hiring a driver with such a checkered personal history? I mean, from crashing cars to trashing bars, Rocco has been front-page news for the length of his career.”
Rocco leaned forward, clearly angry again, but Antony placed a hand on his chest. “While Rocco might be… boisterous”—the crowd laughed—“he is also the youngest five-time world champion in Formula One history. He’s won more races than many of the greats put together. His record speaks for itself, and VANT Racing is honored that he has come on board for something a little new and exciting. We have no regrets or worries about his performance on the track, which is where it counts.”
Antony’s expression brooked no further questions on Rocco’s suitability to the team. “As for our second and possibly third team drivers, we have a few feelers out, not just from IndyCar drivers, but from other motorsports too. For instance, we have the very talented Tally Palmer, who has come over from NASCAR to help us run sims.”
He pointed to the back of the room, and almost as one, the journalists turned. I almost hid behind Hayes, whose shoulders had gone stiff, but I didn’t. I lifted my chin and eyeballed every single one of those fuckers who’d written about me like I was some grease-covered jezebel after Buck’s death.
Oscar Ruiz laughed. “You have certainly gathered a team that’s no stranger to being in the tabloids, Mr. Barbieri. The Lothario of Europe, and who some refer to as the Delilah of Willtot Racing.”
Hayes was all but vibrating now, and I grabbed the back of his belt before he did something stupid, like punch a journalist at the team’s first press conference. Rocco met my eyes, and his gaze assessed me in a new light. Obviously, he was the last person to pay attention to tabloid bullshit.
Antony gave Oscar Ruiz what could only be described as the stink eye. “I guess that is why I am the billionaire, and you are the reporter, Mr. Ruiz. I see their performance on the track and the benefits of their experience for the team, not the sensationalized fabrications made up to sell cheap magazines.” He cleared his throat. “Now, does anyone have questions that people actually interested in motorsports might like answers to, or are we devolving into some kind of soap opera?”
The questions continued from the more professional pundits, but I could still feel the eyes of some journalists on me. I looked over their heads at the front of the room, trying not to tug at the bottom of my shirt so that my stomach bulge was covered properly. I told myself that it was okay. No one would know. And even if they did, they’d never guess it was Buck’s baby. I wouldn’t be front-page news again. It would be fine.
I kept repeating that to myself as they wrapped up the conference and the journalists filed out. This time, I purposefully hid behind Hayes, though I pretended it was because I was talking to Stephie, a software engineer who was working on the simulator with me.
