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I knocked on the door, and his muffled, “Come in,” had me sucking in a deep breath. It didn’t matter. I could find another job, or go back to waitressing or something. Everything was going to be fine.
Stepping into the room, I tried to be confident. “You asked to see me?”
Antony looked up from his computer. “Yes. Come in and grab a seat.” He waved to the couch. “Stop looking so terrified. It’s not bad, I promise.”
All the tension whooshed out of me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d catastrophized in the last five minutes. “Holy crap, you nearly gave me a coronary.”
He laughed and came around to sit on the opposite side of the desk. I found he did that a lot, like he couldn’t stand to be confined between the huge piece of antique furniture and the wall. “Sorry. Now that you’ve said it, I guess it would have seemed a little daunting. I just wanted to check in, discuss a few things. Coffee?” He pointed at an ultra-fancy Keurig machine, but I shook my head.
“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
“I need one. It’s been a long day already.” He turned his back to me, popping a pod into the machine. “It was hard to lure Mickey to VANT. He’d been promised to a bunch of different teams, and it took some heavy negotiating with his management to get him here. But I think he’s the right choice.”
I didn’t know why he was telling me this, but his pause told me he wanted my opinion. “Stephie said he has the fastest lap times of anyone who’s graduated out of the foundation program in the last decade. He’s a solid second seat to Rocco. Plus, he’s an all-American boy. He’ll give the younger fans someone to cheer for.”
Antony spun, an espresso cup looking teeny-tiny in his hands. “That’s what the board thinks too. Some think he is a risk, though; that he’s too good and will be poached by Europe to drive in F3 or perhaps even F2.”
I shrugged. “It’s better to have him make a good starting impression for the team before he leaves, then to not have him at all. He’s going to be able to showcase the car and its speed, before he leaves. If he leaves.” The high-pressure stakes of Formula racing wasn’t for everyone, especially not when you could stay close to home and still have a really great career.
Antony smiled at me. “That’s what I said. But that leaves us in a reasonably precarious position. We have two drivers who are just one lucrative contract away from abandoning IndyCar to move to the European circuits and paydays. We’ve decided we need a third driver, someone who can step in if that happens.”
I frowned at him. “Are you looking for names?”
He grinned, and it lit up his normally serious face. “No, Tally. We are looking for you.”
I blinked. And blinked again. He couldn’t be suggesting what I thought he was suggesting, right?
“What do you mean exactly?” I couldn’t let hope bloom in my chest just yet, so I held it tight, like a balloon that was just waiting for me to drop the string.
He came to sit on the coffee table across from me. “What I’m saying, exactly, is that the board and I would like you, Tally Palmer, to be our reserve driver.”
I still couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ve never even raced in an IndyCar.”
“Hence the reserve part of your title. Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of practice in the upcoming pre-season. What do you say?”
A million things filtered through my brain, like the shuffling of cards. My daughter, the court case, the feeling of being fired from my last job, Rocco, the guys—it all flashed through in brief glimpses before I opened my mouth and said, “I would be absolutely honored.”
Antony clapped his hands together once. “Wonderful. I’ll get the lawyers to draw up the contracts.” His smile dimmed into a more serious expression. “I want you to know that you deserve this. You’ve worked hard for this team, logged more simulation hours than one person should ever have to, all during emotionally trying circumstances. You work hard, and that’s all we can ask for here at VANT.”
We went over some final points, including negotiation for pay—though honestly, I probably would’ve driven for free. Well, maybe not. I had a child to provide for now. Antony wasn’t going to fuck me over, though; the number he’d suggested was more than reasonable for an inexperienced reserve driver.
Finally, I was released from the office to find a worried-looking Hayes standing there. Beside him was Rocco, chatting to Valeria at the front desk, making the girl look a little stunned.
I walked straight into Hayes’s arms. “Is everything okay?” he murmured. “Did…” He trailed off, like the possibility of me being fired was too much to put into words.
“He offered me a contract as a reserve driver,” I sobbed into his chest. I needed to pull myself together. But joy was coursing through my veins, and it was making me want to cry and laugh and run through the halls screaming.
Hayes pushed me away from him. “What?” he breathed.
“They want me as a reserve driver. I could race, Hayes.”
He whooped, gathering me up in his arms and spinning me around. “Yes! I knew you could do this, Tally. I knew you could get back to where you needed to be. You were born to race, baby.” He kissed me hard.
Someone cleared their throat, and I pulled back to see a grinning Valeria, and Rocco with a lopsided smirk. He didn’t seem shocked at all. “You knew?”
I strode over to him, and he grabbed me up in his arms too, squeezing me tightly. “They told me this morning while I met Mickey that they were going to offer it to you. I didn’t know if you’d take it. Didn’t want to, er, jinx it?” He kissed my head, still holding me tightly. “You accepted? You’re happy?”
I squeezed him in return. I wanted to ask if he’d pulled strings for me, but it didn’t sound like it. That might be naive of me, but fuck it. Blissful ignorance was sometimes the best way to go.
