To be fired, like my father was, for something so stupid … I don’t think I’d ever get over that.
‘Of course. I apologise for the unprofessionalism. I know I’m not great with change, and I don’t think I’ve handled the upheaval very well. But that doesn’t justify how I’ve been acting…’
Even to my ears, the words seem desperate, and maybe they are. Maybe I’m a thirty-three-year-old facing the end of his career who’s desperate not to become the person he despises most in the world, but I will only be going out on my own terms. I’ve worked my entire life to shrug off the comparisons between us, and I will not fall at the final hurdle.
Harper’s head spins round so quickly to face me, it almost givesmewhiplash. He’s eyeing me like he’s not quite sure what to make of this version of Kian Walker. I’m just hoping he’s not about to argue with me about this. After all, it’s mostly his fault.
‘I think maybe you two just need to get to know each other a bit more. You don’t have to love each other – hell, you’re still each other’s competition – but you need to get yourselves under control. This is a spectator sport, and everyone’s watching. How you talk about each other and to each other in public matters. It’s also a team sport, so act like a bloody team. Is that understood?’
I nod, rapidly, but Harper is still dead quiet.
‘Sure,’ he finally agrees, and again I’m reminded of a petulant child. In that, I’ll need to be the grown-up here.
I’m trying to think of an activity that we can do together, something we have in common that we can use to settle this situation between us.
‘The gym maybe?’ I suggest.
‘Huh?’ Harper replies, clearly not following my chain of thought.
‘We could start working out together and post some clips on social media. It’ll be good for our driving and we can try to get to know each other a little bit more.’ Harper’s still acting like a sulky teenager being reprimanded by a teacher he clearly doesn’t respect. All I can do is take the high ground. He might not grasp what’s at stake, but I do. Maybe I just have more to lose. ‘That’s my bad, man. I should have welcomed you properly to this team.’
Maybe I have been unwelcoming, bordering on unfriendly. He’s not to know that comparing me to father dearest would put my back up, but I’m also not above being the bigger man. He just always seems to know exactly what to say and do to push my buttons. Just when I think I’ve got my shit together, he makes a comment that leaves me floundering in the deep end.
Anders smiles at both of us, and my suggestion is clearly a hit, yet Harper is still taking his sweet time agreeing. For a second, I almost think he won’t, that he’d rather throw away the biggest opportunity he’s ever had for the sake of his own pride.
‘Sure,’ is all he offers to this conversation again. It’ll have to do.
‘Brilliant. I knew you two wouldn’t let me down. The sponsors are incredibly excited for this pairing and what you’ll accomplish this season. Let’s not waste this momentum.’
Anders has always cared so deeply about the team, and I know better than anyone that the team is bigger than any individual driver. Motor racing is a multi-billion-dollar industry, and managing a team means being ruthless when it comes to making money. Anders may love Hendersohm, but he’s not in this for shits and giggles. If he can’t get his drivers under control, the owners might just decide to firehim. If sponsors are turned off by our bickering and start looking elsewhere … well, suffice it to say that this cannot be a loss-making venture. So, I understand his need to keep everyone happy.
Harper disappears back into the celebration, whilst I slink off back to the hotel. I don’t have the heart to join in with everyone else. All I need right now is to catch up with the family and sleep. When did winning start to feel so exhausting?
I turn my phone back on and I’m barraged with texts, mainly from friends and family back home. But there are also several from Elijah congratulating me on my first win of the season.
Sadly, Harper’s antics on the podium have gone viral. No wonder Anders was so pissed off. Some of the reporters are even claiming that the supposed rift between Harper and me is my fault. Apparently, despite today’s performance, my best days are behind me and I’m standing in the way of a new generation of superstar drivers. The same people who called me the golden boy of Championship racingfor more years than I can remember are as good as calling me grandad. Where do they get this bullshit from? I mean, did they not watch me today?
It’s almost enough to make me truly consider retiring this season. Giving the press what they want.
But I’m not a quitter. And I won’t let one arrogant rookie throw me off my game.
ChapterSix
Harper
I’m standing outside the gym, the door cracked open enough that I can see Kian in the mirror. His shoulders are hunched as he waits at the bicep curl machine. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead that says he’s started without me, but the way he keeps glancing at the clock tells me he thinks I still might turn up.
I know this makes me sound like a whiny kid, but it’s not my fault he decided to be an asshole first. I can’t believe I ever looked up to this guy, when all he seems to do is look down his nose at me. What’s wrong with wanting to have a good time? To work hard but play equally as hard? Not my fault he’s boring as fuck and acts like a middle-aged woman. Who wants to do yoga and be in bed by nine when we are literally in our prime?
Still. I should go in. I almost want to, even if it’s just to ogle Kian in the little shorts he’s wearing.
Yet something stops me.
If I’d continued with the therapy I’d been forced to attend when I came out of the foster system at eighteen, I’d probably have been told it was because I don’t deal well with anxiety and handing over control to other people. It would make a lot of sense if you’d ever met my parents. Not that I need to contemplate my emotional trauma right now in the hotel hallway.
I’m frozen in place, lingering as Kian paces over to the wall, setting up a skipping rope and a bunch of weighted balls at his feet. He then whips a tennis ball out of his shorts pocket and bounces it quickly off the wall, getting in some reaction rate reps before his strength training.
I wish I didn’t admire his utter commitment to the sport. It would be easier to hate him that way. He does this every single day except race days. It’s everything to him. He’s clearly given motor sport his whole life, which also means it has the power to tear him apart.
