I know I have a face like thunder because the corridor of fans I had to pass through on my way here all told me to cheer up.
I’m grateful Jackson doesn’t ask what’s up straight away, because I’d probably explode. Instead, we head to the locker room, discard our bags and jackets, and get to work warming up.
He side-eyes me as we use adjacent cross-trainers, like he’s trying to figure out how to ask whether anything’s wrong. It’s making me slightly paranoid, because it feels like he sees everything. I don’t know what Anders has told him about the bollocking he gave us earlier on in the season, or whether Anders knows that Harper and I took his suggestion of faking a friendship in public literally. I also don’t know what influence Jackson has over decision-making within the team, which makes this situation a bit of a political tightrope.
Maybe I shouldn’t have told Jackson about the kiss. I didn’t name Harper, but I have a feeling he suspects it was him. It was tearing me apart; really messing with my head in a way that was translating onto my track stats. And I can’t afford that. I just couldn’t keep it in any longer, the intrusive thoughts and the overthinking, and one day I just blurted it out while we were grabbing a coffee. Plus, I’ve known Jackson for about a decade, even if this is the first season he’s joined us on the tour as part of the Hendersohm management team. He’s just a year younger than me, and if the circumstances were different, I think we’d probably have become close friends a long time ago.
His dad is my boss, which didn’t help at the beginning, and Jackson was always a little standoffish. It’s hard to write objectively and critically about your friends, and since he’s built his career and reputation as a Championship race reporter I know that presents a challenge. When he was starting out, there were the usual accusations of nepotism because his dad is the principal of one of the most successful and competitive teams. In some of his early long-form pieces – articles for motor racing magazines, and one TV documentary I remember in particular – he went too far the other way, in my opinion, and made some unfairly scathing pronouncements about Hendersohm drivers, including me, and about his dad and the latest engineering choices. Looking back, I think he was just trying to establish himself, and now, more than a decade on, he deserves his reputation as an insightful critic, a good interviewer, and one of the top motor racing pundits around.
His sabbatical as part of the Hendersohm management team comes at the request of his dad. I know Anders is proud of his son’s career, but I think he also wants to encourage Jackson to swap sides and use his knowledge and experience to become a team manager and eventually a principal, like him. I’m not sure it’s what Jackson wants, but I suppose that’s the point of trying it out.
Sitting opposite each other on the floor while we stretch, we discuss what weights we’re going to lift today. I’m still stewing over the Harper situation and obviously not doing a good job of hiding it.
‘You doing okay?’ he asks as I scrub the rag across my sweaty forehead with a little more vigour than is perhaps necessary.
We’re alternating Russian twists and kettle-bell swings and I’m channelling my frustration into faster reps, leaving me panting more than usual. ‘Mmm. One more set.’
‘How’re things going?’
Jackson’s skirting around the topic of Harper, like he doesn’t want to pry or insinuate what he thinks he knows. Which is probably for the best.
‘Urgh,’ I groan, falling back completely on the mat so I don’t have to look at him whilst I moan. ‘I’ve never lived with anyone like Harper James. It’s been five days and I already can’t take it. I miss Elijah.Henever left toast crumbs and butter knives lying around like he expects me to be his personal maid.’
‘So he’s a bit messy?’
I glare at Jackson. Abitmessy?
‘And the rest. He’s an inconsiderate, selfish asshole. He comes in at all hours of the night, crashing around the kitchen and making so much noise. He drowns the bathroom every time he showers because he can’t seem to pull the door completely shut. He also wears no clothes, like, all the time.’
‘Oh, no. Imagine having to look at a half-naked, sexy athlete all day. It must be so hard for you.’
If only Jackson knew how hard. I saw Harper towel-drying himself the other day. Does he not know how to close a door?
Jackson knows I’m bi, and a careless use of pronouns when I was telling him about the kiss means he knows it’s a guy who’s currently messing with my head.
‘I’d rather he put on a shirt and did the washing-up from time to time.’
‘No you wouldn’t.’
Savage. I fake a gag, but Jackson doesn’t let it go. I guess years of interviewing has given him a pretty good radar for bullshit.
‘You’re the only person I know who doesn’t want a front-row seat to the Harper James show,’ he says.
‘I came to the gym to get away from him. Can we talk about something else?’ I’m sick of hearing his name.
‘Okay,’ Jackson obliges. ‘You looking forward to going home for a couple weeks after this one? Silverstone’s always such a good track for you.’
‘You can say that again.’ I’ve never scored below P3 on that track, even in my rookie year. Home turf, and all that. But, most of all, I can’t wait to see Elise and the kids, and Mum too, of course. That’s what is most important this year about going back to the UK. ‘Of course, I love Silverstone. A P1 in front of a home crowd would be sweet. Plus, seeing the family is needed right now, feels like I’ve been away too long.’
‘Yeah, family’s important,’ Jackson continues. ‘You’ll never hear him say it, but I don’t think Dad ever got over losing Mum. He’s excited to have me on tour for a few weeks.’
Five years ago, in the middle of the season, Anders’s wife, Brita, suddenly passed away and it hit him hard. He’d actually taken a day off during the season because of it, something he’d never done before. For months he walked around like a dark cloud, barking orders and storming out of meetings. It got to the point where people were afraid to approach him, but eventually the senior trainer, a long-time friend and colleague of Anders’s, took him aside and had a word. I don’t know if he went to therapy or not, but by the time the next season rolled around he was mostly back to his normal self – at least in public.
‘That must be tough,’ I say. ‘And what about you?’
‘Oh, you know. I felt really lost for a while, but…’ Jackson visibly swallows and he blinks a few times. ‘I miss her all the time, obviously, but it’s different for Dad. He’s not very good on his own.’
‘He’s definitely happy to have you here,’ I say. ‘He seems a little more relaxed.’
