“You mean she was sharking you.”
“Yeah. She was a pool shark, all right. But why me?”
“Maybe because you look like a bonehead?”
“I’m serious.”
Dario shrugged. “Probably because she figured you’d have money, which you did. I don’t remember seeing anyone else in that bar wearing a Hugo Boss suit.”
“You were wearing Armani, so why not you? She knew who I was. She said my name when I met up with her outside the bar.”
“Well, there you have it. She knew you were a Formula 1 driver, so she figured, reasonably enough, you’d be loaded.”
“But if it was just money, then why not you? Your suit was just as expensive, maybe more.”
Dario remained quiet, looking as though he were trying to come up with a reasonable answer. Suddenly he grinned. “You said it yourself. I’m pretty.”
Laughing, Rocco shoved him. “All the more reason. You look sweet, like a pushover.”
“I do not.”
“We’ll ask Celeste. Let her settle the question. Trust me.” Rocco laughed. “She’ll see it my way. No one has ever called mesweetbesides my grandmother.”
“And yet I’m not the one who took in two scraggly, flea-ridden, almost feral strays I located in a dumpster behind a club.”
“That makes me a humanitarian, not sweet.”
“I thought we were talking about a dog and a cat, not humans.”
“You’re right, it’s an insult to them. They’re better than humans.”
Dario sighed. “It’s not going to be that kind of conversation, is it? If it is, I need some coffee or a shot of whiskey. Maybe both.”
Rocco chuckled, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m just saying I don’t know why she would pick me over you.” He paused, grinning. “Unless of course, she was choosing which one she’d like to sleep with.”
Now it was Dario’s turn to grin. “Oh, really? Righteous fail there! If she’d wanted to sleep with you, she would have missed that last shot.”
The driver slowed down, and the car finally stopped. Rocco saw a man walking toward it.
“That’s the team principal,” Dario said. “His name is Casey.”
Rocco watched as the driver got out and removed his helmet.
He blinked before turning to Dario. “Do you see what I see?”
“I. Think. So.”
Rocco’s mouth gaped at the sight of a long, wild, and disheveled mane of raven hair that looked almost blue in the sunlight.
“A woman?” he cried.
“Maybe she’s a #3,” Dario ventured. “A driver from Formula 2.”
“There are no women drivers in Formula 2,” Rocco snarled, his teeth clenched.
“Formula 3, then,” Dario said matter-of-factly.
Rocco glared at him. “And that would somehow be better?”
