So that’s how it’s going to be. No surprise there. That’s how it always is with Nico. Snark is his superpower, especially when he’s dealing with drivers at the bottom of the pack. Like me. It’s like he saves his limited amount of charm for the guys at the top of the standings, leaving the rest of us with the stale crumbs of his split personality.
“Sorry for the delay. I got held up with some VIPs.” The lie trips easily off my tongue. My camera-ready smile, as Gabe calls it, comes automatically. I mentally cross my fingers, hoping I can get through this interview. Which will probably last no more than a few minutes but feel like a lifetime.
“Of course,” Nico drawls, leaving no doubt that he doesn’t buy my excuse for a second. “We’re running a bit behind, so hopefully we can get right down to business.”
I nod, ignoring jab number two at my late arrival, and he gestures to his cameraman and sound engineer to start rolling.
“So, Grady,” he begins. “How do you feel about your result in today’s race?”
How the fuck does he think I feel? I swallow back the obvious retort and concentrate on maintaining my composure.
“I’m disappointed, obviously. To be so close and just miss out on the points is frustrating. But it was my highest finish yet, so I’m moving in the right direction, and I’m confident that I’ll be in the points column soon. And I’m glad Yanni is okay,” I tack on, hoping to put an end to one subject and start another. “Fire is no joke.”
There. That should make Ben happy. And Elodie and the rest of the team at LaRue.
Unfortunately, Nico doesn’t take the bait and continues to press me on my poor performance. “Whose decision was it to box in the final laps?”
There it is. The million-dollar question.
“It was a group effort.” I resist the urge to check my nose and see if it’s growing at that huge, flaming whopper of a lie.
“So if I were to say that a source told me you and Ben had a heated argument over the comms about whether to pit—”
“What source?” I interrupt. I can feel Kip tensing behind me, hear his sharp intake of breath. My body goes rigid, too, my posture ramrod straight and my fingers clenching and unclenching rapidly.
Nico smirks, no doubt gleeful at getting exactly the reaction he was counting on. “I’m not at liberty to reveal that.”
I cross my arms, defiant. “Then I’m not at liberty to answer any more of your questions.”
“Oh, come on, Grady. I’m just doing my job.”
“And I’m doing mine.” This comes from Kip, who taps the screen of his cell phone and shoves it into his pocket before putting a possessive hand on my forearm. “This interview is over.”
“Can you confirm that the pit stop was your race engineer’s call and you argued against it?” Nico persists. “Do you think that decision cost you in the standings?”
“Keep moving,” Kip hisses under his breath as he steers me away.
I feel a strange rush of fondness for him. Maybe this assistant thing is going to work out after all. “Where are we going?”
“To see Elodie. She’ll know how to fix this.”
“Who told them about the comms? Do we have a mole?” The thought makes my insides curdle. LaRue is one big family. Like all families we bicker and fight, but when push comes to shove, we have each other’s backs. It hurts to think one of those family members could have betrayed me—betrayed all of us—like this.
“Not necessarily. You know how hard it is to keep anything quiet on the circuit. Someone could easily have overheard something they weren’t meant to.”
“You seem pretty familiar with Formula One.” I realize I know nothing about this guy aside from his name. And not even his full name. To me, he’s just Kip. Like Beyoncé is just Beyoncé. Or Jay-Z is just Jay-Z.
“I worked for a PR firm that handled accounts for several F1 teams before transitioning to the performance side with Extra Mile,” he says matter-of-factly.
Okay then. There’s definitely more to Kip than a trendy haircut and sharp clothes. Bad on me for making assumptions. “Well, uh, thanks for getting me out of there so fast.”
“Like I said, that’s my job. I’m here to take care of you. And that includes protecting you from hacks like Nico when they go too far.”
It’s official. Kip’s a keeper. I walk with him the rest of the way to Recharge Garage in silence. When we get to Elodie’s office, the door flies open before he can knock and she’s standing there, clipboard in one hand and the doorknob in the other.
“Just who I was looking for.” She ushers us inside and closes the door. “I heard about your interview with Nico.”
My jaw drops. We left the press room barely five minutes ago. And the only postrace interviews that are aired live are the ones with the podium winners. All of the others are taped and played later.
