Page 132 of First in Line

“Well, blame it on my genes. I get muscular when I train.”

He quirks an eyebrow up at me. “Are you implying you’re too heavy because you’re Black?”

“I’m saying I’ve always put on muscle easily. It’s not my fault.”

He looks at me, down, then up, trying to think of either an answer or a solution. “Maybe you should stop training your right leg. Keep exercising your braking leg, stop everything for the gas one.”

“No way, man. I’m not walking around with a toothpick leg.”

I realize too late he’s joking and roll my eyes when I notice his small smirk. “You’re a dick.”

“And you’re full of shit, kid. Drop a couple of kilos by next month, or I’ll bring in a nutritionist, and you’ll be eating like a monk. No more home-cooked meals from your wife.”

“Evie is taking the macros thing way too seriously. She weighseverythinglike it’s a science project.”

He shrugs. “Well, something’s not working, and we need to adjust.”

Mark is still going through the debrief when Justine, the person in charge of the team’s PR, pops into the gym. “Sorry to interrupt. Jax, I have a hundred posters that need your signature. They have to be shipped as soon as possible. Then, you’re needed in the studio for the Imperion campaign. They sent a few samples, and marketing wants to do some screen tests before you leave.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

“We’re almost done here,” Mark explains.

After a quick nod, Justine exits the room, and we return to our debrief.

It takes about twenty more minutes, and we go through a couple more sets of upper-trap exercises. Then we stretch, and I’m free to go.

I’m heading toward Justine’s office when one of the simulator’s engineers sees me. “Oh, Jackson! I was coming to get you. We have adjusted the settings, and the simulator is ready for you. Are you all warmed up?”

“Uh, yeah. But Justine needs me first, then marketing. I’ll try to be as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll let the team know.”

When I arrive at her office, Justine is on the phone with someone. Not interrupting her conversation, she points at the coffee table where a marker and a pile of posters await. It’s the one with a photo of my teammate and me. When I come closer, I see he’s already signed his side.

I sit down on the sofa, grab the Sharpie, and get to work. I’ve barely done ten of them when my phone rings. I check and see it’s my mom. I haven’t talked to her in a while, so I take the call and tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear as I keep signing.

“Hey, Mom,” I greet her.

“Hey, sweetie! How are you doing?”

“Good. Busy, but good. What about you and Dad?”

“We’re good! We’ve been having problems with the A/C, so the house is like a boiler. But it’s alright, it’s been windy.”

“I’ll send someone to fix it.”

“You don’t have to! I didn’t tell you for that.”

“It’s not a problem, Mom. I can pay for it.”

“Okay, thank you, sweetie. How is Evie?”

“She’s fine. I haven’t seen her since I got back from Silverstone,” I explain, still signing posters.

“Really?”

“Yeah, they wanted me at the team facility right away. I’m seeing her tonight, though.”