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“Do not pretend dumb.” Anastasia said, pointing her finger at me. “You know what we mean.”
“No,” I replied. “Actually, I have no idea what you mean. I only have to assume it has something to do with Dyson.”
“Yes. Dyson. We warn you already,” Svetlana said. “Stay away from him.”
I couldn’t believe the ridiculousness of this situation. Aside from our short conversation a few days earlier, I’d spoken maybe two dozen words to Dyson the entire time we’ve been in Miami. These chicks were delusional, and I wasn’t in any mood to tolerate their nonsense. Just then, Anastasia opened her mouth, presumably to continue their insults. I raised my hand, stopping her before she could get a word out.
“I’m only going to tell you this one time. There is nothing going on between me and Dyson. I work for the team, and that’s all. The only time he and I talk is when we’re discussing team business.”
They looked at each other and began to bicker in what I guessed was Russian. Not wishing to waste any more of my time with them, I spoke up one last time.
“The two of you have nothing to worry about. Do I make myself clear?”
And just when I thought I’d made my point as succinctly as possible, Svetlana stepped towards me and poked me in the shoulder with her finger.
“This last warning, girl. Next time we catch you near Dyson, you regret this.”
With that, the two women glared at me before turning around and walking in the other direction. What I hadn’t realized was that during the discussion, we’d managed to attract a few curious male onlookers. Not surprising really, when I considered how the girls dressed on race day.
“Idiots.” I muttered, glancing at the girls one last time before spinning in place and continuing onward to join the team.
In the aftermath of dodging my first catfight since I was a teenager, I considered leaving the track before the race even got underway. After all, nothing was happening between me and Dyson, and the last thing I needed to deal with was those crazy Russian bitches.
Reaching down, I looked at the VIP credentials and started to remove them when Marco appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Ava,” he said, smiling at me with a mouth full of gleaming white. “Dyson will be thrilled that you made it out. Are you excited?”
I let go of the badge, and it drifted back towards my midsection. His positive energy was just what I needed. I smiled back at him.
“Yeah, actually,” I replied, feeling my mood lighten. “I’m very excited. Are you ready?”
Marco stood there with both hands on his hips, beaming with confidence. “As ready as we’re going to be.”
I looked past him in the direction of the pits. “Where’s Dyson? I don’t see him anywhere.”
Marco nodded towards the team trailer. “He’s still getting ready. He’ll be out in a few minutes. Come with me.”
I walked behind him as we made our way towards the cars, surrounded by the mechanics and other members of the team as they made final preparations for the race. Darren noticed me standing there and approached, offering me a set of noise canceling headphones.
“Here,” he said, extending them to me. “If you’re going to be down here with us, you’re going to need these.”
I took them, and just as I was about to thank him, I noticed Dyson walking towards us.
“Ava,” Darren said, pointing towards his umbrella-covered elevated perch nearby. “You’re welcome to sit up there with me during the race if you want. It’s a lot less chaotic, and you get the best view in the house.”
I smiled at him. “That sounds great. Thanks, Darren.”
“You bet.”
Just then, he turned and walked in the direction of the cars, slapping hands with Dyson when they passed by each other. Dyson walked up to me. His fire suit gleamed in the bright white of the Miami sun overhead, not yet covered in grime from two hours of racing,
“Whatdya think, right?” Dyson said, spreading his arms wide. “Did I tell you that this was the best place to be, or what?”
Still clutching the headphones in my hand, I nodded at him. “You did. And you’re right, it’s exciting.”
Before Dyson could say another word, Darren yelled in our direction. “Dyson! You ready?”
Dyson nodded at him and gave him a thumbs up before looking at me once more. “How about a kiss for good luck?”
His request caught me completely off guard, and judging by the wry smile on his face he knew it. I stood there dumbfounded with my mouth slightly open, unsure of exactly what I should do. The last thing I wanted was to break some tradition they had, only to have him race badly and then for some strange reason try to blame me for it later. Dyson just stood there, expressionless, waiting for me to fulfill his request.
“Well?” he said at last. “You heard Darren, I gotta go.”
“Okay,” I stammered. “I...”
“Dyson!” Darren yelled out again. “Now!”
Dyson looked at me and winked before yelling back. “One sec, man! I’m about to get lucky!”
I shook my head at him in disbelief.
He winked at me. “I almost gotcha there, didn’t I?”
AVA
Over the next two hours, I remained glued to Darren’s side as the race took place. Dyson was right—there was nothing like being in the pits, watching everything happen in the heat of the moment.
When he wasn’t talking to Dyson over race radio, Darren educated me a bit about some of what goes on behind the scenes. The thing that stood out to me the most was the fine line between winning and losing. Mostly, it came down to team preparation and execution. When fractions of a second meant the difference between first place and tenth, having a team that worked as well as Dyson’s did under pressure meant everything.
As luck would have it, the points leader, Gunter Kass, had engine trouble with only ten laps remaining and had to retire from the race. When it happened, Darren reached in my direction and in a moment of spontaneity, he hugged me, yelling at the top of his lungs, “We’re gonna win! We’re gonna fucking win!”
Not long after, Darren’s prediction came true as Dyson roared across the finish line. Marco finished a close second behind his teammate. Minutes later, we scrambled to the winners circle. Dyson drove in, pumping his fist in celebration.
The entire team, the media and race officials crowded around Dyson’s car. He brought it to a stop and after unbuckling himself from his safety gear, he climbed out and the celebration got underway.
After a round of high-fives with his teammates, Dyson spoke to the media about the victory. I lingered nearby, listening in as the interview unfolded. When it concluded, Dyson raised his arms in celebration once again. A loud roar broke out. Grinning from ear to ear, Dyson held his race helmet in one hand and pumped it in the air over and over again.
I smiled and clapped, caught up in the celebration.
In the midst of it all, Dyson happened to glance in my direction and extended his free hand towards me. Wiggling his fingers, he motioned for me to approach. Without thinking, I walked towards him, fully aware of the dozens of pairs of eyes watching me while I did.
When I’d drawn to within a couple of feet, Dyson snatched me by the wrist and pulled me hard against his torso. Disoriented by the speed of it, I hadn’t even had time to figure out what happened before I felt his lips press against my cheek. No sooner had he done it than another deafening roar rippled through the crowd.
“Fuck yeah!” Dyson yelled, looking out over them. “Fuck yeah!”
Before I could say a word, a sea of arms and hands separated us, lifting Dyson into the air and carrying him away. Not long after, the crowd started to thin. I reached up and touched the spot on my cheek where he’d kissed me moments earlier. I glanced around, unsure if anyone even noticed.
It was possible he’d been swept up in the excitement of winning. Probably that’s exactly what had happened. A few seconds later I dropped my hand away from the side of my face, realizing that it probably meant nothing whatsoever.
The celebration continued.
Even though I was happy for him and the rest of the guys on the team, the only thing I cared about doing next was getting home to see Simon as soon as possible. Every minute between the end of this race and the time when I was expected to be in Los Angeles was precious to me. I walked away, leaving them all to continue the party. Making my way through the throng of people, I finally emerged from it a minute or so later.
Glad to be free of the crowd at last, I stopped to catch a breath. I looked up and saw them both standing there. Anastasia and Svetlana scowled at me, arms crossed and from the looks of it, ready for a fight.
I returned their icy glare with one of my own. Nothing was going to stop me from getting home to see Simon, especially not them. Without hesitating, I walked straight towards them, preparing myself for the first punch, kick or scratch.
They watched me, never blinking, and hardly moving. Every muscle in my body flexed. I had no doubt what was about to happen. Moisture drained from my mouth.
But much to my surprise, by the time I closed to within a couple of feet of them, they stepped aside. Wordless, they allowed me to pass between them. I slowed for just a fraction of a second, glancing at each of them before continuing.
