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“Pff,” I exhale and scratch my head, “there were a lot of women, mate, I couldn’t tell you.” The British journalist’s jaw drops and he tries to stifle a laugh but out of the corner of my eye, I see Mallory turn and dart out of the media pen, her chestnut hair floating out behind her.
I could tell him I stumbled to a hotel room alone, as usual. That I haven’t seen Kate in over a year and I wouldn’t fuck her with Digby’s dick, much less let her near mine ever again. But that wouldn’t hurt her. That wouldn’t make her feel even an ounce of how she’s made me feel. Plus, she’s full of shit.
She’ll give up the act eventually. Unfortunately for her, hitching her wagon to Digby isn’t going to be the saving grace she thinks it is. He’ll ditch her as soon as he gets bored with her, just like he did with Kate. And all the others.
Not my problem.
From here out, my head’s down. I’ll do my contract for the rest of the season. There should be four open driver seats next season and Jack has scheduled meetings with two of those teams already to discuss the move. I don’t care if they offer ten pence and a free beer every Sunday as a compensation package, I’m out.
I’ll race again, legitimately, for any other team and that’ll be the end of this bloody nightmare. I won’t have to lie to Mum and Pop again, be embarrassed in front of my fans. I’ll redeem myself on track like I always have.
As for her, she can fulfill her agenda, get her experience and references, spite her parents and build her brand with Cooper, then fuck off back to America.
???
“Sorry, your name is Candy?”
“Yes, but with an i.”
“Candy with an I…”
“Right. C-A-N-D-I.”
It’s Sunday post-race and I’m leaning on the sidepod of my car in the garage bay. I blew the race and couldn’t care less. Jack is rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed and shaking his head. Matty is watching us like he’s witnessing a car crash.
Across the garage bay, on the devil’s side, Mallory is pretending to swipe through yet another new phone after Digby berated his assistant, but I notice her glancing our way when she thinks I can’t see her.
“This is the new nanny. Candi. With an I,” Jack sighs.
“Nanny?” The tiny barbie thing in front of me tee-he’s, “I’m a PR professional! I just graduated!”
“From high school?” I chuckle.
“From college, silly,” she slaps my arm and twists her shoulders. “I’m perfectly… legal,” she winks.
My shoulders heave with laughter and I slap Jack on the back. “Bloody perfect!”
Candi with an I is about 125 centimeters tall with a chest circumference to match. Her hair is down to her ass and bleached bone white, she has gigantic hot pink lips and fake eyelashes. Her voice could shatter crystal. She won’t stop touching me.
I absolutely loathe her.
“Can I get a selfie?” She smashes herself into me without waiting for my answer, holding her pink bedazzled iPhone up in front of us. Looking straight ahead for the camera, I can see steam coming out of Mallory’s ears. She glares at me and takes a step toward Digby and… runs her hand up his arm to his shoulder.
Oh, that’s how it’s going to be.
I school the tick in my jaw and the lump in my throat. I silence the spike of adrenaline that just surged into my bloodstream.
“Did your mum name you candy because you’re so sweet?” I ask and watch her making duck lips in the phone screen. The words coming out of my mouth make me sick but I force them. Or, the nausea could be from the copious perfume wafting off Candi with an I. She does not smell like jasmine.
Stop it. She chose him over you. She’s choosing him right now, over there, smiling up at him.
Duck Lips giggles, “You’re so funny! My mom is your biggest fan, I can’t wait to show her this!” She wiggles into me.
“Your mum…” I mutter as she springs up and turns to her next victim. What the hell parallel universe am I in?
“Jackey, you’re next!” She tries to back into Jack to get a selfie with him, too.
“My name is Jack. And I’m gay. Extremely gay,” he puts a hand up to stop her and makes a heaving motion with his shoulders feigning being sick.
