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“Hey,” I say back. “Ready to start?”
“There’s nothing more I’d love to do right now.”
“Sarcasm?” I laugh as a smile graces her face. “Let’s get this configured.”
“Let’s,” she agrees, walking to the sim machine and getting into the seat. I immediately smell her floral shampoo or maybe body wash as she passes by me. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it in my office. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I set up the computer to match what we have for the setup and specs as of right now. Whatever you do, write down the changes. Do not save them into the system.”
Haisley turns and gives me a confused look. “Why not?”
“Please trust me. I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but I need you to trust me. I have a feeling about something, and I’m not going to publish the correct specs until right before the race,” I explain.
“You think Bud has something up his sleeve?”
I shrug. “He’s too involved now in ways he didn’t care about the last two weeks, so I don’t know honestly.”
“Well, I’d hope he’s not that type of person. He’s an asshole, but would he really do something to affect the car?” she asks, her face draining of color.
“I hope not, and I could be overreacting, but something doesn’t sit right with me since that asshole Drake stepped foot into the building either.” I pause and shake my head. “Anyway, let’s get back to the car. Just write them down please...or take a photo to show me after you’re done.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a little while,” she responds as I stand up and leave her to her work.
I pull out my phone and send a message to Mac.
Me:I want you to keep an eye on the sim room, please.
Mac:Why?
Me:Just trust me please.
Mac:Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.
Me:Thanks.
I place my phone into my pocket and run into captain dickhead himself. “Excuse you,” he barks.
“Excuse you,” I repeat.
“What’s your problem?” he questions as I stand tall. I am about six inches taller than he is.
“You. You are my problem. I’m not sure why yet, but I just don’t like you,” I answer honestly and continue to stare at him.
“I don’t like you very much either, and you’d better learn your place,” he counters.
I chuckle. “I need to learn my place? Please. You’re nothing but a little rich boy who somehow got a job with a race team. What do you know about cars?”
“I know enough,” he responds.
“Yeah, sure. I investigated you,” I admit.
“Are you that threatened?” he replies with cockiness.
I chuckle again. “Please spare me the insult. I don’t trust you, and I haven’t since you started.”
I step around him before he has a chance to respond again. Truth is, I did investigate him, especially after I saw the fear in Haisley’s face the day he walked into the conference room. Then considering their exchange earlier in the week, you bet your ass I had my guys look into him. And honestly, there’s not much out there about him prior to his arrival here. He didn’t work with any race teams as a crew chief prior, not in any racing circuit.
I have a gut feeling about him, and I hope I’m wrong, but I rarely am.
