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I shrugged. “My uncle made me come.”
“Also surprising. And damn dumb of him. You’re going to be exhausted for qualifying. You flying out tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “He has my on the redeye Sunday night.”
He glanced around us to ensure everyone was out of earshot. “Pardon my language, but he’s a fuckin’ dumbass. Daytona’s the most important race of the season.”
I let out a dark chuckle. “Tell me about it.”
I couldn’t say I was upset to be here, since it enabled me to rekindle things with Bristol, but from a business perspective—a driver perspective—itwasstupid. Troy wasn’t even on my team, was a flat-out competitor, and seemed to care more about me than my own uncle.
“He thinks I need to do some charity work and smile big for cameras to clean up my image.”
“That bullshit?” Troy scoffed. “Everyone knows three-quarters of that crap is manufactured. He’d be better off having you in the sim and making sure you’re kicking ass on the track. Once the Daytona green flag drops next Sunday, that’s all people will care about.” He patted my shoulder. “Chin up. A few more days and it’ll all pass.”
I gave him a chin lift with a grimaced smile. Thing was, in a few more days, I’d still be under my uncle’s thumb, and this time, I’d be fighting him about Bristol because unlike six years ago, there was nothing he could do to make me give her up.
Nineteen
Bristol
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered under my breath when Marta walked through the door to the book fair. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d halfway expected her to show up, just to check me out. No way did she not know who I was and what I had with Axel. I was competition at most and an annoyance to the owner of Pendleton Motorsports at least.
“What?” Sadie asked, from where she finished up a donation form beside me. She tucked it into the folder and glanced over at me.
“Axel’s assistant,” I said under my breath. I’d told herall aboutMarta while we’d been setting up today. Sadie glanced over at where Marta pretended to be interested in the displays.
“The ice queen whose dressed like she’s on her way to a 5th Avenue board meeting, rather than a county fundraiser? Hmph,” Sadie scoffed. And that was why we were friends. She got it. “I like the Louboutins, though, even if they’re hella inappropriate.”
I bumped her shoulder. “You’re so bitchy.”
“You love me.”
“I sure do.”
Shaking her head, she went to fill one of the book racks while I took care of the pair of customers who’d approached the table—a young boy and his father. I saw them in the library a lot and knew the second grader, Kory, had lost his mom last year. He was his father Hansen’s world. Hansen would do anything for Kory, including buy him twenty-two must-have books, several of them being young reader books about racing.
I leaned toward Kory. “Make sure you go down to the gym and see the racers there,” I told him. “Tell Mr. Axel that Ms. Bristol sent you.”
I winked at him then smiled at Hansen when I straightened.
“Thanks,” he said, giving me a nod before ushering Kory out as the little boy gushed about needed to go to the gymright now.
“You have quite a way with people,” an icy voice said while I finished making a note of the sale on my log. “That must work out well for you and help you to manipulate them into the exact position you want.”
I glanced around to see who else would hear this conversation. Sadie was refilling a rack with books, but otherwise, we had no customers.
“What do you want, Marta?” I asked, putting an effort into keeping my tone even and not letting her know the agitation that rose inside me at her mere presence. If Axel was fooled by her, I wasn’t. The couple times I’d seen her were all it took to detect she was a viper—a viper who wasn’t getting what she wanted, which made her conniving and dangerous.
She closed in on me and planted her fists on the table between us while she leaned forward, her expensive, overpowering perfume a cloud around her. “I wantyouto stay away from my man. He’s not yours anymore. And you need to back off,” she spat. “He’s going home withmetonight, and we’re heading down to Daytona. Together.”
My heart sped up, my pulse thudding in my temples as bile burned in my throat. With all my might, I fought to remain placid.
“You’re wrong. And you’re delusional,” I said. “Axel isn’t with anyone.” Even me, to tell the truth. A few kisses didn’t make a relationship, but he’d been so adamant that there had been no one but me. And that there would be an us again.
“Am I? Am I really?” Marta almost cackled. She straightened and started digging in her voluminous tote-sized designer purse. She exuded such a demented, desperate air, I tensed, almost expecting her to whip out a gun or some other weapon. Instead, she yanked out an envelope of photos. She pulled them out of the paper sleeve, almost ripping it, then shoved them at me. “If I’m so delusional, what are these? A figment of my imagination?”
I didn’t want to take them from her, but robotically, my hand lifted, and the next I knew, the glossy snapshots were in my hand. Pictures of Marta and Axel together. On the beach. On skis at some resort. At the track. Beside his car. Hugging. Laughing together. His arm around her waist. I flipped through, seeing one of them on vacation with his family in Bermuda. I recognized the place because I’d seen a similar photo the other night at the Pendleton’s house. Axel had told me he’d treated his family to the trip for Christmas last year, when his mom had been declared cancer-free for five years.
