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I waited impatiently for him to be released and even called Leonardo, the owner of Russo, to ask for his help. The moment Leo arrived at the airport, all was resolved, and Devin was released.
“Do I look like someone who sells drugs?” Devin griped.
“I think it’s how you carry yourself.”
“Carry myself? And how do I carry myself?”
“Did you have to walk through customs with sunglasses on? Was it too bright for you in the airport?”
“I didn’t even realize I had them on.”
“Like the customs officials said, you looked like someone who was wanted for drug trafficking. They apologized. All should be over and done with.”
Thursday morning, the incident had been reported in a few gossip rags, and Jane Edwards found the whole ordeal amusing. She cornered Devin before the Thursday press conference and tried to badger him into talking about it. Devin brushed her off, but Jane insisted. Angrily, Devin told her to leave him alone, in a video clip that was widely shown all over. The clip made Devin appear insensitive, and he was later forced to apologize to her by Russo.
But there were more pressing issues to deal with that were racing related. So far, every practice session had ended in multiple accidents, leaving team owners unhappy. Each accident was a financial blow to the team, but luckily, so far there had been no injuries. Drivers were grumbling too. The track was still a hazard.
On Friday, I saw very little of Devin. It was always like this on race weekends. We had a few minutes together that evening in our hotel room, just enough time for Devin to shower and make a scheduled Russo meeting. I had no plans for the evening and was unhappy that I’d have to spend it alone. Wow, how things had changed. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d relish an evening with no plans. Just me and a book.
After Devin had left, I wandered down to the hotel lounge and ordered myself a drink. I hoped that eventually someone I knew would walk into the lounge. As I was finishing my glass of wine, I saw Erich and Blake take a table in the far corner. I ordered another wine and joined them. Might as well continue to be cordial, I thought, and congratulated myself on putting all the drama behind me. Both were surprised to see me and had guilty looks on their faces. I suspected they were talking about Devin. Or maybe even me.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I said. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all,” Blake said.
“Actually, I should be going,” Erich said, rising from his seat. “I need my sleep tonight. I’ll see you later, Luna.”
We watched him go, and I turned my attention back to Blake.
“He seemed in a hurry,” I said, taking his vacated seat.
“He’s late for a Russo meeting.”
“The one Devin’s at?”
“I assume so.”
“That meeting started twenty-five minutes ago. It’s not like Erich to be late.”
“Who knows,” Blake said, shrugging. “I heard about Flynn’s little run-in with the law.”
“It was just a misunderstanding.”
Blake leaned over and rested his elbows on the table. “It’s hard to keep a secret in this sport. Wherever you go, and whatever you do, someone is watching. For example, I heard about Devin’s spectacle on the streets of Milan a few weeks back. I hear it was drugs.”
I suddenly felt a chill come over me. I wrapped my arms around myself and studied Blake’s face carefully. “Is that why he was detained?”
“I don’t know that for sure. It could have been a coincidence.”
“What more do you know?” I said, afraid that he might tell me.
“Lots of what I know isn’t fact, it’s just rumors, and I don’t like to spread rumors.”
“What have you heard about me?”
“Nothing that you haven’t told me, and you have my word that I haven’t passed it on.”
“What you’ve heard, is it going to hurt me?”
