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“Tenth,” Adam says, and Tanya groans.
“It’s been a shitty day,” she says.
Yeesh. “So the team’s already in a foul mood.” I can’t tell if the dismal race results are going to make it harder or easier for me to give this announcement.
“Pretty much,” Adam says.
“Does anyone know about my father? Any rumors leak? Anyone see him taken away?”
Tanya shakes her head, her shoulder-length brown bob flipping in the wind. How does she avoid frizz in this humidity? “I don’t think so. He was in the back of the garage, and one of the guys in the garage dragged him into the back room with the air conditioner and called for help. The paramedics took him out the side door, which isn’t accessible to the press or public. People probably assumed the ambulance was there for someone who had heatstroke.”
My poor father. I’m about to ask if them if they’d noticed any signs of illness but we’re at the garage. The golf cart stops and we all climb out. Next to the garage is one of the team’s cars, a sleek black and orange open wheeled Formula World car. My father’s passion and purpose. As if on cue, the side door opens.
Jack, one of our two team engineers, fills the doorway with his large frame. He’s tall and blond, his skin tanned and rough, as if he spends all his time outdoors. He looks like a man who’s spent a lifetime surfing, sailing, racing . . . and winning races. His expression is grim but brightens when he spots me.
“Lily!” Just when I think he’s going to extend his hand to me, he folds me into a giant hug.
“Blrb,” I mumble into his armpit. It’s one of the many reasons I hate hugs. I’m short and always end up mashed into someone’s underarm or boob area and am forced to inhale their body odor.
I wriggle out of his grip, feeling my skin crawl. It’s nothing against Jack, he’s a lovely man—I’d had dinner with him and my father when he was first hired to the team a year ago. But I simply hate hugs. They feel weird and fake and uncomfortable to me.
And after races, there’s the sweat factor. All these folks are covered in buckets of perspiration, and now I’m immensely squicked out, right when I need to focus.
“How’s Adrian?” Jack asks, oblivious to the fact that I’m practically itching from the cold, clammy odor that lingers on my skin.
“He’s in surgery now. Before he went in he made me promise to say a few words to the team.”
A burble of voices comes from inside the garage, various accents mingling into one low buzz. Jack gestures to me. “Anything you want to discuss quickly before you go in?”
“Yeah.” I softly shut the door and motion for Tanya, Jack, and Adam to join me in a huddle. The two men are so tall that I must straighten to my full height of five feet two inches tall and crane my neck to make eye contact. Normally I’d wear heels to a meeting so important, but I hadn’t anticipated any of this when I hurriedly threw on my sneakers back at my condo.
Tanya’s gaze lingers on Jack. I’d heard rumors years ago that they were sleeping together, but never asked anyone to confirm because it was none of my business. And at this point, I don’t care about anyone’s past flings. I simply need to break the bad news and we can all hope Papa recovers so I can go back to my stress baking. Moping. Sleeping. God, has it been a month already?
“I’m taking notes,” Tanya chirps, whipping a phone out of a waist pack.
“My father asked me to be in charge of the team for the next few races.”
Men’s egos in this sport can be fragile, so I say this without a hint of emotion. If Adam and Jack are shocked, they don’t show it. Tanya’s thumbs fly across the phone screen and after a flash, she looks up.
“When do you want to send out the news release? How many interviews do you want to do? Or should we call a news conference? We could hand pick a few reporters—”
I hold up my hand as if I’m in total control, when I’m anything but. The idea of speaking to the press sends an unpleasant shiver through me. “News release only. I’m in no shape to talk to the press today, or tonight. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“People are going to want to hear from you,” she says firmly.
“I don’t care. They’ll get a news release. Then we’ll send a second when Papa’s out of surgery and then,maybe, I’ll talk to a few selected journalists.” I stare her down and she finally bobs her head in affirmation.
Whew. Won that battle.
“Adrian’s always wanted you to join the team,” Adam says softly.
“He has his wish, temporarily. But this is the last thing I want to be doing right now.”
“I guess he figures you have the time,” Jack says.
Was that a jab? My firing from the racing game company one month ago was national news. Although harassment of women in tech had long been an issue by the time I was fired, the way I publicly brought it to light was . . . unusual. And, looking back on it, I’d probably been a tiny bit nasty in tweeting my complaints and the photo of a guy who said I’d be a “good lay” during a very public conference. But I’d had enough, and I’d snapped. I’m used to odd looks and pointed verbal barbs, so I merely look Jack squarely in the eye.
“I have nothing but time. Let’s get this announcement over with.”
