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“Understandable, and I’m sorry that happened to you. But your situation with Max is far different.”
“How?”
“Because there’s no real power differential. He’s rich, richer than you, I assume, and you hold no real power over him.”
I laugh. “Oh come on. My father employs him.”
“True, but any team would employ him. He’s a champion. You two have a history. Don’t try to deny it.”
A lump in my throat forms. “I’d rather not fan the flames of that story in the press.”
“You and Max had a real connection all those years ago, didn’t you? I’ve seen how he looks at you, and trust me, I’ve seen him look at a lot of women over the years. We used to work for the same team—coincidentally, the same owner who showed me his dick. I’ve observed Max many, many times, and I’ve never seen him as nervous or as captivated as he is in your presence.”
“Please.” I can’t respond with anything more than that one word and a snort. None of what she’s saying is true. I narrow my eyes and stare at Tanya. “I thought we were talking business here?”
She shrugs, and then points out my window. We’re rolling up to the curb of a building that looks like a hacienda in the middle of a cluster of skyscrapers, a pink stucco two-story building with a red barrel tile roof. “Oh look, we’re here.”
We stay at the curb for a few minutes, not getting out, as we watch Esteban climb out of the vehicle ahead of us and saunter down the carpet to the front door. A half dozen photographers snap his photo, and he grins for each of them. Good lord, he’s like Max: never met a camera he didn’t love. Or that didn’t love him back.
I let out a huff. “You didn’t tell me there would be a red carpet and photographers.”
“It’s also news to me. I guess we’re going to have to strut our stuff. Come on, cowgirl.”
“Oh wait.” I pull her back by the arm. “Can you make sure that no one gives me a hug?”
Her face crinkles. “Why?”
“I’m not a hugger with strangers. Don’t like it.”
“Sure.” She says this like it’s not the strangest request she’s ever received, and I’m sure it’s not.
We exit the car, and a photographer calls out my name. “Pose for us, Ms. Onassis? Wonderful boots.”
I pause, put my hand on a hip, and channel my mom. But I’m not showing teeth so I’m certain I look constipated and not mysterious, like she does. Since no one wants Tanya’s photo, I stick close by her, hoping people will think I’m her assistant.
She says she needs to chat with Esteban, and I’m left alone, so I wander toward the bar, my throat tightening at all the potential interaction with people. Then my gaze lands on a tall woman with a graceful neck, a killer body, and a megawatt smile, holding a bottle of beer.
“Anh,” I cry out.
She sees me and her face lights up. I make a high-pitched sound of excitement as we get closer.
“I want to squeeze you,” she says, holding her arms out. She’s wearing what looks like a white leather jacket with fringe over what is possibly the tightest, most sparkly red tank and shorts ensemble. She’s also wearing a white cowboy hat over her long black hair, and boots.
“You look freaking amazing,” I cry.
“Please, can I hug you?” Anh has known me for seven years and is fully aware of my phobia.
I laugh and shake my head. “I wouldn’t mind if it was only us, but I don’t want other people to think they can embrace me.”
“You are so weird as always! Let’s get you a beer and go outside to the porch where we can talk in private.” She wraps her perfectly manicured hand around my wrist and tugs me to the front of the line for the bar. Armed with her charm—and her showstopping cleavage—Anh secures a drink for me and leads me outside.
While there are groups of people out here, it’s much less crowded, and I begin to relax. We settle onto a lounge sofa that’s partially obscured by a potted shrub.
“I’m so glad you’re here. There’s a rich guy from Russia who keeps offering me money to send my models to his hotel room.” She rolls her eyes and takes a sip.
“Eww. Gross. Some things don’t change in Formula World. How are the drivers treating everyone?”
“You know, things have become less . . . active these past few years. And get this, I’m about to go on the road to hire more promotional male models too. I’ve got my eye on several Italians.” Anh grins wickedly, and I laugh.
