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“They’re taken with a long lens, or maybe a decent cell camera but zoomed in, and they’re quite fuzzy. I think we should deny everything.”
I swear out loud and type theDrive Dirtyaddress into the website bar. “What. Photos. Are. You. Talking. About,” I growl.
The website pops up, and I gasp.
MAX BECKER TAKES A STEAMY SWIM WITH TEAM OWNER LILY ONASSIS.
There, in full color, is a grainy photo of me and Max, inhaling each other’s faces while swimming in the lake. Our faces are obscured and we look like gray blobs, but it’s also easy to tell it’s Max due to his muscular shoulders and distinct nose. I’m out of focus, but I know it’s me.
But will the world recognize me? That’s the million-dollar question.
“Gah,” I say aloud, then let out a muffled groan.
“So here’s the good news,” Tanya says.
“There’s good news?”
“It’s not a clear photo. You can’t really tell it’s the two of you. I think because your hair is wet, it looks more like two Loch Ness Monsters. Well, if one monster had boobs.”
“Do you think this is funny?” I’m furious now. At Tanya and at myself, for being so weak willed. For needing Max so much that I’d put us—and my father’s team—in this position.
“No, I don’t. But I don’t want you to panic. We’re going to say it’s not the two of you.”
“But it’s easy to piece together. Hours after this photo was taken Max and I were spotted coming out of a hospital together.”
“Well, this is true. I think we need to play up your poison ivy issue. Say that you’re extremely allergic and almost died.”
“That seems extreme. How is that going to help anything? No one’s going to focus on that because there’s actual evidence that Max and I were sucking face in a lake.” I’m shrieking now, and look up to see the driver wince into the rearview mirror.
This day is getting better and better.
“Look, let’s discuss once I get to the track, okay? Come up with a strategy.”
“Good deal. Don’t worry, Lily. This isn’t the worst scandal I’ve ever managed.”
I end the call. Almost immediately I receive another, this time from Papa. Fear stabs me in the heart, and I don’t have the courage to answer it.
I let it go to voice mail and stare out the window all the way to the track, wondering if Max has seen the photo. An idea flashes in my head, and I take out my phone, my thumbs flying across the screen.
Mumsy, please tell Papa that I’ll call him later. I’m superbusy this morning.
She sends me a thumbs-up and, inexplicably, a flip-flop emoji. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I mutter aloud.
As I stare at the screen, another text from Mum pops up. It’s of a beach umbrella, the sun, and a blue wave.Can you guess where we are today?
I let out an exhale. The beach is the perfect place for them. Maybe she’s even distracting him from the headlines about me and Max. One can only hope. Despite all of her flaws and lack of physical attention, she is in my corner.
My car maneuvers through various checkpoints and security booths on our way into the track, then parks near the team’s compound. I thank the driver-slash-bodyguard, a guy who is employed by Max.
When the guy, whose name is Donnie, takes a few steps alongside me on my way inside the team’s makeshift office, I turn and stare up at him as we walk. He’s like a giant fire hydrant with legs, he’s so muscular and large. That’s odd. Why is he sticking close to me?
“I think Max will be in the garage. That’s over to the right. I’m headed to the office, that way, so thanks again.”
“Max told me to walk in with you,” Donnie says.
“He did? Why? I’m only going a few hundred feet into the—” My voice dies when I make eye contact with one reporter a few feet away. He speeds over to me, and as if he’s the first of many swarms of insects, is joined by a group of journalists with cameras, notebooks, and video equipment.
Dammit, this entire area is open to anyone with a pit pass or a press badge.
