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She looks surprised. What kind of asshole have I been over the last few months if that surprises her?
Kennedy shakes her head. Her usually loose, curly, hair floats around her shoulders as she responds.
“No. Not yet. I was going to eat after I brought this to you.” She tries to hand me the tray again. I tap it then point to her. “Oh, thank you for letting me work today instead of Monday.”
I smirk as I move passed the tall, lean, marathon runner. She’s wearing jeans and one of the JDJ t-shirts we just had designed.
“You know you could’ve just taken the day off and been paid for it. You didn’t have to come over and work today. I think we need to get you an office over at HFH. The two of us work together a lot more than people know we do. Plus, I think you have a handle on my moods. Better than most. Please go enjoy breakfast. I’m going to work out. Thank you.”
Her golden-brown skin catches the sunlight from the windows making her look like the goddess she is. She’s a lifesaver and one of the best assistants I could’ve ever asked for. Cassandra will probably be a lot happier having Kennedy join us at the office. Kennedy already knows all about my temperaments and demands. Plus, Kennedy has seen me at my best and worst.
She’s been more than amazing with all the changes that hit over the last year. Kennedy and Patrick have seen the absolute ugly side of me. Being two who have spent the most time alone in this house with me, next to Graham and Hope, it was unavoidable. I’ve been an absolute bastard. They’ve been paid handsomely as well as sent numerous apology gifts. The team doesn’t know I know she has dreams to be the next Gemma Gordan.
My mom once said she didn’t understand how I still had people willing to spend any time with me considering how awful I have been to them. When Beck, Colton Donavan’s crew chief, recommended GiGi as manager and suggested Graham for my pit crew chief, I didn’t hesitate. I made the phone calls to make it happen. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I haven’t looked back. I’ve busted my ass to make sure all the members of my team were taken care of before I saw a dime.
Seeing me through one of the most difficult losses of my life has been something each of them has said they didn’t mind doing. If the situation were to arise anew, they’d even told me they’d be willing to do it again. Me trying to piece myself back together is the least I can do after all I’ve put everyone through. The guilt is what tends to send me to the bottle. Today, I’m taking it to the gym.
The first thing I do is stretch. As I do, I take in the man looking back at me in the mirror. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, this hair was neatly trimmed. I used to have a beard. It wasn’t too thick. Just enough to say I had facial hair. The guy peering back at me has shoulder-length hair, a trim mustache, a soul patch, and some hair on his chin. My arms are tatted, and I’ve gained some extra padding from not spending time in this specially designed gym. Looking down my body, I see the scarring on my leg that will be a forever reminder of that day. I have other reminders, but I won’t dwell on those.
Clapping my hands together, I nod at my reflection.
“Let’s go to work, Shaw.”
The words echo off the walls of the empty room. I pop in my earbuds, and they instantly connect to my workout playlist. I move through some of the new exercises I was recently shown. As I start the movements I know by rote, I’m immediately lost in thoughts of the past.
Driving has been something I’ve always wanted to do. It shouldn’t have surprised anyone when I chose this for a career. We used to race each other in our toy cars when we were kids. Learning to ride bikes gave us another thing to race. All of us. The whole crew would be on our bikes, tearing through the neighborhood.
As we got older, we progressed from dirt bikes to motor bikes. I still remember the feel of that first test drive. No one could’ve told me that wasn’t going to be what I would do with the rest of my life. It’s what I felt I’d do. I loved racing down and around our makeshift course we’d created in an abandoned lot. It was a feeling none of us could describe. We just loved it.
The progression to motorcycles was easy enough. We pretty much built our first bikes. We then built the first motorcycle I ever rode. That building helped us prepare for all the work we’ve put in over the years on the different motorcycles each of us has owned. The first time I drove a buddy’s 1970 Chevy Cheville, I knew things would never be the same.
The music shifts in my ears and my voice fills them.
“I started drag racing when I was fourteen. My mom is going to kill me for sharing that. Sorry mom.” There’s a pause then laughter can be heard. “It was the most intense feeling. Nothing felt as amazing as it did the first time I won. That was it. I was bit by the bug. I was reminded what I wanted to do with my life.NASCARwas all I could see in my future.”
Slowing the treadmill, I pull out the earbuds. Standing in the doorway are Graham and GiGi.
“Whatever you are working on, I’m not interested in it. I’m watching for entertainment purposes only. I’m not ready to be that person again. If that’s what this is going to be about then you might as well turn back around and head back out the door.”
GiGi turns to look at Graham. Her pink outfit looks like she came to kick back and chill verses work. If that’s the case than I’m all for it. I’d prefer it. Graham is one of the only men I know who could make a cream sweater, navy chinos, and polished leather boots look like office wear.
“We are here for a chill Saturday afternoon hangout session,” Graham tells me.
Even he doesn’t sound like he believes what he’s saying.
“I’m hitting the showers.” As I walk by him, I lean in to tell him. “Not one word of that is believable when you arrive with your work bag.”
He looks down at his hand like he forgot the thing was there. I hear GiGi’s laughter as I continue up the hall towards the stairway to my room.
The only time I’ve ever seen Graham completely dressed down is when he’s in his garage. He’s just as much of a grease head as I am. No one would know that if they looked at him.
“We have two things to discuss. Little things. One won’t even take long.”
I chuckle because that’s probably one of the first lies he’s spoken in years.
“You know he doesn’t believe you,” GiGi tells him.
I hear them following me up the hall.
