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“Yes, we are quite intrigued,” Devin said.
“I don’t want to waste time with pleasantries; I just want to get to the point. I was talking to my people, and it seems that attendance at races has suffered a bit in a few of our major markets. I hate to see countries like Argentina and Mexico back out of the racing schedule. There are ways to make venues more popular, and it always comes down to the way you market things.”
I had no idea where this was going, but now rather than being terrified of Gregory Brown, I was intrigued.
“The other day I met with my chief marketing manager, and we realized we were sitting on a gold mine. Here we have Luna Perez, the daughter of the great Marco Perez, dating Devin Flynn, one of our more entertaining drivers. Why aren’t we using this to its full potential? So we’ve come up with a little something, and we’d like to run it by you both.”
Devin and I shared a puzzled look as Gregory brought in a few of his associates through another entrance. He introduced them to us.
“James Saunders,” one of them said, sitting on the edge of Gregory’s desk. “I’m in charge of promotional material, and we’ve come up with a slick ad that will bring us greater exposure in our floundering markets.”
“What ad would that be?” Devin asked.
“I want you to picture this,” James said, standing up and becoming animated. “You’re at one of the tracks, which one doesn’t matter. Luna is dressed in her pit uniform and is standing in the pit lane with some other individual, and who that is doesn’t matter either. A Russo car zooms by, and the person next to her leans over and says, ‘He’s fast, isn’t he?’ Luna nods in approval and says, ‘Yes he’s fast, the fastest.’ The other person says, ‘Do you think he has a shot at being world champion?’ Luna gives the person a perplexed look and says, ‘Oh, you were talking about his driving.’ What do you think?”
Devin’s mouth fell open. I smiled.
“I like it,” I said, even though it would horrify my entire family.
“I hate it!” Devin said.
“I know it’s not the most flattering advertisement for your manhood, Mr. Flynn, but you must admit it’s a blast. We’d have it all over social media, and we’re sure it would go viral.”
“People might take it literally. I’d be a laughingstock.”
The other man handed Devin a piece of paper. It was a contract complete with all the terms. Devin scanned it over quickly, and his eyes opened wide when he saw how much the federation would pay for the ad. “Where do I sign?” he asked with a smile.
* * *
Within days, the commercial was shot in six different languages. As simple as it seemed, I found it exhausting. Take after take needed to be reshot, and just when we thought we’d nailed one, the director wanted us to try again.
The hot summer sun was beginning to get to me, and I was happy to have the whole thing over with. At first Russo didn’t want to lend their car or driver for the shoot, but Gregory had managed to persuade them—and by persuade, I mean gave them no choice.
A few weeks later, the commercial aired just in time for the race in Belgium. Devin was teased in the press, but he took it in stride. The ad had been beneficial for both Russo and Perez. It also hadn’t hurt our personal social media profiles, and for once, I didn’t hate the attention. We were more popular than ever, but I could tell it didn’t sit well with Devin. He hated being the butt of the joke.
Before Manta, and Rafe’s party, Devin and I took a few days off to spend in Sandrine. I sensed something different about him when we got to his place. He’d been spending less and less time in England, and I couldn’t figure out why. He explained that he wanted to be near team headquarters in Italy, but I didn’t believe it, especially since Leo had proven as good as his word and cut Devin from testing. There was something keeping him from going to Sandrine.
“My mum wants to meet you. So does my grandmother. They’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” Devin said after we’d unpacked. It was late into the evening, and we were lying on the floor in front of the television. Devin loved watching movies, and there was an old Paul Newman movie on. The quiet time away from the racing world was always at a premium, and I loved nothing more than to spend time with Devin with no other distractions. I was even beginning to hate the race weekends for the lack of time I had with Devin. When we did see each other, we’d both be too exhausted to talk or interact. We’d simply fall into bed and into a deep sleep. Then I remembered what Eva had said to me. Were Devin and I falling into that same trap?
“I’d like to meet them too. I’ve wanted to for a while, but didn’t want to be pushy about it.”
He nodded. “I thought we could go see them after Manta.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I turned my attention back toThe Hustler. Devin stroked my hair, brushing it away from my face. I knew something was bothering him. He was normally glued to the screen when we watched movies. His head was propped on his hand, his elbow resting on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said with a small smile.
I was certain something was wrong. “You don’t want me to meet your parents?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that my mum likes to hound me a lot, and I can’t stand it. My dad is great; he always has been. It’s my mum that’s the problem.”
“I know something about mothers with a lot of opinions,” I said, running my fingers up and down his chest.
He chuckled. “She’s always nagging me about settling down. For the longest time I drove her insane because I wouldn’t settle down. Now that I have, she wants to meet you. I just don’t want to put you through it.”
