Page 17 of Not So Fast
Freya shrugged. “Sure.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Xander had to say his piece. “Please don’t let Mum hear you talk like that. And you shouldn’t be reading that stuff. You’re young. Impressionable.”
Freya clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “I’m a teenager. My whole bloody life plays out on social media. And you’re my brother. I love you. What else am I supposed to do?”
“Ignore it? I do.”Or at least I try. Most of the time, it’s impossible. It’s everywhere.
“But how? How do you do it?” she pleaded. “People are saying you shouldn’t have your seat. That Mega should replace you by the summer break.”
Those words were flaming daggers to his heart, made all the worse because his beloved sister was speaking them. This was merely confirmation of the things Emilio had said to him in Miami. How Xander despised social media. The most random person could say one thing and by the time the rest of the world had listened, they had managed to will it into existence. It was bloody unfair, and a game he refused to play.
“I can’t do anything other than drive the car.”
“That American woman is a bit of a bitch. Mia Neal? I can’t believe they let her into the paddock in Miami.”
Xander swallowed hard. “You listen to her show?”
“Yeah. Of course. All the F1 fangirls do.” Freya bunched up her nose. “I mean, she says some funny stuff, too. And she’s quite smart. I just don’t like it when she’s giving you the business.”
“Well, hopefully, Monza will be better for me and it won’t matter.”
Xander wanted that so badly he could taste it. He wasn’t hoping for the world—simply a weekend where he was in his previous form. No more mistakes. Just a bit of driving perfection. He’d done it before, so why not now?
“I hope so.”
“Me, too, Freya. Me, too.” He tugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Now, let’s go set the table or we’ll never hear the end of it from Dad.”
Over roast beef, potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, a lively conversation bloomed—full of laughter and inside jokes and completely devoid of Formula One. Xander couldn’t have been more grateful for anything, especially when he caught the seemingly benign moment when his mum looked at his dad and her face lit up just like it always did when all three kids were home and the house was filled with love.
Around eight, belly full, Xander clunked along in the Jeep back to his house. He was too wide-awake to consider sleep, so he poured himself some Irish whiskey, lit a fire in the fireplace, grabbed the sci-fi novel he’d been reading and plopped down on one corner of the sprawling tufted leather sofa in his living room. A few pages and several sips in, he caught sight of his phone sitting on the end table. Only one thing, or more specifically oneperson, popped into his head—Mia Neal.
He sighed, set aside his book and pulled up the podcast app, then typed inNot So Fast. It came right up. He tapped his fingers on the side of his phone for a moment, wondering if he should open this tin of worms, then begrudgingly subscribed. Freya’s comment about how Mia was mean about him but also smart and funny had him legitimately curious. And of course, he couldn’t forget that Mia had floored him by divulging he was her favorite driver.
The latest episode posted was from that day, titled “Mia Gone Wild in Miami (Not Really).” He found himself smiling at his phone. Grinning. Like an idiot. What was wrong with him? Why was he so easily entertained by the woman who’d made his life miserable? Perhaps he truly was a glutton for punishment. He grumbled, shook his head, then hit Play, sat back and let every criticism Mia Neal wanted to wield roll right over him.
Four
What makes you feel powerful and in control?
Honestly, not much, but flying in first class to Italy was next-level. I feel lucky and a bit like I’m living in a fairy tale. If I was going to write a fairy tale, I would make myself the main character and of course I would be powerful and in control, but I would also be kind and generous. A benevolent badass queen. Everyone in the kingdom would think I am awesome. Side note: this hotel is amazing. I’ve seen almost every driver in the lobby.
Except for one driver—there’d been no sign of Mr. Xander Bishop. And Mia could admit that she was feeling disappointed, but she had high hopes for media day.
She not only had a pass, but one that allowed her to be unaccompanied. It made her feel like anything was possible. Maybe she’d chat up a driver afterward? Stroll through the paddock and ask a mechanic about the ins and outs of theirjob? Grab one of the strategists and learn more about that? Fill up on pastries in Mega Racing’s hospitality suite? The sky was the limit as near as she could tell. There was no telling what kind of trouble she could get into, but she couldn’t wait to find out.
The walk to the track took almost an hour, much of it along storybook, tree-lined streets, and Mia spent her time soaking up the charming, magical atmosphere. She found her way through the swipe gate and managed to locate the media center after asking one of the security people. Inside was a buzzing beehive of activity with members of the media chatting and rushing around. Mia had a total fan moment when she spotted Claudia Simon, one of the foremost Formula One TV journalists, who worked for Cloud Sports in the UK. Mia made a promise to herself that she would find a way to talk to Claudia before the race weekend was over.
For now, it was time to find a seat and listen in on the press conference. This was another pinch-me moment, something she’d watched on TV countless times. It was so surreal to be sitting there, and it did make her feel special, but it was also a stark reminder that she was a podcaster and not a member of the “real” media since she didn’t have a pass that permitted her to ask questions. She was certain that if her mother were present, she would point out this fact. Repeatedly.
Mia wasn’t sure exactly which drivers would be on hand, but was excited when they began to file inside—Florian, Preston, Emilio and last came Xander. Mia’s heart practically flipped in the center of her chest as he strode past in a Mega Racing polo and jeans with his unruly hair poking out of a baseball hat. She wanted to yell out his name, but of courseshe didn’t. Bringing up the rear were the PR handlers for each driver, including Isabel. She didn’t look at Mia, either.
He sat with the other drivers and the session started. Unfortunately, that meant Xander was grilled from the word go.
How would you rate your performance in Miami?
“Less than optimal,” Xander said, looking straight ahead, his expression cold and composed.
Mia hated that he was giving such a short answer. She wanted him to fight back. Show some backbone. It did not bode well for his performance this weekend if he was going to be timid.
