Page 38 of Off the Grid

“I thought we covered that’s why you brought me on board. Fresh eyes. New takes. Blunt opinions.”

“Very true.” He meets my eyes and pride brims in the air as he smiles. He leans back and laces his fingers behind his head. “Let’s see. Spencer Riggs. In the past two years has won the pole five times.”

“How many wins?” I ask. Wins are everything in this sport. Wins earn points. And points are vital for money.

But my dad just holds his finger up to quiet me so he can finish. “The guy was born into the sport. Knows every aspect of it like the back of his hand. He has strong engineering knowledge, superior reflexes, and surprising adaptability to different conditions. He’s the first to get to the track every weekend and the last to leave. He does sims after a race to study what he did wrong and how he can do better.”

“You still haven’t answered me,” I say, but haven’t discounted the attributes my father has listed.

“He’s professional on and off the track and knows that team comes first before self.”

I clear my throat and lift an eyebrow. “Dad?”

“He won three races last season, Cam.”

“Last season? Not this one? And . . . that’s it?” I ask. Racers who are promoted to F1 dominate their division. They’re championship winners. They are known to the F1 crowd. Do people even know who this Riggs guy is?

“He’s led many races, but things beyond his control have prevented more podiums.”

“Like?”

He gives an exasperated sigh. Clearly second-guessing bringing me on board right now. “Engine failures. Cautions at the wrong time. Being hit. He’s strong, tenacious—”

“Sounds like bad luck to me.”

“It happens. It’s racing. But the kid has talent, Cam. Raw talent like I haven’t seen in a long, long time. I think this is his time. I think he can be a strong addition to our team.”

“Clearly no one else has seen it either or he’d already have a ride, right?” Should I be worried about the decisions he’s making now? I mean . . . “Why not pick up one of the reserve drivers of one of the other teams? Find a contract one of the other teams would let you buy out. Wouldn’t that be a safer bet?”

He moves steadily to the window so he can look out at the offices beyond his, one hand on his hip. “It would be, yes, but nothing has changed here by taking the safer bet now, has it?” He turns to look at me and I love the mischief in his eyes. “I want to shake things up. I think Riggs might be our guy to do just that.”

There is a very thin line between shaking things up and fucking things up. Let’s hope the former is what we get.

“Riggs?”

“That’s what everyone calls him.”

Great. Who the hell goes by the name Riggs?

“I’m reserving judgment.”

He laughs. “Never one to be a follower.”

“Never,” I say.

“You’re going to like him. I promise.”

“Mmm. A cocky driver just promoted, most likely riding high on the perks that come with that move—money, attitude, and women. Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Sounds like it. You’ve been around this your whole life. You know how it goes. Some of it’s a show—”

“Some of it’s not.” I chuckle.

“Well, you’ll be able to see for yourself because he’s on his way in for everyone to meet him.”

“Can’t wait,” I mutter wryly.

“Make sure you act slightly more enthusiastic when you meet him. We want him to actually think we want him here.”