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Finally, we stepped through the open back doors, onto a deck that was humming with people. Vanessa disappeared to get us some drinks, and we made our way further into the crowd. Some faces I recognized from my time in the sport, like Ari Rome, who was surrounded by people like he was holding court. A few other faces I recognized from my time coming up in NASCAR, but honestly, the progression of both sports was vastly different.
One face I hadn’t expected to see was that of the bassist from my favorite masked rock band. I nudged Hayes. “Holy shit, it’s Poet, from The Daymakers.” It wasn’t like he was wearing the mask right now, but they’d recently revealed their identities, because of doxxing or some shit. This was why the world couldn’t have nice things.
It was also how I knew that Poet was Moss Aguilar, son of one of the biggest names in Formula One driving history. He was making conversation with someone I couldn’t see, his arm around a girl I knew was his partner, Charlotte. If their interviews were true, she was the girlfriend of the entire band. Lucky bitch.
Actually, I’d recently discovered that the VANT owners were also known polyamorists. Maybe that was why Vanessa had assumed that me, Hayes and Jesse were all one big love triangle. Boy, they couldn’t be more wrong, but I let myself imagine for a moment, a world where I could have them both without ruining our burgeoning friendship.
Then I snorted. I couldn’t maintain a relationship with one man, let alone two.
“Want to go introduce yourself?” Hayes murmured to me.
Fuck no. But Hayes was already dragging me along, stepping to the outside of their little group. I cast a panicked look over at Jesse, who was leaning back against the railing, looking amused.
“...it would mean a lot to the foundation if you could just come to one session. No pressure, though,” Moss Aguilar was saying to someone in the group.
When I saw who they were talking to, my feet stopped dead, like I was knee-deep in quicksand. They were talking to freaking Rocco Passero. The Rocco Passero was right here, right in front of me, next to one of my favorite music artists of all time.
“Breathe,” a soft voice said to me, and I looked up into the beautiful face of Charlotte. Or Dreamer, as the fans knew her. “If you pass out at their feet, you’ll give them even bigger egos than they already have.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I looked everywhere but at the two men in front of me. The ground needed to open up and drop me into the abysmal pits of mortification forever. I continued to stare at Charlotte. “Do you think I can blame it on the pregnancy brain?”
She laughed, giving me a conspiratorial nod. “I think so, yes.” Her eyes dropped briefly to my stomach, then back up again.
A hand appeared in my peripheral vision. “Hi, I’m Moss. It’s nice to meet you…?”
Sucking in another deep breath, I shook his hand and forced a smile that I hoped wasn’t as awkward as it felt. “Tally Palmer.”
Hayes stuck out his hand too. “Hayes Davis. A mechanical engineer over at VANT Racing. Nice to meet you. And you too, Mr. Passero.”
“I bet it is,” Rocco Passero crooned, like he was talking to a child.
Hmm. I frowned, doing my best dumb blonde look. “Rocco Passero. Your name sounds familiar. Are you in the music industry too?” I fluttered my lashes in slow swoops. “What’s your band’s name?”
Hayes was looking at me like I’d lost my mind now, but I didn’t like the snarky way Rocco had replied to him. My Hayes, who was kindness personified. Nuh-uh.
Charlotte made a noise, but when I looked over at her, she was keeping it together. However, her eyes were sparkling, like she was about to explode with laughter.
Rocco frowned. “I’m not in a band.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Well, keep at it. You never know when you’ll make it.”
That was too much for Charlotte, who choked out a laugh halfway through sipping her champagne, and spat it back into her glass like a small fountain.
Moss looked amused. “Rocco here is in Formula One. Well, formerly in Formula One. I don’t believe he has any musical talent whatsoever.”
“Oh, wow. I used to race karts when I was a kid. My dad was a NASCAR fan,” I said to Moss, and he must have caught on to Charlotte’s amusement, because he decided to play along.
“Really? I run a foundation that gives kids in low socioeconomic areas the opportunity to learn racing skills and achieve sponsorships.”
This time, I didn’t have to feign my interest. “Your father was a racer, right?” I could feel Rocco’s eyes on the side of my face. Oops, might have just given away my hand, but whatever.
Moss nodded, smiling sadly. I felt like a dick, but it was a pain I could relate to. The pain didn’t go away just because you didn’t say their name.
Hayes gave him a sympathetic look. “Arguably one of the best of all time.” He flicked his eyes quickly at Rocco, who definitely fit into that category but didn’t need any further inflating of his ego.
“You run your foundation here in California?” I asked, but Moss shook his head again.
“No, over on the East Coast, but I’m working with VANT to set up a satellite foundation on this side. I was just asking this guy if he wanted to get on board, help out a little.”
