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“Just like that,” I say, nice and snarky. “It was an excellent suggestion, and now I’m off to lunch.”
My legs shake as I leave the building. No one stops me, which is for the best. I’d probably melt into a puddle of nerves and panic.
It’s done.
Sarah: On my way. We got this.
36-Jake
Bert’s forlorn stare at his ice water almost causes me to laugh. “We can order if you’re hungry,” I offer.
“Never order before a lady arrives, Jake. Haven’t I taught you that?” Bert takes a swig and considers my offer. “There’s nothing wrong with a side salad.”
“She’s on her way; it won’t be much longer,” I say, hoping this will reassure him.
“Good. Let’s talk about Joey Fisher while we’re waiting.”
Shit. “Am I getting a fine, after all?” I’d prefer not to pay another. Again.
“No, that’s not it. One of his crew members is out for four races and the other for five.”
“Wow.” I whistle. “That’s rough.”
“It sure is. One of his sponsors is threatening to pull out, too.” Bert eyes me over the brim of his glass. “He won’t find a ride next year.”
“Can we do anything to help him?”
“I’m not a fool, Jake, even if I’m being put out to pasture.” A red flush creeps up his neck. The idea of it is enough to upset him. “You wanted him gone, and you’ll get your wish.”
I stay silent.
“The truth is, I never wanted him,” he says. “He needs a couple more years of seasoning on him.”
Sarah implied her family would have passed on him, too. “Ididn’t know that. Was he Ryan’s call?”
“They met once and got along well.”
“Can I ask why you’re telling me this?”
Bert rubs his nose and says, “It figures you would enjoy the news. Oh, there’s your girl now.”
I twist my neck to see Sarah weaving through tables to where we sit in the back corner. It’s perfect for an off-site business meeting.
Uncertainty grips me. Is it appropriate to kiss her, or should we pretend to be merely business associates?
“Thank you, Jake,” she says as I push her chair back in. “Thank you both for waiting.”
Business professional, it is.
We place our lunch orders, and then the honest discussion starts.
“Well, go on now; tell me why we’re here,” Bert says. His quiet voice is unusual. He either believes the young family seated at a nearby table is a bunch of spies, or it indicates his excitement.
Sarah urges me to start, beaming all the while. Bert notices and leans towards both of us.
Superficially, her smile is eager and full of confidence, except for the tight edges at the corners of her lips. Also, her top teeth aren’t showing.
Something is wrong.
