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After they exchange pleasantries, I fix Sander’s coffee and toss in a turkey sandwich from the display along the front. We made them about twenty minutes ago, so it should still be pretty fresh.
Before leaving, Sander tells me to text him when I get off and he’ll come pick me up.
I’m not sure how many more late-night drives I can take with my best friend before it inevitably becomes awkward.
Flipping Bodhi’s card over in my hand, I think about taking him up on his offer, if only to avoid Sander’s advances.
Chapter 11
It’s been close to a week since the accident on the south side, and I haven’t heard from Keaton about her car once. I wish I could say that I could just accept the fact that maybe she honestly didn’t want my help, but something about the whole thing just stood out to me and I couldn’t keep it off my mind. Which has made practice today especially difficult.
Every lap grew slower and slower as I recalled my interaction with her in the coffee shop, and that look of anger on her face when the cop walked in. Like I had caught her in a lie. But which lie? That he wasn’t her boyfriend, or that she didn’t like him? Not that it mattered, because he most definitely liked her.
“Better bring it in, Bodhi,” Art’s voice filters through my earpiece.
The uneasy tone of his voice had my stomach dropping. Art may get disappointed in my lack of attention sometimes, but he usually just shouts at me to pull my head out of my ass and focus on the track in front of me. No, his tone was a sort of warning. One that told me I was in for an earful one I pulled up.
My dad has been in a really shitty mood ever since the accident, and he has done little in the way of hiding his outright disgust for me at the moment.
I pull into the pit and start unfastening my belts as the members of my pit crew walk up and start surrounding the car. After the netting at my window is pulled away, I hoist myself up and out of the car, passing my helmet over to one of the guys before approaching Art, my dad hovering in the background with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Daggers are burning in his eyes and ready to be thrown at me at a moment’s notice.
“What’s up? Is it the car?” Art asks, reaching a handout and clasping my shoulder.
“No, the car’s fine.”
Art glances back over his shoulder at my dad before turning to me and leaning in. “So what is it? You’re not yourself today.”
I scoff and shake my head. “Not a single day spent in that car have I been myself, Art.”
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but you need to figure it out on your own time, and not here when your dad’s watching.”
He’s not chastising me, I know that, but the reprimand still feels a little too familiar for my liking.
“How about you just let me go deal with him?” I clap Art on the side as I walk by, preparing myself for the bullshit I know my old man is about to spew.
“What the hell seems to be the problem?”
“No problem, the car is running fine.”
“So, do you mind telling me why the hell you’re driving like shit?”
I think he expects how he talks to me to have some kind of impact, but his icy tone does nothing to my already frozen heart. After years of his verbal assaults, I hardly even feel that stab of pain they’re meant to inflict anymore. Whether I’m just accustomed to it by now or have put up such a thick wall that he can’t get through it, I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t care to take the time to figure that one out.
“What do you mean? I’m driving like I always do.”
“Cut the shit, Bodhi.”
Just as I open my mouth to respond with something just as rude, my personal assistant Rick creeps up quietly with someone in tow.
“Excuse me, Bodhi?”
“Do you not see that we’re having a conversation here?” My dad snaps at Rick.
I hired Rick early this year when scheduling and PR started to stack up. With more dates to remember than actual days on the calendar, I knew I needed help. So, I found Rick online. I wanted someone who hadn’t already been jaded by my dad and wouldn’t feel the need to pander to his outlandish whims. For that reason, I felt a little protective of my assistant.
“Never mind that Rick, we were just finishing up here, anyway. What can I help you with?” I say, turning to give him my full attention, effectively ignoring my father’s presence.
Rick’s gaze shifts quickly between my dad’s and my own, but much to his credit, he doesn’t waver, standing up a little straighter as he addresses me.
