Driven by Ambition, page 3
“With so many people moving on the stage during the set up, it probably provides cover for a thief rather than protection against it.”
Jaxxon couldn’t hold back a scoff. “You’ve been watching too many heist movies.”
Freddy’s spontaneous grin was a delight. “Perhaps.”
“I have one of our IT people going over all the footage. Skye’s expertise in that area was instrumental in solving the sabotage issue last season. I trust them.”
Freddy nodded. “I met them a few months ago. They are highly competent.”
Jaxxon hadn’t had much to do with the sabotage issue; it had affected him as the race engineer for Ondrej, whose car had been tampered with twice, while Paulo’s car had suffered three sabotage failures. Until a month ago, being Team Principal had only been a dream; one he’d believed was still a decade away.
“We have an excellent team here. If anyone can find the trophies, it is our people.”
“Good luck.” Freddy stuck out his hand and Jaxxon shook it. The tiny tingle that meandered up his arm had to be his imagination.
“Call me when you find something from your collector friend.”
“I will.”
Jaxxon nodded once, then walked away from the intriguing Freddy Hiptonstall before he did something daft like invite him to help with their investigation. Getting a high profile media personality involved was the height of ridiculousness. He swallowed down a sigh; Freddy was already helping by asking his collector friends for information. Could Jaxxon trust him to come to him with the information first, or would he learn it as part of a breaking news story?
Chapter 3
Freddy high-fived Georgia’s hand and chalk dust puffed into the air. His PA had been the one to introduce him to bouldering a few years ago, and now he came as often as he could before the season started. Bouldering was great for his fitness and coordination as well as being a good mental challenge. Now that he was ... fuck ... nearly forty-five, it took more work to keep his body fit. Back when he was a driver, he’d spent so much time focusing on his fitness and he’d taken it for granted that he’d always be an athlete, always be able to do anything without worrying that he might pull his hamstring or twinge his left ankle.
“That was a tricky one, boss.”
Freddy grinned. “How many times have I told you to stop calling me boss.”
“I imagine it’s better than the alternative.
“Yes.” He really didn’t want to be addressed by his formal title. His father insisted on it, calling him Beautravers whenever he visited the family pile, but Freddy wasn’t his father and didn’t need to impress anyone with all that nonsense. It wasn’t a secret—he was literally in Debretts—but he didn’t like flashing it around. His life was impressive enough without needing to flaunt the one thing he’d been gifted at birth and did nothing to earn.
His phone rang and he grabbed it from the little pile at the edge of the mat. Jaxxon’s name flashed on screen and for half a second, he contemplated ignoring the call.
“Freddy speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Jaxxon Loharani-Jones.”
“Yes, my phone told me that. What’s up?” He hadn’t expected a call from Jaxxon, especially with only a week until pre-season testing. Most of the media was filled with the usual invented bullshit where people tried to drum up excitement for the season without any basis for truth. He ignored it; his real job would start as soon as the cameras turned on in Bahrain.
“There’s a rumour that the 1962 championship trophy has been stolen.”
“Graham Montblanc?”
“Yes.”
“Only his first win, not 1968 as well? It makes no sense. Both trophies are still held by the Montblanc family.”
“It’s a rumour.”
Freddy breathed in. “Probably total bullshit.” Logically, if he were to go to all the effort of stealing a trophy from a dual world champion’s house, he’d take both, not one.
“Yes. Did you hear from your contact?”
Freddy choked back a laugh. “This isn’t a spy movie.”
“And Socrates had a bad week, so I’d like to be able to give him some news.” The tension in Jaxxon’s voice tugged at Freddy’s heart. Everyone in the paddock loved the old fucker, and the news that Socrates was struggling—in his mystery illness—made Freddy square his shoulders and step up to help. “I can call him.”
“Thanks.”
“See you at pre-season testing.” Freddy hung up before Jaxxon could say anything else.
“Everything okay, boss?”
“Yeah, just the usual rumours and nonsense at work.” He swallowed, evading Georgia’s real question. “Want to come to pre-season testing with me?”
Georgia shook her head. “I can’t. It’s my week with the kids.” They were with her ex-wife today, hence the bouldering session. She always put a note in his calendar for when she had her kids and when she didn’t.
“Bring them.”
“I’m not taking them out of school on a whim for you.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at him for a while. “Who was on that phone call? Is it someone you want to avoid and you want me to run interference on?”
Damn, she was astute, but then, that was why he’d employed her. He cleared his throat.
“It is,” she laughed and pointed her finger at him. “What did you do?”
He tapped his chest. “Nothing. Why do you assume I did something?” He pretended to be upset but Georgia saw through all that with a little frown.
“Then it’s someone you fancy. ... Hold up a second. It’s not like you to be interested in someone in the paddock.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His cheeks were hotter than he’d like, and he could hardly blame the physical exertion from climbing either.
Georgia grinned. “Oh my god! It’s true. You have the hots for the person you were just talking to, don’t you? Who? Who?” She reached for his phone, and he batted her hand away.
“The hots? It isn’t the nineties anymore.” He tried to distract her with nonsense.
“Tell me who you want to fuck.” It didn’t work. She saw right through his basic strategy.
“Fuck, Georgia. Don’t you have any boundaries? I’m your boss.”
She cackled. “Now you want to use the boss card.”
“Yes. Definitely. This is me using the boss card and telling you not to continue this line of questioning.”
Georgia bowed, a sardonic expression on her face. “And he confirms the rumour by avoiding talking about it.”
Fuck. “It’s nothing.”
“Really?” Georgia’s eyebrows flew upwards.
“Yes, really.” He didn’t need to explain himself. Not to anyone, except this was Georgia who’d saved his ass on more than one occasion. “Fine. But only because you are a decent friend.”
“Go on, tell your friend everything. I want all the little details.”
Freddy rubbed his forehead. “I need a drink for this.”
“I think we are done here. Let’s head next door to the pub.” Georgia grabbed her things and marched off to the change room. He followed. At least this would give him a few minutes to figure out what the heck he was going to say. Jaxxon was incredibly hot—physically and oozing with confidence—and after talking him for the sum total of twice, he wanted to fuck him. It broke all his rules about not hooking up with anyone from work. It was just a crush. Damn it. He didn’t even know if Jaxxon was queer, although, he was Team Principal for the most openly queer team on the grid, so at least he’d be kind about it if Freddy did do the unthinkable and flirt with him. Shit. What a tangle.
Half an hour later, Freddy slid into a booth at the pub and passed Georgia one of the two pints he’d purchased. The pub next to the bouldering place was an old dive that smelled of beer-soaked carpets and bad decisions, but during the quiet afternoons only three old bar flies sat spread out around the bar, deliberately seated so each person was definitely and defiantly alone.
“Time to tell Aunty Georgia everything.”
“Fuck off.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Sure. Why are we here then?”
Freddy sipped his beer. “There really is nothing to tell.” It was mostly his imagination and a healthy dose of fear of repeating the past.
“Come on. You can bullshit yourself, but me?” Georgia tapped her chest.
“Fine.” He wouldn’t have come to the pub unless he wanted to talk about this, so he may as well admit it out loud. “I think I have a crush on someone who is—”
“Out of bounds?”
“Impossibly so.”
“In what way? Are they straight?”
Freddy drank more of his beer. “If I had to guess, I’d say no, but it’s not like you can tell by looking at someone.”
“So why do you guess that?” Georgia’s question was exactly what he wanted because it shifted the discussion away from why he couldn’t flirt with a Team Principal.
“Just a hunch.”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Freddy.”
“Fine. He works for Gamble Racing.”
She nodded. “Right. So if he ... He?”
“Yes, he’s a cis man.”
“If he works for Gamble Racing, then if he’s not straight, he’s at least not a bigot.” Georgia nailed the summary. After more than five years of working for him, she couldn’t help but know all the teams. He waited and yes, there it was, the moment of understanding.
“Back up a second. You. You have a crush ... on someone who works for Gamble Racing?” Georgia spoke slowly, over-enunciating each word.
“Now you see the problem.”
She shrugged. “I always thought your rule about not banging anyone in the paddock was a silly one. It’s not going to happen again.” She’d been there during the Chester disaster, but her curious glance made him hope that he could avoid talking about it.
“Yeah, it’s not that.” It was. “It’s more that there’s a high potential for long term awkwardness. We all travel together all year.” Freddy worked with these people. The season was its own weird bubble with ten teams competing in the same space, staying the same hotels, and using the same planes to get between tracks. He had a reputation for being likable and easy to get along with. He didn’t want to wreck that by creating potentially awkward situations; and sometimes ex-lovers could be pretty fucking weird, especially when they figured out the implications that followed from knowing who his father was. Especially then.
“Okay. I can see how that might be a problem. But if he’s cute?” Georgia wrinkled her nose with a little grin and a tilt of her head.
“Come on, you remember Chester Ormsby.” He didn’t want to bring this up. Like ever, except it was reason number one why he’d never get involved with someone from the paddock again.
Georgia scrunched up her face. “Oh God. What a fucking disaster that was.” She hadn’t worked for him when Chester had been around and hadn’t met him when they’d been together. Freddy had employed her to help him tidy up the messy aftermath.
“Yes.”
“How long ago was that?”
He realised that he’d never told her the whole story, only the bits that she needed to know to do her job. Back then, he’d been surviving the drama and then he’d avoided talking about it as much as possible. “I met him seven years ago, in my last season as a driver.”
“I never asked you about this. How did you meet him?” She waved her hands in the air. “I assume he’s the reason you won’t get involved with someone in the paddock. Yeah?” She made the connection quickly.
“Yes. He worked for my team, part of the social media team who travelled to each race. He did a lot of the graphic design.”
“You saw him around the paddock a lot?”
Freddy winced. “Not really. I didn’t interact with them much, just Sonia who was the boss of all that social media stuff.”
“Did he seek you out?” She knew Chester well enough to ask the right questions.
“Back then, I didn’t realise it, but yeah. After Kerrigan’s crash, I needed to get away from everyone, and he comforted me. Having someone queer in that moment of dread ... well, my therapist says that I latched onto him.”
“Makes sense. You’d just seen something awful, and he took advantage. Of course you weren’t going to see what he was back then.” Georgia knew what Chester had become; they’d just never talked about how it’d been before it all went to shit.
“Thanks. It took me a long time to forgive myself and not look at it with a pile of self-judgement.”
Georgia nodded. “I remember what a mess you were.” She held up one finger.
“What?”
“If you met Chester seven years ago, and I’ve only worked for you five and a half years, did that mean he stalked you for eighteen months before you asked for help?”
Freddy winced. “Not exactly. After I announced my retirement, he wanted to know if I was going to work for my father—”
“Did he think you, the second son, seventh in line, would become a Duke?”
“I think so?” He shook his head. “No. I know he thought that. I broke up with him because he hinted that I should arrange to have my brother killed so I’d be next in line for the Dukedom.” He still couldn’t believe the audacity that someone would suggest killing one’s own brother for gain. It was gross then and still gross now.
Georgia gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “You never told me that. Just that you had an ex who was stalking you.”
“Technically true. I needed your help to get him out of my life. New emails, new address, etc.” Obviously, Chester could find him if he really wanted to. Freddy was literally on television doing a job with a very public schedule, but it was the private ways to contact him that he’d changed. Georgia had helped set up restraining orders and all the legal stuff too. She’d probably done a bunch of things that he wasn’t even aware of—wasn’t capable of processing—to keep Chester away from him. She booked all Freddy’s travel. She must have talked to all the security teams across S1 too.
They sat in silence for a while.
“It does seem unlikely that you’d be unlucky enough to get a second stalker.” Georgia drank some beer. “Look, I understand your reticence and you’ve needed to ... fuck your way through the rest of the world who don’t care about cars to compensate for all that mess, but is that really a life?”
He raised one eyebrow. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“My relationship lasted ten years before we chose to end it.” Georgia was still good friends with her ex, Jennifer, and as far as Freddy could tell, their breakup had been mutual and they were able to be fairly pleasant to each other. Unlike his experience.
“Before Chester turned into stalker extraordinaire, I thought we were in a relationship. I was going to retire and grow old with him.” Never again. He didn’t need that type of drama in his life. He was better off living his life this way, alone but on his terms.
“Aren’t we just a pair of cynical old fucks then?”
Laughter burst out of him. “Georgie.”
“Well? It’s true.”
He stared at his PA for a while, eventually shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a crush. It’ll pass.”
“After pre-season testing, you will have moved on to someone else.”
“Yeah, probably.” It didn’t sound satisfying though. Would this be his life forever more? He’d always imagined he’d have a husband one day after he retired from driving. He’d assumed Chester would be that person, and instead Chester’s bad choices had put him off the idea for a long time, and no amount of therapy could get rid of the combined fear of being alone and also that being in a relationship was bad for him. It left him stuck in this place of endless hook ups, temporarily satisfying.
“What’s the matter?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t let one stalker stop me from trying again? If I pick someone who isn’t from the paddock and who understands that I’m seventh in line for the Dukedom and will never be a Duke. No delusions of grandeur.” He held his breath.
“Freddy?”
He winced. “Yeah?”
“Good for you. I want to see you happy.”
“But not for yourself.”
“It’s not the same. I’m still co-parenting, so I’m never lonely. I can chat to my kids anytime, and besides, it’d be a little mean to bring someone into my messy situation. Not every new lover wants to accept that I’m still good friends with my ex.”
“I have a different type of messiness. Who would want to be in a relationship with me? I spend most of the year travelling and talking about cars. Like...”
Georgia’s eyes sparkled, giving him a fraction of a second’s warning. “Perhaps you could try to have a relationship with someone who also spends all year traveling with the S1 circus?” Georgia’s emphasis on ‘also’ wasn’t as annoying as it should be.
“Georgia.”
“Does that tone mean that you think it’s not a circus?”
He shook his head indulgently. “You know I meant that I don’t want to mix a relationship with my work. Never again.”
“You don’t like my solution?”
“I could sack you.” He was kidding. She ran his whole life, organised fucking everything, so he just had to go where she sent him. The look on her face, absolute enjoyment in his discomfort, told him that she knew he would never do it.
“Fine. I would never.”
“Sack me, or chase your crush?”
He rolled his eyes. “He can chase me.” It was a joke, a way to obscure the truth, and judging by the grin on Georgia’s face, he’d failed at hiding anything.
“Let me know how that goes.”
“You know that I tell you everything.”
Georgia’s grin widened. “If I wasn’t a lesbian, we’d make the perfect couple.”
