Hustle

by Teagan Kade

  Carl drops his helmet, walking towards him. “You Americans think you’re so big and tough—John Wayne. Bang, bang. You’re weak, children.”

  Andy puts his hands out, taunting him. “Jesus, that really hurt, Carl. Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”

  Carl steps right up to him. They’re in each other’s faces, the press drawn in from pit lane and gathering like flies to honey. I make to intervene, but my path is blocked by a fresh swarm of cameramen keen to get a good angle of the showdown.

  Problem is, both men seem oblivious.

  A mechanic tries to pull Carl away, but he snaps, barking for him to leave.

  Carl presses a finger into Andy’s chest. “Okay, Yankee Doodle, you want to know what I really think of you?”

  “Please.”

  “I think you’re a spoiled, silver-spooned American who has had everything handed to him. You haven’t worked for this like I have. I doubt you even know what work looks like.”

  “You know nothing about what I’ve given up.”

  “No? You’re about to give up the championship, to me. How does that feel?”

  “Feels like I want to teach you a lesson in manners.”

  They’re literally chest-to-chest.

  No, god, please. Not now.

  Where the hell is Steven? Why isn’t anyone trying to stop them?

  He doesn’t want to.

  “Andy!” I yell, but he ignores me.

  Carl leans into his ear and whispers something.

  Andy’s fist whips up and wallops Carl hard in the jaw.

  Carl goes down, stumbling to the left, a second to recover before he swings back, connecting low into Andy’s chest.

  It’s on.

  The two of them go wrestling to the ground, arms flying, the side of Carl’s face bloodied.

  Finally, two stewards manage to get through the throng and pull them apart, Andy almost knocks one of them out in the process.

  “The championship’s mine, Carl!” he yells. “Fucking deal with it!”

  Carl gets to his feet, pushing the steward away and spitting a wad of blood to the ground, testing his jaw. He doesn’t say anything before walking off, camera shutters running continuously as he disappears around the corner.

  I manage to make it to Andy. There’s a cut on the side of his face, his race suit’s dirty, and his hair ruffled. His eyes are red, demonic. “What?” he snaps when I try to touch him.

  “Calm down.”

  He spins around. “Fucking calm down?”

  He starts walking for the garage, kicking over an extinguisher on his way.

  A second later my phone starts to ring. I don’t need to look at the screen to know it’s Caliber. News travels fast.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: JAPAN

  Andy

  Japan’s a beautiful country, but I can’t seem to enjoy it this time around. Things with Sara are fine, but the fight with Carl has been following me around, drawing too much attention to the team. It was stupid—really fucking stupid.

  I actively avoid team meetings, everyone treading on egg shells whenever we’re forced together. Lately, it’s been way too much.

  Sara’s curled against my back. It’s comforting, having her here, but I don’t want her to get swept up into this chaos any more than she has to. If it wasn’t for her, though, I might have taken it further, let my temper get the better of me.

  You can’t let it happen again. Keep your fucking cool. Win. Profit.

  I carefully lift her arm off my side and slide out of bed, letting everything soak away in the shower. There’s a controller on the wall with countless buttons. I press one out of curiosity and the showerhead lights up blue. It feels like I’m taking a shower in the middle of a strip club.

  Fucking Japan.

  “They think of everything, don’t they?”

  Sara’s standing outside the shower naked, perfect, everything I’ve ever wanted and more. There was a time when I’d look at a girl I slept with and instantly be picturing the next, but not with Sara. I see her and can’t think about anyone else. I’ve tried, but she’s done something to me, rewired my brain. I dream of her and her alone. No one else gets a second look.

  “They do,” I reply, pressing another button. The water turns into a cascading waterfall complete with sounds of the forest.

  She opens the door and steps in, hands against my chest, lifting a leg up my side and opening herself to me.

  I reach down and slide a finger inside her. She’s wet, slick.

  “Bit like a theme park ride,” she laughs.

  “Wait ’til you try the toilet.”

  She reaches down and takes hold of my cock, pushing it down and lifting herself over it. She sinks down, mouth opening and the soft pink pillow of her tongue begging me to take it.

  Her lips part further. “God, I needed that.”

  “A shower? I thought I was the dirty one.”

  She reaches up and holds the side of my face. “You might think you have done your research on me, but let me tell you, I can be dirty too when I want.”

  *

  It’s cold at Suzuka, but this isn’t a problem when Sara’s around.

  I rub my hands together. “What do you want to do today?”

  We’ve got almost a full day without commitments, a true rarity. I intend to make the most of it.

  “There’s Motopia, a theme park, hot springs, golf…”

  Sara laughs beside me, head on my chest. I love the way her voice vibrates through my body, her breath hot and moist on my skin. “Do I look like I play golf?”

  “Tight pants, polo, one of those visor hats—Sexy-as-sin.”

  “How about tennis?”

  “Pleated skirts are my kryptonite. Now you know my secret you can destroy me.”

  She grabs my deflated cock through my pants. “Looks like I already have.”

  “Three times in an hour will do that to any guy.”

  “But you’re the incredible Andy Fortes.”

  “Pleated skirts aside, I’m not Superman, sorry.”

  She pouts. “Pity.”

  “Besides, aren’t you getting friction burn down there by now?”

  “I don’t know. Whenever I’m around you I always seem to be wet. Funny isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been told I have that effect. So, plans?”

  “You seem to be up to date on the best places to eat, and I do need to replenish lost energy.”

  I grin. “You know me too well.”

  *

  Sara seems skeptical as she looks down into the bowl. “It’s a bowl of noodles.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not just any bowl of noodles. These noodles are lovingly crafted with the kind of care a mother would give her baby. Each one is a masterpiece. These are the best goddamn soba noodles in the world.”

  She looks around at what is, generally, a rather rural establishment. “How did you even find this place?”

  I breathe in the broth. “Like I said, locals know best. I throw my name around a bit, see what comes up. Why the hell not?”

  “Here goes nothing.” Watching her try and handle chopsticks is adorable. The chef’s cracking up watching her struggle.

  I hold her hands. “Like this. Yes, that’s right.”

  “Suck it in,” I tell her, “Slurp it up nice and loud. It’s respectful.”

  She does as instructed. I’m a little nervous, but her expression changes from caution to odd curiosity. “Wow, it’s… kind of good, I think.”

  “Kind of amazing?”

  She takes another slurp, a noodle snaking between her lips. “Definitely growing on me.”

  “Like something else I know.”

  We finish up, thank the chef and walk beside a quiet stream, a group of ayu fishermen with their trousers pulled up, in the middle of the water. They wave as we pass.

  Sara looks around in wonder. “My god this place is beautiful.”

  “It used to be the personal gardens of the Emperor’s
mistresses.”

  “Did you just make that up?”

  I lift my shoulders. She definitely knows me too well now. “Maybe.”

  “Emperor or not, someone’s spent some time on it.”

  We sit on a small stone bench and watch the water burble and pass.

  “Racing seems so far away, doesn’t it?”

  She leans into my side. “I want to stay here forever, the two of us.”

  “You wouldn’t get bored?”

  “Would you get bored? Surely you’re going to get sick of me soon.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Is that what you really think? Is it because I’ve never been in a long-term relationship?”

  “Maybe,” she fires back.

  I try to consider how to put it. “I’ve been with a lot of girls. That’s pretty much public record. Have they meant anything to me? Cruel as it sounds, no. You? It sounds cheesy, but you’re different. I recognized it the first time we met, the way you challenged me, didn’t let any of my usual bullshit pass.”

  “You used some terrible lines.”

  “Hey, it’s all I know.”

  She looks sullen. “And now, now that you’ve been with me?”

  “That’s the thing. Usually when I sleep with someone I can’t wait to get away from them, but you? All I want is more.”

  “Now that is a good line.”

  I draw her into me. “Like I said, I’m full of surprises.”

  *

  It’s fucking déjà vu come race day. Carl poles and I sit second. I tell myself it means nothing, but my patience is wearing thin. It’s the same for the race itself. Everything I try comes up short. I’ve dominated Suzuka in the past, but even though I pull a personal best today I still can’t get past Carl. He takes the win and another twenty-five points, pushing him back to three points ahead overall.

  I take it as best I can, leaving the track early and finding Sara clearly upset sitting on the edge of her bed.

  I sit down beside her, take her hand. Her phone lies on the bed beside her. “What’s up?”

  She turns to me, eyes puffy, her usual emotional fortitude under attack. “I just got off the phone with work.”

  “And?” Whatever the problem is, I’m going to fix it. I can’t win on the track but I can sure as hell handle whatever this is.

  “They want me to break up with you.”

  Maybe not. I sit back. “Why?”

  “The fight last race, the rivalry—it’s not good for Caliber’s branding.”

  I shrug. “Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

  “Not always.”

  “And you’re going to listen to them?”

  “She made it very simple, Andy. If I don’t break things off with you, I’ll be taken off the contract. I’ll have to go home.

  “They can’t do that.”

  “They can do whatever they want.”

  “I’ll call them, tell them—”

  She holds my chest. “No, it won’t do any good for you to get involved.”

  “We can keep it on the down-low, avoid being seen in public together.”

  “I want to be seen in public with you, Andy. Otherwise, what’s the point? I don’t want to be the ghost-like girlfriend no one sees. That’s not me. That’s not you.”

  I consider this, sitting in a chair by the window, the Suzuka Ferris wheel slowly turning much like the cogs in my head. “What do you want to do? It’s your call. You make a decision and I’ll respect it. You have my word.”

  She places a hand against the window, looking at her own reflection. It looks like she barely recognizes herself. “I don’t know, Andy. I don’t know what to do.”

  She continues to gaze at herself, trying to talk herself into something. “There’s more.”

  “More?” I question, standing.

  “I found out Steven’s been calling my boss.”

  I don’t need to look at my reflection to know my face darkens. “What’s that prick been saying?”

  “I don’t know, but you can be sure he’s trying to stir things up.”

  I punch the wall but barely feel it. “I’m going to knock his fucking lights out.”

  She takes my wrist. “Violence isn’t going to solve anything and you know it. We need to play this carefully. There are only a few more rounds left and you need to stay on track.”

  A lightbulb goes off in my head. “Work for me.”

  She laughs until she realizes I’m serious. “What?”

  “As my PR manager. It’s in the contract. I can select one of my own choosing, even you.”

  “Steven would never go for that.”

  “I pay you. It’s legal. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “Really?”

  I smile. “Really.” I take her by the shoulders. “Come on. You’d still get to travel the world. It would still be challenging.”

  She looks down at my crotch. “You haven’t been much of a challenge so far.”

  I reach around and grab her ass through her jeans. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  It’s a ludicrous idea, but I can see her considering it.

  I see it in her eyes, the thought growing, but there’s more.

  Holy shit, she’s in love with me.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: USA

  Sara

  Home, sweet home. Not quite. Texas is Andy’s home, though he tells me Austinites are a littler weirder than most. Journeying through the city, I can see why. Bumper stickers proclaim ‘Keep Austin Weird’, saloons placed next to BBQs and taco stands. Bat tours, the Museum of Ephemerata… You’d think you were in Roswell.

  I’m draining the last of my coffee in the Paddock Club overlooking the rather patriotic Circuit of the Americas. I close my inbox, then the lid of my laptop. It took five calls and seven emails, but it’s done. I have officially left Caliber.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Being with Andy is one thing, but working for him is surely another. Whatever happens, I’m going to approach it like any other job. If I’m going to be in crazytown, I’m going to be the best damn PR manager in crazytown.

  It’s the day before qualifying when I realize how much work I have cut out for myself. Entering the Goodall garage is like stepping onto the set of a spy thriller. There are shifty glances, sweeping eyes. No one trusts anyone.

  Andy’s going over his car with Klaus. They’ve been at it for hours. Steven’s quiet over by the monitors, Carl’s nowhere to be seen. I don’t think this space could handle the three of them at once. A black hole would open up or something.

  I approach Andy, handing him a brief. “All the material you need for the press conference. I’ve been in touch with the media, got a feel for what questions they’ll ask. I also sent it to your phone.”

  “I see.” His eyes drop. “How will I ever repay you?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Mr. Fortes.”

  “So formal.”

  Steven walks past us on his way out. I’m sure he’s going to keep his mouth shut, but he stops next to Andy. “You watch yourself out there.”

  Andy lets it go, giving the bird to his back.

  Goodall is openly hostile. No amount of clever PR is going to cover it up. My job is simply to stem the damage.

  *

  Andy meets me at the top of The Tower, a two-hundred-and-fifty-one-foot observation platform. The colorful centerpiece has views all the way to Austin itself. At first I thought it was a ski jump.

  Andy leans over the edge of the railing. “Long way down.”

  I join him, a little shaky. “Long way to the top, too.”

  He turns to me. “You don’t need to worry. I’ve got this.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about, Andy. It’s everyone else.”

  “I can’t trust anyone. I know that. Klaus, maybe, but even then…”

  His arms look even better in leather.

  The sun’s setting, half a blushing disc sinking afar.

  It’s so stran
ge to think how dependent we’ve become upon one another. A man I couldn’t stand at the start of the year is now the love of my life, stealing my thoughts and desires. I never thought I could feel this way. I never expected to love so deeply. Valentine’s Day commercial aside, I’m hornier than an alley cat—all the damn time. It’s insane.

  I press tighter against his side, my hand slipping down the front of pants. “All the crew’s out tonight. The garage is empty.”

  He looks sideways. “And?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Fancy a pit stop?”

  *

  Once the garage door’s down, it doesn’t take us long to get to business.

  We kiss in front of Andy’s car, only the light of the monitors beside us providing guidance.

  I can hear people moving around the other pits, voices, but I don’t care. All I want is Andy inside me as soon as possible.

  He sheds his jacket, never breaking the kiss, tearing my blouse open and popping my bra up to fill his greedy hands.

  The smell of metal, grease and rubber is heavy in the air, my arousal building.

  Andy takes a nipple between his fingers, gently rolling it between them. “What can I do you for today, ma’am?”

  I undo his belt, start to push his jeans down his legs. “I need a full service and flush, top to bottom, inside and out.”

  He laughs. “I think that can be arranged.”

  He grips my nipple a little harder. I wheeze with desire, my pussy twitching with need.

  He removes his pants and underwear, hooking them off his ankle and kneeling before me. He places his fingers into the sides of my jeans and slowly peels them down my legs as I kick off my runners, his breath a hot cloud on the front of my panties.

  I take off my blouse and bra, tossing them away and lifting his shift and singlet over his head. He pulls my panties away with one hand, the crotch sticky and wet, letting them sit on the ground between my feet so we’re both naked in the middle of the garage, exposed.

  I watch as he takes in my bare sex, my slit already slippery with arousal.

  His cock stirs, lifting by strings unseen until it’s high and proud, the tip leaking.

  Andy comes forward and takes my breasts in his hands, weighing them as his mouth moves over mine and the kiss resumes once more.

  We collapse, my ankle sending a bottle of lubricant spilling out onto the floor, a tray of nuts sent in the same direction. My back hits Andy’s car as he falls over me, lifting himself and looking down my body. “That nose cone you’re lying on is worth a hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars, you know.”