With a sudden burst of speed, Harrison surges forward. He must have been preserving this burst of momentum just in case of emergency. It’s clear that Enzo wasn’t counting on Harrison’s secret reserve. The world slows back down to a crawl as Harrison inches past Enzo, moving up beside him little by little. Harrison is on the verge of securing himself a first place victory, fair and square.
That is, until Enzo loses patience with the sight of Harrison edging up to take away his lead. In a fraction of a second, my brother lets go of every rational thought, every precaution and measure of safety. He wrenches his car mightily to the right, just as Harrison is about to pull ahead once and for all. The nose of the green car catches its red competitor straight on, slamming right into its side. It’s a point-blank collision, the moment that every F1 driver, fan, and loved one hopes never ever to witness.
And yet, there it is.
Time slows to a sinister crawl as Harrison and Enzo’s cars slam together, crunching sickly in an eruption of metal and glass. The impact spins Harrison out across the track, and he struggles to gain control of his vehicle. But Enzo doesn’t even have that option. At once, his car turns onto its nose and flips over, skidding across the track toward the concrete barrier. Harrison loses his fight against momentum just as Enzo succumbs to his own inevitable trajectory. In one moment that will be blazed into my memory for as long as I live, the two cars slam against the unforgiving wall. The grating crash that rings out through the air is absolutely unearthly, and for a second, I tell myself that I must be having some surreal nightmare. What I’m witnessing can’t possibly be true.
But reality floods in with the incredulous gasp of the spectators. This is really happening. The edges of my vision begin to darken as the scene before me dissolves into chaos. Blaring sirens ring out across the track as emergency vehicles join the race cars on the track. Dark, oily smoke begins to billow up from the site of the crash, cloaking the scene beneath the crisp blue sky hanging overhead. A frenzied murmur rises up from the stands as fans crane their necks to get a good look at the wreckage. Around me, the Ferrelli pit goes into panic mode, and I feel my limp body get jostled out of the way.
Before I can even say a word, I slip into dark, dreamless unconsciousness. Faced with the ultimate worst case scenario, my mind and body can’t stand to carry on. I’m vaguely aware of the other cars that race on ahead of the wreck, but can’t even begin to register something as inconsequential as the outcome of a race right now. I don’t even feel myself hit the ground as the pit uncoils into chaos around me, rallying for Enzo. If I’m lucky, I’ll wake up from this terrible dream, emerge unscathed on the other side...but no amount of wishful thinking can fix this. Nothing can ever make this OK—my legs give out beneath me, and as I finally pass out, that is the only thing in the world I know to still be true.
Chapter Eleven
Awake In Hell
For a moment, just before I open my eyes, my mind is peaceful. I must be asleep in my hotel room, I reason. I’m about to begin another day on the F1 circuit, wrangling press and shaping narratives like the professional I am. Everything in my mind is calm, and even, and unremarkable...that is, until I finally crack open my eyes.
I sit up like a shot, looking wildly around the unfamiliar room. Where the hell am I? What the hell is going on, here? The space around me is white and sanitized, lit by harsh white light and not at all like my decadent hotel room. I must have passed out after the crash. Oh my God, the crash...I think frantically. I have to find out what’s happened to Harrison and Enzo.
“You’re awake,” I hear, as shaking arms enclose me in a tight embrace.
“Bex?” I say, pulling away from my best friend. I stare, bewildered, down into her tear-stained face. “What’s—Where—?”
“We’re at the hospital,” she tells me, smoothing down my hair, “You hit the floor after the wreck. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You’re OK, hun, you just got totally overwhelmed. I don’t blame you, of course—”
“The wreck...” I breathe, the sterile room spinning around me. I level my eyes at my best friend, knowing full well that in a moment, she might also be the bearer of the worst news I’ve ever heard. “You have to tell me what happened.”
“It was bad, Siena,” Bex whispers, her chin beginning to quiver. “But they were out so far ahead of the others that no one else got caught in the wreck. So that’s something. Marques took first. Rostov and Landers came in right behind him—”
“I don’t care about stats right now,” I cry, “Harrison and Enzo. They’re both...they’re not...” I trail off, unable to even form the words that express my darkest fears. My blood turns to ice as Bex struggles to catch her breath.
“They’re alive. Both of them,” she finally tells me, “I thought, we all thought the worst. When they were finally pulled out of the wreck, we thought for sure they’d be gone. You should have seen their cars, the way they got ruined against the wall. It’s a miracle that either of them is still with us.”
“They’re alive...” I say, forcing deep breaths into my lungs.
“Yes,” Bex tells me, “Somehow, by some miracle, they’re both alive. A little worse for the wear, sure—”
“I have to go see them,” I tell her, trying to get to my feet. “I have to see for myself that they’re OK. What if something’s changed—?”
“Not yet,” Bex says, pulling me back down onto the cot. “Just wait a minute, Siena.”
“Why? I have to make sure they’re being taken care of.”
“What are you going to do, burst into Harrison’s room and throw yourself at him? Go rail at Enzo for causing the wreck in the first place? This is a touchy situation, Siena. It has to be handled with care. And I don’t mean from a PR perspective, I mean from a human perspective. What is your plan right now?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, “I just...I want to see them.”
“You need to get your head on straight first,” Bex tells me. “The next couple of hours are really important. Enzo and Harrison are both going to be out of their minds with anger and fear and who knows what else. The media’s going to be waiting outside for some kind of statement. You have to have an even head about Harrison and your brother. You have to get your story straight. Maybe say it was all an accident?”
“I can’t believe Enzo would do something like this...” I mutter, burying my face in my hands, “I mean, I get that he’s mad at me...”
“Enzo?” Bex asks, “Why would he be mad at you?”
“Because he found out about me and Harrison,” I groan, “Just before the race. Someone sent him those pictures of us. I went into his trailer and saw them on his phone. All of them. My unknown asshole stalker decided to let him in on my little secret right before the Grand Prix.”
“Oh my god...” Bex whispers.
“I tried to keep him off the track,” I say wildly, “I tried to stop him, honestly I did. But he wouldn’t listen. And Dad and Gus kept trying to tell me that he was OK to drive. He could hardly look at me, he was so furious. I swear, I’ve never seen him so angry. Especially not with me...”
“You think he planned on wrecking Harrison?” Bex asks. “You think that he was just looking for an excuse to try and hurt him?”
“I have no idea,” I say, “I think in the state he was in, Enzo could have been capable of anything at all.”
“Do you think those pictures went to anyone else?” Bex presses. “Do you think the rest of the world might be about to find out about your secret?”
“They were on his phone,” I tell her, “Someone wanted him to know, specifically. It’s not like they’re plastered across the internet. Have you seen any tabloid covers starring yours truly today?”
“Not yet, anyway,” Bex says.
“Shit,” I mutter, rising shakily to my feet, “Shit, shit...”
“Now’s your moment, Siena,” Bex says, taking my hands in hers, “Your dad’s in Enzo’s room now. Your brother was knocked out for a spell, but h
e’s awake now. He’s a little battered, a concussion but he’s going to be just fine. Go in there and come clean to them, before anything else happens. It’s the only move you've got left. Tell them exactly what’s been happening between you and Harrison, the whole truth. It’s not perfect timing, but it’s what you’ve got to work with. It’s now or never, baby girl”
“OK,” I tell her, “I’m going. Shit, I guess I’m really going to do this.”
“Don’t let them shout you down,” Bex tells me, as I hurry out of the room, “Stand up for yourself, Siena. Stand up for you and Harrison.”
“Harrison,” I say, turning back, “He’s—?”
“Still out cold, I think,” she says quietly, “Banged up, but not broken. But let the doctors worry about him for now. Go and see your family. Make things right as best you can.”
I nod once and tear off through the hospital, in search of my dad and brother. My hands are trembling terribly as I search through the labyrinthine hospital. Raised voices and charging feet seem to careen all around me as I make my way along. I finally manage to corner a doctor and get set in the right direction. I arrive at my brother’s hospital room and peer through the narrow window set into the door.
Enzo is sitting up in bed, a huge bruise blossoming across one side of his face. His back in hunched, but he’s upright and alert. He’s speaking adamantly to my father, who listens with rapt attention. Whatever they’re talking about, neither of them looks comfortable or happy in the least. It certainly doesn’t seem like the ideal moment to intrude, but I must. Without knocking, I push open the hospital room door and step over the threshold.
Their eyes snap toward me as I straighten up, suspended in the doorway. The expressions on my father’s and brother’s faces are almost identical. They look angry, and hurt, and none-too-happy to see me.
“So. You’ve already told him,” I say to Enzo.
“Showed me, actually,” Dad says.
He’s holding Enzo’s phone is his hand. And through the spiderweb of cracks in its screen, I can spot Harrison’s smiling face beside my own. For a long moment, not one of us can speak. I came here to be honest, to finally let my family in on this secret I’ve been keeping for so long. But now that the moment has arrived, I have no idea how to relate the last couple of months to them. How can I tell them how much I care about Harrison without breaking their hearts?
“Have you come to try and explain yourself?” Enzo asks, his eyes boring into me. “Because I can assure you, neither or us is interested in your excuses.”
“I’ve come to explain the situation,” I correct him. “If you’d just let me—”
“It seems pretty cut and dry to me,” Enzo says, fury boiling in his every word. “Pictures speak a thousand words, Siena. And with all these photos, I think we’ve already got a goddamn novel on our hands.”
“I was going to tell you about us,” I say, “Really, I was. I wanted to. I was trying to find the perfect moment—”
“To tell us that you’ve been fucking Harrison Davies behind our backs?” Enzo demands.
“Enzo!” Dad rasps, “Don’t speak about your sister that way. She’s made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean you can—”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Enzo goes on, “Are you or are you not sleeping with Davies, Siena? Tell the truth, for once.”
“Why bother asking questions that you know the answers to?” I say softly. Enzo’s mouth falls open at my blunt answer, and I press forward. “It’s not as simple as all that, Enzo.”
A cruel laugh escapes my brother’s throat. “I’m sure it’s not, Siena,” he says, “I’m sure you have some wonderful justification for your behavior. You’re a professional spin artist, after all. But I’m telling you right now, there’s nothing you can say that will make this OK. What the hell were you thinking, getting involved with him?”
“I was thinking that I’d met someone I enjoyed spending time with. Someone who could understand me—”
“He’s the enemy,” Enzo spits.
“He’s the competition,” I correct him heatedly, “You made him the enemy because you were afraid he’d steal the championship you decided was rightfully yours. You have been picking fights with him since he showed up on the track. You were the one who caused the wreck this afternoon and almost got yourself and Harrison killed. So don’t sit there and lecture me about justification and spin, Enzo. You’re not in the right here, brother. Not by any means.”
“Enough, both of you,” Dad says, pulling himself to standing. “How the hell did the two of you get to be such stubborn, immovable hot heads?”
“Well, we are your kids,” I remind him.
“Siena, I think your brother and I do deserve an explanation here,” he says, ignoring my jibe, “I’m trying very hard to be rational about all this. If this gets out, we’re all going to get dragged into it. All of our careers are going to be impacted. So please, give us a story that we can actually work with, here.”
“You’re not just going to disown me on the spot?” I say, only half kidding.
“Tell us what happened,” Dad insists, “Please, Siena. You owe us that much.”
I look back and forth between my brother and father, wishing there was an easy way to have this conversation. But no one ever said that the truth is supposed to be easy.
“It started in Barcelona,” I begin.
“Yeah. We know that much from the pictures,” Enzo scoffs.
“Are you going to let me do this, Enzo, or just keep raining scorn down on me?”
He holds up his hands, gesturing for me to continue. I take a deep breath and carry on.
“Charlie and I were out at this open air nightclub, and Harrison came over to introduce himself. Offered to buy me a drink. Charlie got huffy and left, but I stayed. I met Harrison’s friends, some other McClain people. This was before Naughton’s crash, so Harrison hadn’t had his big debut yet. I figured that he was just some McClain pit guy. He told me he worked for McClain, but never what his job was. I mentioned that I worked for Ferrelli, but I never told them in what capacity. I never even told them my last name. I thought it would just be one night of hanging out with their group, a couple of drinks, but Harrison and I really hit it off, before we even really knew who the other was.”
“But surely, Davies would have known your face,” Dad says, “He would have been studying his competition, even if we was just a backup driver. He must have known exactly who you were, before you even introduced yourself. He could have seen you walk into the bar and known right on the spot.”
“Maybe,” I allow, remembering that Harrison admitted to knowing who I was even from that first night. But I don’t like Dad’s insinuating tone, here.
“Don’t you think it’s possible he sought you out to mess with me?” Enzo asks harshly. “I mean, why else would he have approached you out of nowhere? That’s not how normal people behave, Siena.”
“And I suppose he tampered with Naughton’s car and caused his crash to become McClain’s main driver, right?” I shoot back angrily, “I guess that his interest in me was based solely on the fact that I’m your sister, and couldn’t possibly have to do with the fact that we make a good match. Grow up, Enzo. Not everything’s about you.”
“I just think you’re giving Davies a whole lot of credit where it’s not due,” Enzo says.
“And you’re not giving him any,” I say, “You don’t even know him, Enzo.”
“OK, so the first night you didn’t know that Harrison was a driver. But then, you must have figured out who he really was pretty quickly once he did move up the McClain food chain, yes?” Dad prompts.
“Yeah, it became apparent pretty quickly after Naughton crashed,” I say.
“You realized who he was, but you continued to see him?” Dad asks.
“Well, yeah,” I say, “We were enjoying each other’s company, and I didn’t think there was some ironclad rule about not hanging out with other teams and drivers. Enzo flirts and
sleeps with others team’s members and groupies all the time. Sorry to burst your bubble, but this is not an unprecedented thing, me and Harrison. At first, I thought this would just be a little season-long fling, a couple of dates under the radar, no big deal. I didn’t think it was worth making a big deal of, back when I thought it would just be a casual little thing.”
“But then the spat between Davies and your brother happened,” Dad goes on.
“Exactly,” I say, averting my eyes from Enzo.
“And you still didn’t break it off with him,” my brother says, “Even after you saw that there was bad blood between us. Even when you knew that I couldn’t stand the guy, that he was a good-for-nothing son of a bitch. That was weeks ago, Siena. And you’ve been carrying on with him all this time, doing god knows what—”
“Why not?” I cry, “Why should I have broken it off with Harrison after your little playground squabble with him? Why should my life be dictated by your every whim, Enzo? That’s how we’ve done things since we were kids. The entire family’s always revolved around you. My life has always revolved around you. Excuse me for putting my own wishes before yours. Excuse me for following my heart, just this once.”
“Can you even hear yourself?” Enzo laughs meanly, “Following your heart? Please tell me you’re joking. He’s using you, Siena! He’s using you to get to me, to boost his own reputation. Stealing away a Lazio from Team Ferrelli would make him look like the biggest badass to ever hit F1. He’s not your knight in shining armor, he’s not your soul mate, he’s a dirt bag. I thought you were smarter than this, Siena. I never thought you were the kind of girl who’d be so fooled by a pretty face. You’re lucky that someone sent me those pictures so you can finally understand what’s at stake if you don’t back off.”
Faster Deeper (Take Me...#2) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) Page 11