by Jim Cangany
“I know, but don’t you feel like you have some unfinished business with Chas?” Mandy applied some flashy pink lipstick that Gabrielle would never in a million years feel comfortable wearing. “I know I’d love to meet him alone in a dark alley sometime.” She slipped her lipstick in a tiny purse. “You look amazing, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Gabrielle’s cheeks grew warm. “Maybe I can get a little revenge with my outfit. What do you think?”
Mandy, who was in an all-black cocktail dress, gave her a head-to-toe look. “I hope Brad has asbestos in his suit, because you look hot enough to burn his clothes right off. Shall we?”
Gabrielle laughed but allowed herself to revel in the compliment. They exchanged a fist bump and went to join the rest of Gale Force Racing team to make their grand entrance into the celebration.
After accepting a hug from Barbara, Gabrielle took the arm a wide-eyed Brad offered her. His black tuxedo made him look like he would fit in on the set of a James Bond movie, but it was the color of his bow tie that warmed her heart.
“You look quite dashing. Love that shade of purple, too.”
He smiled as his cheeks pinked up. “I thought it was fitting for the occasion.”
“Thank you, for everything.” Gabrielle kissed him on the cheek. She lingered for a moment, reveling in the cinnamon and sandalwood scent of his aftershave.
Most people thought purple was the dominant Racer Girlz color because it was the color of the number fourteen on Gabrielle’s car. It worked, so she hadn’t bothered correcting anybody. But Brad knew the real reason.
She thought of that rainy afternoon at a track in Virginia. With nothing to do but wait for the skies to clear, Gabrielle, Brad, and J.P. had passed the time talking about their favorite things in the world, including color. J.P.’s unending optimism made it easy to remember that yellow was his favorite color. Gabrielle’s was purple, in part because she’d always loved violets.
Try as she might, she couldn’t recall Brad’s favorite color. Then the doors to the banquet hall were opened and, in the grandeur, she totally lost her train of thought.
On the dais, a two-foot-tall gleaming silver chalice stood like a sentry, waiting to be claimed by Chas as the series champion. To its left stood a golden trophy, to be given to the rookie of the year. A crystal plaque with bronze accents was on the other side of the championship cup. It would be awarded to the driver of the year.
Since the team finished second in the season championship, they were seated near the front of the room. As they were taking their seats, Barbara leaned close to Gabrielle. “I’ve heard a rumor one of the awards has your name on it. Might want to get a few thoughts in order.”
A fabulous lemon-pepper fish dinner made it easy for Gabrielle to focus on her meal and keep any award-related butterflies at bay. After a dessert of chocolate mousse, she could have gone home a happy woman then and there. It wasn’t to be, though, and as a video recap of the season ran, she grabbed Brad’s hand to steady herself.
In response to his raised eyebrows, she gave his hand a squeeze. “Sorry. Nervous about the awards.”
“Whatever you win, enjoy it. And since this is my last time I get to tell you anything as your team director, that’s an order.” He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, it was as if a shadow crossed between them.
Hopelessness welled up inside of her. They’d come too far together to have things end like this. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words were drowned out by a round of applause.
A hand lifted her by the elbow. Brad was guiding her to her feet. “Congratulations, Driver of the Year.” He wrapped his arms around Gabrielle in a tight hug.
In a daze, Gabrielle wound her way to the podium and accepted the award from the president of Open Wheel Racing. She gazed at the gorgeous work of art until her eyes settled on the four words inscribed in the center.
Driver of the Year
“Wow.” She turned toward the crowd. “Are you sure you got the right person?”
The room erupted in laughter. From her spot behind the podium, she surveyed the crowd. She was greeted with smiles at every table but one, and that made her laugh.
“When I came back to the States to race, I had no idea how things would turn out. I guess they turned out pretty good, huh?” There was more laughter. She went on to thank the series, her sponsors, her teammates, and her competitors. She even put in a plug for Racer Girlz with a plea for more opportunities for women to compete in motorsports.
“In closing, I would like to thank my team owner, Barbara Sawyer, who gave me the wonderful opportunity to race on home soil again. And last, but not least, there are no words for me to adequately express my gratitude to my team director, Brad Thomas.”
She made eye contact with him. “You’ve been my guide, the voice in my ear, and most of all, you’ve been my friend. You’ve given me the most precious gift possible, the power to see and believe in what’s possible. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
A lump in her throat made it impossible to say more, so she blew him a kiss, forced out a thank you, and returned to her seat on unsteady legs.
Brad caught her in his arms as she almost collapsed into her chair. He held her close to him as someone offered her a tissue.
“Did you know about this?” Even through her tear-induced blurry vision, Brad’s sparkling eyes were breathtaking.
“Nope. But I can’t say I’m surprised. You were the best driver out there. I saw it. It’s gratifying to know everyone else who matters saw it, too.”
The rest of the awards ceremony flew by as Gabrielle alternated her attention between the gorgeous award in front of her and the equally gorgeous man next to her. When at last it was time to go, Brad escorted her toward a group of reporters.
“Gentlemen, I present to you the Continental Series Driver of the Year, Gabrielle Marquez. You better ask your questions now, because the next time you see her, she’ll be behind the wheel of an A-1 car.”
The group chuckled before the questions started coming at her. Gabrielle kept smiling as she answered, but she couldn’t deny the deflated sensation inside of her when she thought of Brad’s comment.
Was it really the end of the line for them?
Chapter Twenty-One
“And scene.” Bridget ran a tape roller down the seam of a brown moving box and cut the tape with a flourish. “For only living here six months, you sure accumulated a lot of stuff.”
Gabrielle scrawled the word bedroom across the side of the box with a red marker. “For starters, I wouldn’t have so much stuff if you hadn’t made me go shopping with you practically every week. On top of that, it’s not my fault I accumulated so much swag. I was driver of the year, in case you haven’t heard.”
Bridget threw the tape roller at her. “Only every day from my precious daughter.”
“Then my work here with Amy is done.” She dropped onto the bed. “Oh, man, it really is done, isn’t it?”
“I think so. If you want, I can . . . ” With furrowed eyebrows, Bridget sat next to her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything.” Gabrielle went to the bookshelf where the sketch Brad had given her was still displayed. She ran her finger along the frame’s edge. The work was so beautiful it hurt her to look at it.
“I didn’t expect leaving would be so hard. I mean, the Jensen deal’s a no-brainer, right? I did what I came to do and even managed to part on good terms with everybody.” She shrugged. “Well, almost everybody.”
“Who didn’t you part on good terms with?”
“Chas.” Gabrielle turned around to find Bridget’s jaw almost on the floor. The levity broke the tension hanging over her.
“Oh. Well, that’s okay. I hate that jerk. I was afraid it was going to be Brad.”
“No. He’s been great.” A little too great, if she was honest with herself. Ever since the evening at the pond, Brad had gone out of his way to tell everybody how awesome she was g
oing to do on the A-1 Circuit, how she was a prime example of the rewards of never giving up, and how, thanks to her, there were going to be Racer Girlz all over the world.
“Have you guys, you know, talked?”
“Yeah, we have.” She told Bridget what he said while they were on the dock and about his behavior ever since.
“Man, I’m kind of proud of him. You’ve definitely changed him. Great work.”
“I don’t know about that.” She rolled her eyes. “At times, I wish he would have been a jerk face. It would make leaving a lot easier.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not saying you want to stay here, are you?”
“No, I—”
Bridget grabbed her by the arms. “You have the chance to do something no woman’s done in years. This is a dream opportunity. Don’t let it slip through your fingers. He may never come home. I mean, it may never come around again.” Bridget bit her lip and looked away.
Gabrielle wrapped Bridget in her arms. They’d often talked about the challenges Bridget faced as a single parent of a daredevil-in-the-making daughter. Whenever the conversation veered too close to Bridget’s challenges with life as a widow, the subject invariably changed. Guilt at not getting her friend to open up more about her personal troubles gnawed at Gabrielle.
“I’m sorry.”
“I miss him. Every second of every day I miss him so bad. Spending my life with Paul was my dream. As long as I’ve known you, racing at the top level of the sport has been your dream.”
“But what about . . . ” As much as she wanted to, Gabrielle couldn’t bring herself to utter his name.
“My brother? He’s a good guy, and I love him, but if he’s going to let you get on a plane without putting up a fight, then you’re better off without him, because you, my friend, are totally worth fighting for.”
Bridget got up. “It’s like you said. Mission accomplished. I need to check on Amy. She’s supposed to be helping Patrick with your cake. See you tomorrow.”
With only the ceiling fan’s hum to keep her company, Gabrielle went to the window. A tent was being erected in the front lawn. She’d traveled enough that she wasn’t a fan of big good-byes. Part of that was because saying good-bye meant taking the next step in her career. A lifestyle that led her father to call her a “gypsy in a racing suit” worked for her.
Besides, with all of the modern world’s technological wonders, she could communicate with anybody, even face to face, in an instant. Good-byes simply weren’t that big of a deal.
Usually.
Like everything else in her life in recent months, saying good-bye to Gale Force Racing, and the Thomas family, and especially Brad, was going to be far from usual.
Even with all of his issues, Brad had treated her with respect on the job and like a queen off the job. He’d reignited all of her old passions for him without even trying and, in the process, allowed her access to a part of him that had been closed to everyone for far too long.
He’d allowed her to help him, which, in turn, had helped her. The self-doubt that used to lurk in the dark corners of her emotions had been kicked to the curb, along with the post-race stress-induced vomiting. She still had a lot to learn, but she was a good driver. The security that came with such knowledge brought a touch of regret with it, though.
She’d helped nurture Gale Force Racing from a virtual newborn to a fully fledged machine that was getting bigger and better every day. The team was on the threshold of greatness and, while she was proud of her contribution, she was sad that she wouldn’t be there to see it take the next step to the International Series.
Outside, the workers shuttled back and forth between the tent and the truck as they set up tables and chairs. Tomorrow she would laugh, she would cry, she would share hugs and stories. She’d make the best of the day and ensure when it came time to say good-bye, she did it without any regrets. At least that was the plan.
• • •
The siren-like wailing of the clock startled Brad out of bed. It was six o’clock. Plenty of time to make his getaway. It was spineless, taking off to avoid Gabrielle’s party, but attending would be like having his heart ripped right out of his chest.
He’d hate himself for the rest of his days, but he’d gotten used to that. When he told Gabrielle she deserved better than him, he’d meant it. Her future was so bright it was blinding, and she didn’t need to be tied to someone halfway across the globe.
With no place he had to be, he decided to spend the day turtle shopping. It seemed like the perfect plan since, after today, he was going to be in desperate need of a friend.
On the way to his car, Brad took a blow to his right side in the form of a hug from his niece.
“Hi, Uncle Brad. Are you coming to help us set up? We’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we?” Amy pulled him toward Bridget’s car. “We’ve got lots of stuff in the car. Come on. You can help us.”
Bridget handed him a box stuffed with paper party supplies. “Surprised to see you up so early.” She narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t trying to sneak out on us, were you?”
“Of course not. Why would you even ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because,” she snatched the keys dangling from his pocket, “of these.”
“Oh.” His cheeks started burning. “Um, so where do you want this stuff?”
“In a corner of the tent. When Greg gets here, I want the two of you to set up the tables and chairs like this.” She handed him a piece of paper with a layout of where she wanted the furniture. “Now go.”
The next few hours flew by in a whirlwind, as Bridget played orchestra conductor and Brad played heavy-lifting flunky. There was no sign of Gabrielle. When Brad asked about her, Bridget told him that, as the honored guest, she would arrive when the guests arrived.
Then she told him to take a shower and put on a nice shirt.
Between the team, family, and friends, there were over a hundred guests, so Bridget assigned Brad to the bar. When he grumbled about not being able to socialize, she told him that was what he got for trying to sneak out.
He was filling a cooler when there was a knock on the bar table. After straightening up, he almost fell over when he came face to face with his customer.
“Dude, what are you doing here?” He gave Rafael a hug. He’d gotten reacquainted with Gabrielle’s brother in the run up to the family’s surprise race visit and liked him. The man had a natural calming influence on people. The world needed more people like Rafael.
“Flew in this morning. I got a rental, and G and I are going to drive her stuff back home.”
While Brad poured him a ginger ale, Rafael cleared his throat. “Gotta admit I’m bummed that, after all these years, you guys managed to get together and now you’re going your separate ways already.”
“Yeah. I hate to see her go, but I don’t want to stand in her way.” It hurt worse than being poked with a cattle prod to utter the words, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Maybe someday, he’d come to believe it, too.
“Between the two of us, I know how she’s felt about you all these years. I think it’s safe to say she wouldn’t see you asking her to stay as standing in her way.”
Brad sighed. Getting caught up in yet another discussion about asking Gabrielle to stay was turning into a real-life version of the Groundhog Day movie.
“My team owner, Barbara, the blond woman over there.” Brad pointed to where Barbara was chatting with his mom. “She and I ran the numbers three times. No matter what we tried, we can’t even begin to come within a hundred miles of the Jensen offer. I couldn’t bring myself to give Gabrielle a counter. It would have been insulting.”
“Money’s not everything, you know.” Rafael took a drink. “Do you know whether or not she’s signed a contract yet?”
“I don’t know. I’ve, uh . . . ” He looked at the table top. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
“I know for certain she hasn’t, and, until she does, it’s no
t over.” He knocked on the table three times then wandered off while Brad poured a glass of wine for one of Bridget’s friends.
As the afternoon went on, Brad couldn’t get Rafael’s parting words out of his mind.
It’s not over.
Rafael wasn’t the type to raise false hope. So, if it wasn’t over, what did Brad have to do to get Gabrielle to change her mind? His musings were interrupted when the woman in question walked up to his table.
“What does a lonely girl need to do to get a drink around here, bartender?” She smiled, and, in that instant, the rest of the world went away.
With her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the tiny stones in her checkered flag earrings glittered in the light. It lifted Brad’s heart to see her in such a good place. When she’d first started working with the team, a haunted look showed up in her eyes from time to time. That look had been gone for months now.
There was something in her eyes that didn’t go with her cheerful tone, though. Stress or anxiety, maybe? Understandable, given what she had coming up. It was wishful thinking to dream it was due to leaving him behind.
“Judging from this crowd, you’re not looking very lonely to me.” He poured her a glass of white wine. “To Gabrielle Marquez, future A-1 driver of the year.”
She clinked her wineglass to his cup of iced coffee. “No pressure there.”
“I choose to think of it as a vote of confidence. You’re going to do great there.”
She rolled her eyes. Those bewitching, ice-blue eyes. “What if I’d rather do great here?”
Brad shook his head. He couldn’t have heard Gabrielle’s comment correctly. “What do you—”
“Gabrielle.” Amy was at her side. “Mom says it’s time to eat, and since you’re the guest of honor, you need to go first.” She pulled on Gabrielle’s hand. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Amy led her toward the buffet on the other side of the tent, where Patrick was removing lids from stainless-steel serving trays.
With a defeated sigh, Brad topped off his drink and joined the serving line. He could mope about his question being left unanswered later. Right now, it was time to play the role of happy ex-boyfriend-to-be.