#Rev (GearShark #2)

by Cambria Hebert

  Is this why she expertly took control of this meeting? Setting it up in the evening, after traditional business hours and in Gamble’s personal home? Was she trying to show Trent and me there was a whole other side to Gamble people rarely saw? Was it her way of telling me without saying the words that he just might understand more than I thought?

  Trent went across the room before me and held his hand out directly to Gamble. “Thanks for meeting with us.”

  Gamble shifted the glass into one hand and offered the other to T.

  “A meeting is overdue,” he said. “Joey, pour the men a drink.”

  “Women’s rights,” she reminded him, sipping out of her own.

  “Hospitality,” he rebutted.

  “Yes, sir.” She moaned and set aside her glass to pour two neat glasses of scotch.

  I sidled up to her and leaned close to her ear. “That’s a good girl.”

  “Screw you,” she said fondly and shoved the glass at me.

  I chuckled and sipped at the dark liquid. It was smooth all the way down.

  “Have a seat.” Gamble gestured to the seating options around the fireplace. There were several leather club chairs, a couch, and a few other options of chairs with wooden frames.

  I sat in one of the club chairs, and Joey sat on the couch. Trent sat nearby in another of the leather chairs, while Gamble took up one of the wooden-framed ones.

  Frankly, I wondered if it made his ass sore. Looked uncomfortable as hell.

  “As I said…” Gamble went on. “I’m glad you called. I wanted to give you an update on the new division and give you a schedule of some of the preliminary races. Also, a few endorsement deals have come in, so you’ll need to look those over, Drew, and see if any of them are a good fit.”

  “You can send that stuff to me,” Trent said.

  Gamble nodded. “Once you decide, I’ll have my legal team make sure the deals are solid. Also, because the preliminaries are being scheduled, we need to get some kind of driving schedule down so you’ll be ready. We also need to talk about the car you’re going to be driving and assembling a pit crew to travel with you.”

  “I need a pit crew for preliminary races?” I asked. How big were these events going to be?

  “Maybe not as full of a crew as you’ll need once the actual racing season starts, but I’d never send you to qualify without a team to troubleshoot your car.”

  “I want to be on the team,” Trent said.

  Gamble nodded around his scotch. “That’s a given.”

  It was all so real and so goddamn exciting. My racing career was literally blooming in front of my eyes. It was everything I always wanted.

  “And of course, we need to discuss your salary. You’re not going to be able to hold on to your day job much longer. I’m going to need you here to train.”

  No more day job? No more neckties, staring at the clock ‘til five and dragging my ass out of bed so I could get there on time?

  Hells yeah.

  I found myself grinning, like one of those big stupid grins people wore on lame-ass TV commercials, but I couldn’t help it. Life was falling together.

  Or was it?

  My grin vanished with the thought.

  “Before we get into all of that, I need to make sure I’m still the racer you want,” I said.

  The glass in Gamble’s hand lowered toward his lap, and his eyes belayed some surprise. “And why would you think I changed my mind?”

  “You haven’t yet. But you might after I say what I came here to say.” Tension built low in my stomach. It sort of felt like it was chewing up my insides and making them ache. Around the glass, my palm was sweating, and I griped harder because I was worried the drink would literally slip out of my grasp.

  Please don’t let my career slip out of my grasp either.

  The words were right there, lodged in my throat. I wanted to say them. I wanted to boldly tell him I was in love with Trent, but the syllables were sticky, thick, and clung to my esophagus like a bad case of mucus.

  You could hear a pin drop in the few seconds that followed my words. Everyone was waiting with bated breath.

  As I struggled, Trent cleared his throat. “Drew and I are in a relationship.”

  All the air in my lungs whooshed out silently. The pressure in my chest and the thickness in my throat suddenly let go.

  I didn’t even look at Gamble. I was too compelled to look at Trent. He spoke so calmly, so matter-of-fact. He could have been reading a grocery list. I admired that so hard. I loved him for it.

  He glanced at me, and the single connection I felt when our eyes met was all I needed. I wasn’t giving up a life by admitting my relationship.

  I was gaining one.

  Amazement, the kind that made you feel gobsmacked and woozy, gripped me. It wasn’t Gamble’s reaction to Trent’s admission I was even concerned with. I hadn’t even looked at him yet. The first person in this room I sought out was my person. It proved everything I needed to know.

  I was gonna be okay.

  I swung toward Gamble and relaxed back into the leather. “Trent and I aren’t just friends. I’m in love with him.”

  Gamble calmly looked between us. His eyes gave away nothing. His face gave away nothing. He sipped his scotch. Joey fidgeted on the sofa.

  I kept my eyes trained directly on him. I wouldn’t let his silence unnerve me. I wouldn’t let it make me doubt myself.

  There was no doubt.

  Trent was it for me.

  “I see,” Gamble said after a moment. “And how long has this relationship been going on?”

  “Only a few weeks,” I replied. “It’s new, but that doesn’t mean it won’t stick. This isn’t a phase.”

  “You knew about this?” Gamble addressed his daughter.

  She nodded. “It was obvious when I was in town, driving with Drew.”

  “And what do you think about these two?” Gamble asked.

  God, the man had a fucking poker face. It was virtually impossible to know what he was thinking.

  Joey didn’t seem alarmed, though, so I told myself to chill the fuck out.

  “They’re real,” she replied simply. “I like real.”

  He nodded as if he heard what she didn’t say.

  Gamble glanced back at me. “Must have been hard coming here tonight. Now I see why my daughter wanted to have this conversation at home.”

  I nodded. “Look, I know this probably isn’t what you signed on for. You’re a businessman first, and you’re basically building a new racing brand from scratch. I would have disclosed my, uh, relationship to you in the beginning, but it wasn’t as it is now. Having your main driver in a relationship with another man might not be good for business. Maybe you don’t want a gay man as the face of your team. If that’s the case, tell me now. There are plenty of other good drivers that would be willing to take my place.”

  “You would choose him over your career?” he asked, speculation in his tone.

  The question pissed me off. I knew, knew without even looking at Trent it was a kick in his gut. Trent would internalize those words; he would feel like he was taking something from me instead of giving.

  I sat up, holding my body firmly, and stared right into Gamble’s eyes. “I already did.” I yanked my gaze from the older man and looked at Trent. “There’s no choice.”

  T lifted his glass, and I watched the liquid slip past his lips and slide down his throat. He did well keeping his reaction contained, but I felt it. I knew it was what he needed to hear.

  “And how do you feel about keeping your personal life personal?” Gamble asked.

  My back teeth came together. “I like my privacy. Trent and I aren’t the type to go skipping through a forest holding hands and making out on the street. But I won’t deny him. I won’t act like he’s a dirty secret. People will see anyway, just like your daughter did. The pull between us is too strong. That’s why I’m telling you.”

  “The interviewer at GearShark already
saw,” Trent remarked.

  Gamble’s eyes shot open. “She did?”

  Trent nodded. “Seemed to think it would help Drew’s career.”

  “She didn’t print it…” he mused. Then glanced at me. “She respects you.”

  “I threatened her with a lawsuit.” I clarified.

  Gamble chuckled. “My boy, lawsuits are a practical daily occurrence to journalists. They push the envelope. Even if she didn’t print the story, she would have whispered. She would have started rumors. The industry would be abuzz right now, and she’d be collecting off it. But I haven’t heard a single word.”

  “Why don’t you cut to the chase?” Trent said, his voice out of patience. “You want us to leave or not?”

  Gamble laughed. “I always have liked your bluntness.”

  “Well?” Trent replied and stood.

  Could he feel my budding agitation? The frustration welling inside me because Gamble wasn’t really saying anything? Instead, he was just wearing my patience.

  The guy should have been a politician, answering questions without actually giving an answer.

  “Dad,” Joey warned as if she were getting frustrated as well. “Put them out of their misery.”

  Gamble tossed back the rest of the scotch in his glass and stood. He was dressed comfortably in a pair of what I assumed were dark-colored rich people lounge pants. They were too nice-looking to be considered sweatpants. Paired with them, he had on a light-blue polo that looked like it was made out of cashmere.

  Ivy would probably drool all over this guy’s closet.

  “Hopper’s gay,” he announced.

  I felt my mouth literally fall open. Of all the shit he could say, I never thought it would be that.

  “Hopper. Your pro driving coach,” Trent reiterated.

  “The one you called a dick.” Gamble agreed.

  I glanced at Joey, and she nodded.

  “You didn’t think I might like to know that?” I asked.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I knew what my father would say on a personal level, but on a business level? I never have any idea.”

  The sound of light footsteps approached, and a woman with dark hair pinned back poked her head in the room. “Dinner is served.”

  “Thank you, Ellen!” Joey chimed out, fondness in her voice.

  Ellen (who I figured was the housekeeper or cook or something) smiled. “Anything for you Josephine.”

  “Josephine,” Trent echoed.

  Joey whipped around and gave him an evil eye.

  He grinned.

  “Thank you, Ellen. We’ll be right there,” Gamble said, and when she was gone, he set aside his empty glass. “Shall we eat?” He gestured toward the door.

  “I’d like an answer first,” Trent said, stubborn.

  “I’m starving,” Joey said dramatically.

  Gamble faced me, and I felt Trent step up to my back, silently offering support.

  This was it.

  The future of my career.

  “Your relationship with Trent is of no consequence to me. I might be an old man, but even I understand the heart chooses who it wants.”

  “You’re not that old, Dad,” Joey rebuffed.

  “And the racing?” I asked, my heart still squeezing. The lightest touch grazed my lower back. I could feel the heat of it through my shirt. Trent.

  Gamble glanced at Trent. “I’ll be blunt. I agree with the reporter.”

  “What?” I asked, blinking.

  “I think it will help your career.”

  “I’m not exploiting our relationship,” Trent said, his voice firm.

  “No one said anything about that. But you already made it clear you have no intent of being shy about it either. I like it. In a division where the drivers go against all the rules, do what they want, and represent the underdog? Frankly, you being gay makes you a better face for the brand.”

  “For the revolution.” Trent corrected. He brushed his fingertips a little more firmly in a soft caress over my back before pulling away.

  “That is what you called it in your GearShark interview,” Gamble said to me. He shook his head slowly, mulling over possibilities. “A revolution of racing meets a revolution of the way people view athletes.”

  “If you think me announcing I’m with a man is going to make everyone in this world magically accept gay people, there must have been some expensive, exotic shit in that scotch.”

  Gamble laughed.

  “All you need for a revolution is a spark.” Trent’s voice was soft but meaningful. He’d been thinking about this. More than I realized.

  “Are you quoting The Hunger Games?” Joey wondered out loud.

  “The what?” Trent asked.

  “We need to have a movie night,” she muttered.

  “Exactly.” Gamble nodded. “The demographic for this division is young. The young are far more open-minded than most, and not only will this barely register on their radar, but it will give a lot of them something to identify with.”

  “Is the gay population really that large?” I wondered.

  “It doesn’t even have to do with sexual orientation. Not really.” Trent spoke up. “Like Gamble said, the underdogs, those who feel singled out, whether it be because of who they love, how they look, what they do… People everywhere feel different. Here you are, this amazing driver. You earned your way into a meeting with Ron Gamble and convinced him to start a new sport for people who’d been discriminated against for years.”

  People who were discriminated against = indie drivers.

  “You’re breaking down walls. And you’re doing it with speed. And now you’re also admitting—no, we’re admitting to being in a relationship. Frankly, it’s one more thing for people to admire.”

  “And hate.” I reminded him. Not that I thought he needed a reminder. I thought he knew better than I did. He was the one walking around with cracked ribs.

  “Oh, there will be hate.” Gamble agreed and looked at me. “I guess the real question is, are you sure you’re up for this?”

  I never wanted to be a role model. I never wanted to be someone to break down walls or even give a voice to people who felt like they were somehow less.

  But that’s where I found myself.

  I looked at T. The lines and angles of his face were so familiar to me. So strong. He was my best friend and he was my lover. Underneath all that, though, he was a man.

  A man with doubts and feelings. With vulnerabilities and insecurities.

  I was, too.

  We all were.

  It didn’t make me less of a driver—less of an athlete. If anything, it made me better.

  So while, no, this wasn’t where I expected the road to lead me, here I was. I was lucky. Trent and I had each other. We had family and friends rallying around us to support us.

  What about the people who didn’t have anyone? Could I somehow give someone else some kind of hope, even from the cover of a magazine?

  I could. I would. But someone else would do it better.

  I swung around to Trent. “I think you should do it.”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Call the reporter at GearShark. Start the revolution.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “I’ll be there,” I replied, my attention condensed down to only him. “Always.”

  “I like it.” Gamble approved.

  “Beef Wellington tastes better hot,” Joey said.

  Everyone laughed.

  “We’re having beef Wellington?” Trent asked, suddenly more interested in food than anything.

  Beef Wellington was good, but it wasn’t French fries.

  “It’s Joey’s favorite,” Gamble said.

  “So we’re going to do this?” Trent said, setting aside his glass.

  “All you have to do is say the word,” Gamble said. “We can go sit down and talk numbers and details while my daughter eats me out of house and home.”

  “Yes,” I said.
/>   My heart squeezed again, but this time it wasn’t because I was nervous or even scared.

  I was excited.

  Trent

  Ron Gamble was a man who got shit done.

  After one evening in his impressive home, talking business with him, I knew exactly why he was the richest man in the state.

  There weren’t many people like him.

  He was cunning and quick but still had an uncanny eye for detail. It was like his mind processed things twice as fast as most others. The conversation we had over beef Wellington, creamy mashed potatoes with a hint of horseradish, and roasted root vegetables reminded me why I decided to major in finances at Alpha U.

  It was exhilarating.

  Most people thought of finance as stodgy and boring. It was all numbers and spreadsheets. Yeah, obviously, that was part of it, but there was so much more. A person in finance had to be good with people, personable.

  Some might argue charm was a definite bonus to have. Why? Because people needed to feel comfortable with you. Money made the world go round. Some didn’t like it, but it was a fact. So becoming an advisor on something as big as their finances… well, trust was one of the most important components.

  Not only that, but in finance, you learn to not only look at the equation, but at the bigger picture. Numbers are fluid; you can manipulate them to put you on a path to a specific outcome. You must have a clear goal for what you want to achieve, so all the pieces can be laid in place to make a complete picture.

  To me, that was exciting. It wasn’t just crunching numbers. It was building something. It was taking risks for big payoffs.

  Finance was basically just a narrowed-in business degree, a specialty, but a broader sense of business was still required.

  While racing was a sport, and I spent a lot of time beneath a hood lately with Drew and watching him on the track… that wasn’t all there was to it.

  This new division was a business. It took a lot of strategic planning to put it together, to get it going, and to make it work. It was fascinating to me, listening to Gamble talk about how it was all being started.

  For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I needed a break from my major or even my chosen career. I felt challenged and motivated to roll up my sleeves and pitch a few ideas of my own.