Page 70 of Narrow Margins

It’s been six weeks since we formed the team. I have worked out harder than I ever have before and have spent more hours on a bike than I thought possible. Corrie has been, and remains, amazing; he is with me in the gym at six in the morning, he is with me under the floodlights in the dark as I take lap after lap on the bike. Swanson has kept to his word and we have the race bike for next year, something I never thought he would pull off, but money talks and there is a lot of money in this team.

It’s more than that, though, it’s the crew we have put together, the two mechanics from the race day are on the team and so is Pipes. Or, he will be, after the season ends. Nico and Raff have kept away for the most part, Ryan has mentored Corrie and I will be forever grateful to him for that. Troy is the brains behind it all but leaves the running to us.

Today is launch day, and we are back at the race track. For the first four weeks, we kept much of what was going on under wraps but these last two, since the invitations went out, there has been a constant buzz on the forums and social media sites. Sweepstakes are being made as the enthusiasts speculate, all of which has had nothing but a positive vibe about it.

I’m standing in my leathers—the design has been kept quiet but Helena Carmichael has produced some stunning team clothing and merchandise that I think we are all proud to wear. The black and silver looks good with the red logo, my crash helmet design hasn’t changed over the years but it is now set in the same colors as the rest of the decal.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Corrie studies me, taking in my leaner, but still muscled, body. I will never tire of the way he looks at me and, even though we have had nights when we are too tired to do anything but sleep, we are still in each other’s arms all night.

“Yep, I’m good, the bike feels right. Let’s get this party started.” I kiss him quickly and pull my helmet over my head. “See you in a few, baby. Love you.” I drop the visor and let the mechs do their job.

As soon as I’m on the track, I feel good, the nerves I’ve kept hidden from Corrie disappear and, once again, it’s only me and the bike, fusing together to become one. Tension flows from my body like water as I pick up speed. The laps go too quickly for me—I could stay here forever—the cameras catch every moment of me sweeping and sliding, revving and racing around the track until I see the checkered flag.

The first person I see is Corrie, he stands at the back with his arms across his chest, looking every inch the tough warrior he is. He has perfected his position as my manager and, while we are in front of the press and public, he tips his chin in a ‘job well done’ action but still gives me a tiny wink. His hand presses to his chest over his heart and I return the gesture, then the circus arrives, the cameras are everywhere as microphones are shoved in my face. Corrie is next to me in a flash, stopping it all dead.

“Press conference starts in thirty minutes, make your way to the conference room. We will join you shortly.” Corrie turns his back on the departing journalists and gives me a heartbreaking smile. “You looked amazing out there, Griff.”

“Yeah, it felt good. I need a shower before meeting the vultures.” I grimace at the thought of them staring at me again. Looking at Corrie, I know he senses my trepidation.

“Griff, it will be okay, they’re on your side now, not baying for your blood. You did nothing wrong. C’mon, sugar, let’s get it over and done with then I’ll take you home and do dirty things to you.”

“You’re on!” I laugh and head into the changing room at the back. Corrie waits for me, he wants us to walk in together. Quickly washing the sweat from my body, I dress in the team logo T-shirt and jeans, desperate to look the calm, casual, and moody self I always used to be. Giving myself one last check in the mirror, I realize I’m not going to look any different than I did before the shit hit the fan all those months ago.

“Come on. Time’s up.” Corrie calls as I walk through the door. “Let’s go.”

Lined up outside the double swing doors is the rest of the team. Nico and Ryan will walk in first, followed by Corrie and me, with Troy and Samson last in line. Raff is out there doing some promotion photography for the team. When we amble through the doors, the cameras flash and I remember to smile and wave. I feel the eagerness in the room but can’t decide if it’s positive or if they are wolves scrabbling at the door.

Corrie shows his experience and a life in front of the cameras manifests itself as he speaks positively and enthusiastically, introducing the team. I’m last and there are a few cheers, which makes me smile. The cameras click like crazy. Our hands rest comfortably on the table as the first questions come, they start easy and give everyone a chance to speak. But, when it gets to me, my knee judders under the table as the guy speaks my name. Corrie’s hand steadies my nerves when he places it on my knee. Then it’s gone and back on the table.

I have them laughing at my jokey answers and then it happens: the one I’ve been dreading.

“Griff, how do you think it will affect you as the only gay rider on the circuit?”

“I don’t think it will affect me at all, I’m there to do my job and race. I intend to race hard and win. My sexuality has nothing to do with my racing and the two should not be related.” I rehearsed my answer, knowing it would be asked.

“So, it doesn’t bother you that a renowned womanizer is now coming out as a gay man? Is this just a publicity stunt to get your name out there and talked about?” The relentless reporter comes back.

“I don’t consider myself a gay man.” I pause while the whispering starts and the flashes pick up. “I consider myself a man without any other label, the fact that I fell in love is my business. The fact that it happened to be with a man is no one else’s concern. Love is love, after all. Who it is with shouldn’t, and doesn’t, make a difference. It wasn’t something I thought consciously about, I just knew, when I met the person who completed me, I wasn’t going to deny either of us that happiness.”

When the journalist starts to ask another question, Corrie cuts him short.

“There will be no more questions on the subject of Griff’s private life, so, let’s move on.” He points to another journalist and the sensible questions resume.

The trouble maker moves to the back of the room, his phone to his ear. Glancing to the other side of the room, I see Lucas Davenport, our security chief, already on the move to intercept him. After seeing them talk for a few moments, I relax when the guy nods and turns to watch the rest of the interview.

“Thank fuck for that!” I lean against Corrie’s solid body. “That was grueling, I thought they’d never stop.”

“That was the easy bit, sweetheart, you’ve got to go and prove it now.” Corrie plants a kiss on the top of my head as I elbow him in the ribs.

“No way, baby, the racing is no sweat.” I grin and push off from him, only to get my ass slapped as I step away, “That had better be foreplay, baby!”

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