Page 69 of Retrograde
‘Oh, sorry. I got so distracted! Come, sit down.’ He led them to a table in the back corner. ‘Here are your menus! Can I get you anything to drink? Some wine, perhaps?’
‘Just some water, please.’ Brett smiled up at him while Lucie shifted nervously, afraid he would somehow forget his problems and order the most expensive wine on offer, as he usually did when they went out to dinner.
Already deciding on what she wanted to eat, Lucie looked around. There was nobody else there, which she would typically take as a bad sign. But then she looked back at the menu and noticed the complete lack of pricing. Ah. That was why Brett had come here. Most people could only afford to eat in a place like this if they sold their organs on the black market.
She had always been intimidated by the way Brett spent money like it grew on trees. She wasn’t struggling, and she was lucky enough to be in a position where shecould hop on a flight to just about anywhere at the drop of a hat, but almostallher money went on travel and accommodation in between races, and she didn’t like to splash out.
Lucie often wondered where she would be if she hadn’t got so close with Julien, Marco and Brett over the years. Would she have still had friends to travel with? To share her family with? Maybe she’d have gone home to Los Angeles more often. Maybe she’d have had a vibrant dating life, not turned down the offers she’d had throughout her twenties. She knew some of the drivers and mechanics she’d worked alongside for years were put off flirting with her because they’d seen the way she and Brett acted around one another. There was a running joke that they were soulmates. And they were. But Lucie was starting to think she should branch out.
‘Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if we weren’t us? If we hadn’t joined the motorsport industry?’ Brett pondered, looking around eagerly for his food. It had only been five minutes since they’d ordered.
‘What do you mean?’ she frowned.
‘Like, what do you think we’d be doing with ourselves?’
‘Hmm. I’ve never really thought about it because we started out so young. I probably would’ve ended up reluctantly going to college a year late, after faffing about for a while. Maybe I’d have studied marketing or something.’
‘And then you’d have got bored, quit, and gone backpacking,’ he added.
She smiled, knowing that was exactly what shewould’ve done. She had never wanted to stay in the US when she was a teenager. It was why she’d risked it all and taken the job with the catering company. She couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck in the LA bubble, and although the motorsport bubble often mixed with the same people, at least it was more exciting, and at least it felt like she was welcome in it. ‘What would you have done?’
‘That’s what scares me, Sunny. I have no idea. There were never any other options for me, it was racing or nothing. It was my goal from such a young age, I never considered a different path. Not even for a second.’ He let out a shaky breath. ‘It’s why I need to get back behind that wheel. I can’t fuck up again. I won’t. Everything I know, everything I am and everything I love is at stake. If I have to lock myself in a room in between races to avoid temptation, that’s what I’ll do.’ He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t telling Lucie; he was telling himself. Reassuring himself. But for the first time, Lucie felt genuinely confident in his words.
‘Hey, you’re doing good. You’ve come a long way in a short space of time.’ She reached across the table to squeeze his hand.
‘Thanks to you essentially kidnapping me and holding me hostage in Capannori, yeah.’
‘No, you’re the one having therapy and doing the work. I know it’s taking a lot out of you, but you’re deep into the healing process now, Anderson. That’s not to say you won’t struggle sometimes in the future, but it takes a lot to get to the stage you’re at.’
‘Thanks, Sunny. It’s a comfort knowing you’ve got my back, even after the way I’ve hurt you.’ He squeezed her hand back in response.
‘That was the alcohol talking, not you. I know you didn’t mean it.’
‘Add that to the never-ending list of reasons I should never drink again. Dad always told me I had a big personality. He said my aura could fill a room. I don’t think I need alcohol to help me be myself, do you? In fact, it would appear it does the opposite.’
As Ilyas appeared with two mouth-watering bowls of Pasta ai Quattro Formaggi, Lucie smiled warmly at the man sitting in front of her. He looked proud of himself for the first time since Revolution Racing had won the championship last season. ‘Sounds like Jack was a wise man.’
‘Sunny, why did you let me eat so much?’ Brett pouted as they entered their third art gallery. The first two had been a bust, but Lucie had been distracted by Brett whinging about being on the verge of a food coma. Between that and him keeping his hand a little too low on her back for her dignity, she’d had a hard time focusing on the task at hand.
She needed a piece of art that was minimal but brightly coloured, and would look good in a black frame. Everything they’d seen so far had been busy, cluttered or muted. Too many landscapes of the Italian countryside. Which made sense for where the farm was located but didn’t make sense for her parents’ tastes.
‘You shouldn’t have had the tiramisu. I told you there’s plenty at home.’
‘Yeah, and I paid all that money, and it wasn’t a patch on Mama C’s.’
‘Eyes too big for your stomach, Anderson.’
Lucie came to a stop as they came across a painting. It was an abstract piece, blue hues. It looked like the ocean. It was the opposite of what she was looking for, but it was the right size and shape. More importantly, it reminded her of California. Of summers spent with her siblings at the beach, family volleyball tournaments, working as a lifeguard, sunset picnics on the clifftops. The drive to Monterey, where their family friends had a vacation home. It was perfect, and she was mesmerised.
‘Hey, Sunny. They’ve got an orange version, too.’ Brett pointed across the room. ‘That would look great in your parents’ room,’ he noted, and her heart leapt. Just like the blue one reminded her of California, the orange one reminded her of her dad’s favourite summer trip. Camping in Virginia, when Lucie had fallen in the river. The painting looked like a campfire, captured with sweeping brush strokes and specks of gold paint.
She checked the price of both. ‘Not a chance. This one alone is really pushing the budget.’
Brett picked the painting up and shooed her to the other side of the room, stopping in front of the orange one. ‘I’m buying them both.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Yes, I am,’ he argued.
