Page 6 of Formula Dreams
Hornsby narrows his eyes, pen poised over his notepad.“So you’re saying it was her mistake?”
“I’m saying,” I reply coolly, “she overestimated her exit speed.You’ll have to ask her why.”
There’s a pause.Someone shifts a camera tripod.Lex’s knee bumps the table lightly, but he doesn’t speak.
“Another question about Francesca Accardi, if you’ll indulge me,” Hornsby says, making it clear he’s going to ask it regardless.“She’s the first woman in Formula International, which is obviously a historic moment for the sport.Do you believe that adds any extra pressure when competing with her?Or more scrutiny in moments like this?”
The question is bait, and I’ve been around too long not to recognize it.
I curl my lips slightly.“She’s not the only one under scrutiny.That’s part of the job for all of us and personally, I welcome it.But if Accardi wants to be treated the same and play with the big boys, she better learn how to handle it.I’m curious if you’re asking her the same question.”
There’s a visible shift in the room.A few pens stop moving.One of the journalists glances up from her laptop with a flick of surprise.
Lex, to his credit, keeps his face neutral, but he’s quick to add a different perspective.“Accardi’s fast.That’s what matters.”
Harley rises from her seat, holding up an apologetic hand.“That’s all the time we have.Thank you, everyone.”
More questions are hurled, all aimed at me.
“What did you mean by that last statement, Ronan?”
“Do you think women can’t handle the pressure as opposed to men?”
“What do you think of Accardi’s P7 position?”
Mics are cut with audible clicks, and I ignore them all as Lex and I push away from the table.
He turns to me with a chastising look.“You could try not kicking the hornet’s nest every time we sit down in front of cameras.”
“What do you care?”I snap, neither wanting nor needing his opinion.
“Because we’re friends,” he says, and then seems to think better of that.“Or at least we were.”
“Werebeing the key word.”I turn away from him, but then glance over my shoulder.“Besides, I didn’t say anything untrue.”
“Didn’t say anything useful either,” he points out.
I cock an eyebrow.“Are you my PR advisor now?”
He stares at me thoughtfully but it’s Harley who breaks the tension.“Ronan… a word.”
Fucking great.I exhale and turn her way, prepared to take the punishment for my attitude when my phone vibrates in my pocket.I pull it out, thumb the screen.
Four missed calls and one text from my dad.Call me.Emergency.
Can this day get any worse?
I quickly weigh the lesser of two evils and decide I’d rather have Harley jump my ass, any day, all day, but the wordemergencyhas my stomach lurching.
I hold up my phone.“I’m sorry… parental emergency.”
I’m not sure if it’s my expression of dread or the disdain in my tone that softens Harley’s face, but she nods.“Come see me after.”
I nod and turn away, ducking out into a side corridor behind the Crown hospitality suite.I roll my shoulders and throw my neck left and then right to pop the tension from my bones before tapping Michael Barnes’s contact.
He answers on the second ring, no greeting.“She’s done it again.”His voice is clipped, like he’s already halfway through the conversation in his mind.“Checked herself out of rehab sometime last night.Drove her car through a garden wall outside of Winchester.Wrecked the front end.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and press the heel of my hand to my forehead.“Was she drunk?”
