Page 48 of Overtake
Combo. Left-right-left. “Besides Singapore?”
“Besides that.”
“The driver’s championship.”
“You’re the first woman to seriously contend for the title.” Cin nods. “Rather camera-worthy moment that.”
“Bitch is positioning herself for the record book.”
“Probably already has the outfits planned.” Cin adjusts my form slightly. “But here’s the thing, Tonka. You know what really drives her mad?”
“What?”
“You don’t need her. Never have.” My cousin’s smile turns fierce. “So show her. Channel all this fury into qualifying. Remind everyone that you’re here because you earned it the hard fucking way.”
“Because I’m a Hayter?” I throw another combination.
“Because you’re better than all the boys.” Cin’s never wavered in her absolute conviction. “You’re faster, sharper, and more determined than all of them, and they know it.”
I nod. “I’m my father’s daughter. Not Kelley Morrison’s prop.”
“Damn fucking right you are.”
The truth of it releases the last of the fury that had knotted up my chest and reveals the calm center I need for racing.
“Now.” Cin checks her watch. “Ten more minutes of hitting this, then we focus on what matters.”
“Racing?”
“Racing.” She grins. “The thing your mother finds so distastefully dirty and loud.”
“Her loss.” I square up to the bag again. “Some of us like getting our hands dirty.”
“You know what else would drive her mental?” Cin braces the bag as I work through combinations. “If you ignore her. No reaction, no drama. Just focus on the car.”
“While she’s trying to arrange mother-daughter interviews?” Another punch, remembering Kelley’s calculated smile. “She’ll escalate.”
“Let her.” Cin catches my rhythm, anticipating the next sequence. “She’s got no power here, Tonka. This is your world, not her social circle. What’s she going to do? Complain to the FIA about your lack of filial devotion?”
I snort. “Can you imagine? ‘Gentlemen, my daughter refuses to acknowledge my carefully orchestrated maternal concern. Surely there are regulations about this?’”
“‘It’s simply not done in proper racing families,’” Cin mimics Kelley’s affected tone. “‘Now, I’ve ordered matching fireproofs and pink Louboutins for our coordinated photoshoot.’”
We’re both laughing now and my tension is bleeding away. Thank fucking God for Jacintha. She always helps mefind perspective, usually through saintly patience and targeted ridicule.
“Right.” She checks the time. “Shower, protein, then the garage and Bowie. Your mother may not understand racing, but I guarantee Nico Belmonte’s not letting family drama affecthispreparation.”
I freeze. “What’s Nico got to do with anything?” The minute I ask that, I know I’ve shown my hand.
Her slow, evil smile confirms it. “Excellent question.”
“We were just...” I haven’t told her about the karting session and the conversation interrupted by Kelley’s text.
“Just what?”
“Talking… about nothing important.”
“Oh, sure.” Cin hands me a towel. “Like this morning’s practice times weren’t important? The ones where you were pushing each other to go faster?”
