Page 88 of Overtake
The podium call comes then, sparing me from strangling my teammate. The chanting hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s grown louder and more insistent. Pink streaks and rabbit ears fill the stands below. I collect my trophy and Asuka collects one for our team.
“Kiss her! Kiss him!” echoes off the grandstands. Good God, they’re merciless.
Reece takes his second-place hardware with characteristic grace, grinning at the crowd’s demands. Then Nico takes his third place statue. The electricity between us is impossible to ignore, even as the British national anthem plays. When it ends and Bizet’sCarmenbegins, Reece and Asuka pop their champagne bottles.
“Kiss her! Kiss him!”
Well then.
Might as well give the fans what they want.
I grab Nico’s collar, loving the flash of heat in his eyes before our lips meet. The kiss is anything but proper. Reece and Asuka’s champagne shower just adds to the perfect chaos.
The crowd loses its ever-loving mind.
It’s nineteen hundred hours and I’m exhausted after battling my bitch of a car for two hours, but the special fan meet-and-greet awaits. I promised the Honey Bunnies access and enthusiasm, and that’s what I’ll give them, even if it kills me.
The hotel’s courtyard has been transformed into something between organized chaos and celebration. Claudia’s set up a large open tent. It’s a proper mini fan zone with barriers, photo stations, food and drinks, and enough space for the crowd that’s been gathering since word spread about the appreciation event. The Honey Bunnies pack the cordoned area, all decked out with rabbit ears, pink hair, and custom shirts.
Camera crews are positioned at strategic points around the perimeter. Dixon Atteberry’s coordinating with a small team near the hotel entrance, his GEM credentials visible as he directs what’s probably additional content for Graham’s media empire.
Annoyed, I turn to Claudia. “I said I didn’t want media included.”
She follows my gaze to Dixon’s crew, then back to me with an expression I know means she’s going to say something I won’t like. “The courtyard’s technically public space, Petra. Hotel management can’t restrict accredited media from the perimeter areas.” She shakes her head. “We negotiated the barriers and controlled access, but we can’t eliminate coverage entirely.”
I drop my head back and stare at the white awning overhead. “Fucking. Fine.” I look at her. “If they so much at put a toe across the barriers, I’ll cut them off at their ankles. Clear?”
“Crystal. I’ll reinforce it with security.”
“Do that.”
“Smile, Petra. The media don’t matter here, right?” Claudia’s unfazed by my bitchiness. She’s seen plenty of it before, and she knows I’m more tired than usual after that race. “Five minutes to get you positioned, then we open the barriers. The mechanics wanted me to tell you specifically that seeing the fan support during the overnight repairs meant everything to them.”
I nod. “They’re the heroes tonight.” I adjust my attitude and the fresh team shirt I’ve changed into. These fans deserve my gratitude and my smile. “How long do we have?”
“Forty minutes for you, then Nico takes over when he arrives.” She glances up from her scheduling. “Victoria’s coordinated with WolfBett. Marcus sees the PR value in this situation.”
“Hmm, situation.”
She laughs with me. I mean, what else is there to do?
But the courtyard contains more than just fans. There’s a sponsors’ area where Juanma Montero and Sofia Bautista from FuegoFrío are giving away pink and gold stadium cups that I swear must’ve been rush printed this afternoon. Clearly they’re here to see if this viral moment translates to marketing dollars.
I catch sight of Gregor Schultz from Velocity Capital Group hovering near the photo booth, and immediately plot a route that keeps maximum distance between us. I raced him in F3, but he bombed out and was a right wanker about it. One less arrogant billionaire’s son to take a seat from a more capable driver.
I nod toward them. “Sponsors showed up.”
“Money follows attention.” Claudia’s pragmatic as always. “Just stick to racing talk if they approach. Ready?”
I look to Rodrigo, who’s shadowing me. “Everything good?”
He nods. “Perimeter’s secure. Someone tried to access the service areas earlier. Hotel security handled it.”
I roll my eyes. “There’s always one, right?”
He nods. “The attendees have been vetted.”
I squeeze his arm. “Thanks, Rigo.”
