Page 19 of My Italian Roommate

“Okay, no problem,” she nods but I wonder if she thinks I’m a madman. I probably sound like one, I know. I just need to win this race so I can put it behind me and focus all of my attention on her. A few laps and a photo op at the after-party and I’ll be free until next season.

The press is here in droves today, and it takes a full security detail to help us move through them. I clutch Mallory’s hand tightly knowing that she has to be uncomfortable.

“How do you deal with this all the time?” she asks breathlessly.

“It isn’t all the time but I guess you just get used to it.”

The press isn’t jovial and light-hearted as usual. I expected some backlash after what happened at the party last night, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. They’re yelling questions about my anger issues and what my intentions are. They want to know what I’m going to do to right the situation. Me? I have to right the situation? How about telling that sex offender to keep his hands off women? I almost whirl around and hit the male reporter with his own mic, but I stop myself because I need to get Mallory to safety.

We make our way to the pit where Tony is pacing the finish off the concrete floor.

“Where have you been? Are you trying to kill me, Mario?”

“What? Is the race over? Did I miss it?” I grin. “No, it hasn’t even started yet, Tony. Calm down, I’m here.”

“Have you been living in a hole? You’re not racing today. I’ve been trying to call you since you left the party. Mario, the racing commissioner disqualified you. Your freak-out last night has been trending on the internet and all over the news.” He turns to Mallory and adds, “And you? They all want to know who you are.”

“Disqualified? Then why are you here?” I’m so caught up in my own head that I completely forget this is a racing team.

“You know why I’m here. Dante Oriagano is racing in your place.”

“I know. Fuck, of course. Well, we’ll stay and cheer him on, then.”

“No, Mario, you won’t.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “You aren’t allowed to be here.”

Mallory is as white as a ghost with tears streaming down her face. I move to her and take her in my arms.

“It’s alright, princess. Don’t cry.”

“It’s not alright. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, Mario,” she cries.

“Hush now, little girl. This will all blow over by the next circuit. It just means that I get to start my vacation a few hours early.”

“But your title. You won’t win your title,” she sobs.

“Well, not because I lost. Just because I didn’t race. I can live with that. Let’s get out of here.”

“What about the press? Do you really want to walk through them again?”

“They’ve all moved to the starting line by now. The exit should be clear.” I turn back to Tony and tell him, “I’m sorry, Tony. I wish you luck today.”

He’s breaking a sweat and shakes his head at me. He knows that Dante winning is a long shot.

“Let’s go, princess. We can get some lunch.” I take Mallory by the arm and lead her out of the pit. I was right about the press. They’ve all forgotten about me for now, anyway, but there’s a man in a red ball cap standing between us and my car. I slow my pace and Mallory notices.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just hold back for a second,” I tell her and approach the man alone. When I’m in talking distance, I say, “The race is inside, man. What are you doing out here?”

He spits on the ground and replies, “Waiting for you so I can tell you that you’re an asshole.”

“Really? Well, you have. Now, I suggest you go away before I’m inclined to respond to your insult.”

“You tried messing up my man Dylan so he couldn’t beat you. Looks like that plan backfired.”

“Get lost, man. Seriously. I don’t want to have to fuck you up.” I bow out my chest and take another step toward him, but he thinks better of it and backs up.

“I’m going. Have a nice day, asshole.” He walks in the direction away from the stadium, which seems odd but at this moment I’m just glad that he didn’t walk toward Mallory.

---