Revved (24 page)

We’re in a bar called Pattaya, which overlooks the harbor. It’s really pretty here. We’re sitting outside, and I’m sipping on a glass of local beer, chatting with Ben. Petra’s not arrived in Monaco yet. Her brother’s wife went into early labor yesterday, six weeks early, so she delayed her flight. She wanted to stay and make sure everything was okay with the baby. Fortunately, it was, and now, Petra is the proud auntie of a baby boy yet to be named.

She could only get on an evening flight in, so she’ll be arriving later on. I can’t wait until she gets here. Even though the guys are great, to be honest, I’m missing her company.

“Carrick just texted, asking where we are,” Ben informs me. His eyes are down on his phone as he types out a text, presumably back to Carrick.

“He’s here?” My voice comes out sounding a little strangled. I cover it with a cough.

“Yeah, he’s coming to meet us.” He puts his phone down on the table.

Panic slides a hand around my throat and squeezes tight. I take a few calming sips of my beer.

I can do this. It’s going to be fine.

Needing a moment, I excuse myself to the restroom. When I get back, Carrick still hasn’t arrived.

My nerves are on edge. I can’t sit still in my chair. I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin, and my head is rotating every few minutes, looking for a sign of him. I just need to see him, so I know how things stand between us.

It’s been a long while since Ben texted him back, and I’m starting to think that maybe Carrick’s not coming after all. But then I hear Robbie start catcalling, and the rest of them join in, so I know Carrick has arrived.

My stomach and head fill with butterflies, making me feel a little dizzy.

Be breezy, Andi. Breezy…

Trying to act nonchalant, I cast a glance back over my shoulder to Carrick.

And I feel like I’ve just been smacked in the face with a brick.

He’s walking toward us with a girl attached to his arm. A really pretty and tall—probably about my height—model-looking girl with long brown hair.

Those butterflies I was feeling turn to dust, and I’m just left empty.

I can’t believe that he’s picked up some random and brought her with him.

Of course he has. This is Carrick.

Deep breaths. It doesn’t matter.

It’s none of my business what he does and who he does it with. All I care about is getting my friendship with him back on track.

Right?

Pressing my lips together, I turn back to the table. I grab my phone off it and stare down at it, like I’m reading something really interesting.

“Hey,” Carrick says from behind me.

Not hearing his voice, that Irish twang of his, for nearly two weeks has it shivering through me.

I clamp down the feeling, pushing it away.

Assuming he’s talking to the whole table and not directly to me, I don’t turn around, but I do mutter a vague-sounding, “Hello.”

Some of the guys get up to greet him, doing that manly handshake thing, Ben being one of them.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Ben says.

“Nah. Don’t worry. I’ll get them. What are you drinking?”

“Beer,” Ben tells him.

“Get me a cosmo, will you, baby?” the girl says.

Baby?

She has a really nice English accent, sweet and posh. Not like my fucked-up English mixed with Brazilian accent.

“Sure thing, babe.”

Babe?

The memory of being in bed with Carrick, his body wrapped around mine, his sleepy voice murmuring in my ear, “Night, babe,” slams into me painfully.

Their terms of endearment seem awfully forward for two people who just met.

Or maybe they didn’t just meet.

The thought makes my empty feeling quickly turn to a sick feeling. A really sick feeling.

“Let me get you a chair,” Ben says.

I’m assuming he’s speaking to the girl.

He drags over a chair, putting it next to me.

Thanks, Ben.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her sit in the chair with the grace of a gazelle. She’s wearing a short skirt, which rides up, revealing more of her long tanned legs.

I look down at my own legs, thanking my mother for passing on her good genes to me and thanking my good sense for at least wearing jean shorts to show them off—not that it’s a competition in any way. And in no way do I look anywhere near as nice as she does. She’s dressed up for a night out, completing that short skirt with heels and a halter top. All notably designer compared to my high street jean shorts, flip-flops, and red T-shirt, which has the word
Geek
emblazoned across the chest.

God, I am a geek.

Actually, the only things I have going for me right now are my legs and my hair. I’m wearing it down, and it looks pretty.

Since when did I start caring how I look or comparing myself to other women?

Since Carrick.

“What’s everyone else drinking?” Carrick asks.

A multitude of drink orders are shouted at him, mostly beer.

“I’ll give you a hand at the bar,” Ben offers, laughing.

I feel a hand—
his
hand—on my shoulder, and I freeze.

“What about you?” Carrick asks, his voice low.

Tipping my head back, I glance up at him, making sure to keep my expression blank. “What about me?”

Something flickers through his eyes, but it’s gone before I can get a read on what it was.

“Drink—can I get you one?”

“No. I’m good. Thanks.” I point at my beer on the table.

He stares at me for a beat. “All right then.” He gives me a sharp nod and walks away.

Without control, my eyes follow him inside the bar.

Berating myself for staring, I do a quick glance of the table to make sure no one saw me watching him. Then, I relax in my seat. Well, relax as best as I can with Carrick and his girl here.

I can feel the presence of her sitting beside me like a thorn in my side.

I know I’m flat-out ignoring her, and my mother didn’t raise me to treat other women this way.

She always says, “As women, if we can’t respect one another, then how can we expect men to respect us?”

Treat someone how you want to be treated, Andi.

Being in the modeling industry, my mother encountered a lot of bitchy women, and it taught her not to be the same, and that’s what she taught me.

But right now, I am acting like one of those bitchy women, and I don’t like myself for it.

So, even though talking to Carrick’s girl is the last thing I feel like doing, I force the politeness in me, push my phone into my pocket, and turn to her.

Seeing how pretty she is up close makes me feel even worse.

Suck it up, Andi. She hasn’t done anything to you, and she doesn’t deserve for you to be a bitch to her. Your issue is with Carrick, not her.

“Hi,” I say, smiling.

Turning her head, she gives me a blank look. “Er, hello.” Then, she turns away and gets her phone out of her bag.

Okay…that was a little odd. Maybe she’s just shy.

I scramble around my head for something else to say. “So, are you on holiday in Monaco or just here for the race?”

She pulls her eyes from her phone to look at me again. She gives me a stare that can only be described as stupid—as in, she thinks I’m stupid. “Um, both.”

Ignoring the stupid stare, I smile again and say, “Cool. So, when did you get in?”

She sighs loudly, giving me the impression that I’m annoying her. “This afternoon with Carr.”

She came in from the UK with Carrick?

I feel like I’ve just had a defibrillator to the chest. I actually jolt in my seat, and my breath whooshes out of me, right along with these words, “You came with Carrick? From the UK? On the plane? Together?” I know I sound a little odd, but I don’t care.

“Didn’t I just say that?” She gives me a sharp look. “Of course I came with Carr. I am his girlfriend. And he practically begged me to come, couldn’t bear to be away from me. So, I said, ‘What the hell?’ I have a few days off work, so why not?” She lifts her hand and starts to examine her nails.

His girlfriend?
I feel like I’ve just been punched in the face.

How long has she been his girlfriend? I didn’t know Carrick did girlfriends. Was she his girlfriend when he had sex with me?

Something strange, solid, and cold settles in my stomach.

I pick up my beer and take large gulps just for the need to do something aside from vomit or maybe scream.

I’ve just finished swallowing when I hear the rattling sound of disgust come from my neighbor.

“Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

I drag my eyes to hers. I see that she’s staring at my beer like I just drank rat poison.

“Beer?”

“Yes, it’s so…disgusting. Just having it near me makes me want to be sick.” She wrinkles up her nose.

And I have the sudden urge to punch it.

So much for me respecting other women.

I’ve just lowered my glass to the table, when she says, “So, who are you anyway? I mean, why are you here? Are you someone’s girlfriend or something?” She wafts a hand at my friends around the table.

“No!” I let out a little laugh, shaking my head. “I work for Rybell.” I can tell from her expression that she has no clue what that means, so I clarify, “I work for Carrick.”

That gets her attention because I see her gaze sharpen, and she starts to appraise me in a whole new light. I’m pretty sure, in this moment, if she didn’t before, she now sees me as competition for Carrick’s attention, and that makes her instantly dislike me.

I feel like telling her not to worry. I’m definitely not competition for her. Carrick is barely talking to me, let alone anything else.

I can see she’s about to question me further, but Carrick and Ben return with the drinks, halting all conversation.

“Sienna, here’s yours.” Ben hands her a fancy-looking cocktail.

Sienna—so that’s the girlfriend’s name.

“Thank you,” she says in a sickly sweet voice.

After handing everyone’s drinks out, Carrick pulls up a chair beside Sienna and takes a sip of his beer. Seeing that he’s drinking beer tugs a smile onto my lips, knowing just how much his girlfriend hates it.

Girlfriend.
The word keeps crushing my insides to dust.

As I move my eyes away from him, I see Sienna is staring at me.

She knows I was looking at him.

Feeling uncomfortable, I say the first thing that pops into my head, “So, what do you do for a living, Sienna?”

She gives me a confused look. “I’m in The Diamond Babes.”

The Diamond Babes?

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that is.” I give an awkward smile.

I hear a covered laugh, and I’m pretty sure it comes from Carrick, but it’s hard to be sure as I can only see the back of his head because he’s faced away, talking to Robbie.

Sienna makes a sound of total disgust, her face screwing up. “You don’t know who we are? How is that even possible?”

I’m kind of feeling stupid right now, like I should know who these Diamond Babes are.

“The Diamond Babes are a girl band from the UK,” Ben kindly informs me. “They’re quite popular.”

“We’re not ‘quite’ popular.” She air quotes.

I really hate air quotes.

“We’re the biggest girl band in the UK,” she corrects him very loudly.

“Right…” Ben utters before sipping on his drink.

I give an awkward smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t know who you—the band are. I only recently moved back to the UK. I’ve lived in Brazil for the last fourteen years. And I’m not very up on your kind of music.”

“
My
kind of music?” She lifts a perfectly plucked brow. “I’m assuming you mean the good kind.”

“Yeah, something like that,” I mutter before picking up my beer and taking a drink.

I hear another catch of laughter, and from the tell of Carrick’s shaking shoulders, I definitely know it’s coming from him. Sienna seems oblivious to the fact. And I know it’s wrong, but I like that I can still make him smile even if it was through a dig at his girlfriend.

But then, I just feel mean. So, I say, “I’ll have to check your music out. I’m sure it’s great.” When I actually mean, I’d rather poke my eyes out with needles than listen to your music.

The compliment works, and her face relaxes. “You said you work for Carrick. What exactly is it that you do? Are you, like, his maid or something?”

Maid?
Do we live in the nineteenth century?

Ben splutters out a laugh from beside me. I have to hold back a shock of laughter myself.

I expect Carrick to laugh, too, but surprisingly, he doesn’t.

“No, I bloody well am not his maid!” I exclaim, injecting humor into my voice.

Carrick turns his face in my direction, and he catches my eye. He’s looking at me liked he used to—like I’m his friend, like I matter—and it hurts like a mother because I know he no longer feels that way.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I force my eyes back to Sienna. “I’m a mechanic,” I tell her.

“You’re a mechanic?” She screws her face up with what can only be described as total disgust.

Seriously, you’d think I’d just told her I was a serial killer. That, or I wipe Carrick’s arse for a living.

“But isn’t that a man’s job?”

“Depends on who you’re asking.”

“Hmm…well, yes, I suppose…looking at you now, I can see that you are well suited to men’s work.” Her eyes give me the up and down. “You have the right build and a very”—she waves a hand at me—“masculine vibe about you.”

Masculine vibe? The right build? What the fuck? I’m the same size as her!

Seriously, who is this chick?

I couldn’t care less if she is in the UK’s biggest pop band. She’s mean. She might be pretty on the outside, but she’s plain ugly on the inside, and I’m getting that from just spending less than ten minutes with her.

I’ve met mean girls before, but she is a bitch through and through. I have never met someone so confrontational in all my life.

My body tenses, my hands balling into fists, and I’m just about to open my mouth and let the pop princess know exactly what I think of her when Ben slings his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him.