Smokin' & Spinnin' (7 page)

I don’t understand why everyone is so nice except for Ryan. It doesn’t make any sense to me.

I knock firmly on the bus door. A few seconds pass, and no one answers. I knock firmly again and am almost knocked off my feet when Ryan swings the door open. I step back, stunned. Ryan’s expression changes from suspicious to sheer contempt.

“What the hell do you want?”

I roll my eyes. “I need to talk to you for a second.”

“About what?” he snaps.

“I’m really sorry for being late.”

Ryan shakes his head at me with disgust.

“I…I…” I stammer, but before I can complete my sentence, a half-dressed blonde emerges from the bus.

“Ryan,” she whines.

Ryan turns to acknowledge her and says over his shoulder to me, “Go home, Whitney!” as he slams the door in my completely mortified face.

Chapter 7

D
espite tossing and turning throughout the night, I am up and dressed for work by six in the morning. I cannot stop reliving every single embarrassing exchange with Ryan yesterday at the track. I was completely and utterly humiliated in the Nationwide suite. Not to mention the horrifying confrontation on Ryan’s bus with him and the random blonde bachelorette. The more I think about it, the madder I get.
God bless America
!

I arrive at work very early. It is a little before seven when I take a seat at my desk. Even though Ryan scored a top-ten finish at Michigan, I know the shit will hit the fan sometime today. Especially if he dares to show his face in here, it will be hard for me to keep my cool. But Monday is his day off, so maybe he will stay away for both of our sakes.

I plan to tell Jerri about how he treated me.
Or should I?
I second-guess myself. There is nothing she can do about it anyway. I’m a big girl. I need to put my big-girl panties on and deal with it. Or him, I should say…not it. I’m going to suck it up and be better prepared for next week and do my freaking job. He is not going to get to me. I repeat, he is not going to get to me.

I begin organizing myself for the day with a checklist of things that need to be accomplished. I begin to hear other employees mill around the office, and I know it is getting close to eight o’clock. I am grateful that I am already at my desk with my coffee so I don’t have to make small talk this morning. I am not in the mood.

Around 9:00 a.m., Jerri sticks her head in my office. “Good morning,” she says sheepishly. She already knows.

“Hi!” I say in return, as chipper as I can muster.

“That bad, eh?” Jerri raises her eyebrows at me.

I laugh. “How do you know what happened?”

She laughs too. “I have several sources that reported to me last night. Oh, and not to mention the Nationwide exec who burned my ears over Ryan’s behavior at the meet and greet. My ear is still hot from that telephone call!”

“Am I fired?” I ask her warily.

Jerri sighs and shakes her head. “No! Whitney, this is typical behavior for him this season. And I just don’t understand why. But, we have to deal with this, this morning. We are having a meeting at ten to recap the race and work damage control. It looks like it’s becoming our MO on Monday.” She shakes her head again. “Seriously, I want to get Garrett involved, but I don’t want to complain to him either.”

I interject. “We can handle Ryan. So…let’s not get him involved just yet.” I reassure Jerri and myself too.

I laugh thinking about my errant thoughts from earlier. They mirrored Jerri’s exactly but on a different level.

“Don’t worry!” I exclaim. “We got this!”

Jerri smiles warmly at me.

“Will Ryan be at the meeting?” I ask nervously.

“No,” she says. “He doesn’t know about it, so hopefully he won’t randomly show up. I need for us to work together on damage control without his interference.”

I sigh, relieved.
Praise the Lord!

The morning seems to be flying by even though I have this nervous cloud of dread over my head. Shortly before l0:00 a.m., my iPhone sounds off, reminding me of the meeting. I gather “the book”—my agenda—and a few requests from sponsors for next week’s race, then begin to head out the door.

As I walk out the door of my office, an incoming text alert stops me in my tracks. I turn back to my desk to grab my phone. It’s a text message from “the one and only Colton Johnson.” I throw my head back and laugh. So, that is what he was doing with my phone on Sunday. He was programming his number into my contacts. I had completely forgotten about that because I was too preoccupied with my rage for Ryan.

______________

Hope you like?

______________

I am confused. I type back:

_____________

??Like what??

_____________

As soon as I hit send, a slight knock on my door causes me to look up, and a deliveryman enters carrying two obscenely large vases of pale pink roses.
Oh my God!

The look on my face signals the deliveryman to ask me, “Whitney Parker?”

I nod, unable to speak.
Hmmm, maybe?

I quickly sign for the delivery. There is no card, but I already know who they are from. I fire off a text to Colton.

________________________________________________

Like??!! I love! You have made my day! Thank you!

_________________________________________________

Colton responds.

________________________________________

You are very welcome. After what you went
through yesterday, you deserve it.

_________________________________________

I continue our conversation.

_______________________________________________

You don’t know the half. I am going to have to have
a drink tonight to calm my still-shot nerves. lol

_________________________________________________

Colton responds instantly.

_________________________________

Drink? Sounds good. May I join u?

_________________________________

My heart leaps into my chest as I read his words. Holy shit! Is he serious?

Sure. I have a weekly standing appointment with a friend downtown. You are welcome to join us. Colton types:

___________________________

Okay. Text me details later.

___________________________

I can barely type.

_______

Will do.

______

Colton confirms:

_____________________

Looking forward to it.

_____________________

Oh sweet Jesus! I am sweating. How did all this happen in, like, the last five minutes? Oh no! Now I have to break this news to Brooke. She will flip her shit. I switch over to her contact information to text her.

______________________________________

When and where are we drinking tonight?

_______________________________________

Brooke responds quickly.

_________________________________________________

Anywhere. It’s been a day already. Brewery?

__________________________________________________

I confirm:

_________________________

Fine. I can be there by 6.

_________________________

Brooke replies:

_______

Perfect.

________

I type my next message hesitantly.

__________________________________

OK. I will have a plus one tonight.

___________________________________

Brooke questions simply:

___

Who?

____

I try to divert her.

__________________

Friend from office.

___________________

Brooke snaps at me with her text.

__________________________________

Don’t be flip, Whitney. Who?

____________________________________

I respond hastily yet simply.

______________

Colton Johnson.

_______________

I brace myself for Brooke’s response as I stare at my phone in anticipation. As I watch my phone intently, I hear a slight cough of interruption coming from my doorway. Startled by the disruption, I drop my cell phone onto my desk. I look up at Jerri, who is not happy with me. She stares at me with a questionable look as she eyes me, then the embarrassing display of floral arrangements that now adorn my office. Jerri looks back
at me with her eyebrows raised and a confused look on her face. I am not sure if she is unhappy about the flowers or the fact that I am late for the meeting because I am preoccupied with my personal cell phone.

“Whitney! We are waiting on you,” Jerri says as my cell phone starts to ring.
Shit!

“Jerri, I am sorry.”

She turns on her heel and out of my office.

I look down at my phone, which is now vibrating. It is Brooke. She is calling instead of texting. This cannot be good. I hit ignore on my phone, which immediately diverts her call to my voice mail, which will piss her off even more.

I fire off a quick message to her.

____________________________________

Late for meeting. Call you back soon.

____________________________________

I drop the phone back onto my desk and flee my office to catch up with Jerri. I arrive in the boardroom and take a seat by her. It is a few minutes after ten, and no Ryan. I let out a huge sigh of relief as I sink down into a chair at the boardroom table. Thank you, Jesus!

Jerri starts promptly. “OK, we need to get down to business.” She begins to recap the race and the issues at hand. We start with the Nationwide fiasco, and I hear the boardroom door open as Jerri continues to speak. I don’t look back, but I know immediately who it is. My stomach rolls with nausea.

Shit! He is here.

The door slams shut just as Ryan shouts, “That was all Whitney’s fault! Let her clean up the mess!”

Bastard!

I whip my head around to where Ryan is standing. Of course, he looks all smug and arrogant as hell standing in the back of the room. I stand up in fury, and my face is flaming red. He is not going to embarrass me again, not today.

“Oh! I am so sorry that I didn’t know that I needed to schedule exclusive engagements for you. You threw down the temper tantrum, not me. So, please tell me how this all my fault?” I finish flabbergasted. My face must be purple by now with the combination of rage and embarrassment.
Damn him!

Ryan doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you don’t know shit about me or about NASCAR, which is why you have
no
business being my public relations manager!” he shouts back at me.

“It was your bright idea!” I yell back. We are now in a full-blown screaming match.

We continue to argue as if no one else is in the room. “Fine!” Ryan roars like a bratty teenager. “When you and Jerri get done running me down, I have a few issues with you from yesterday that need to be addressed as well!”

Jerri gapes at us, shocked, much like a mother breaking up a fight between siblings. She castigates Ryan, then me, and hushes us both. “Take a seat now! Both of you!”

I scowl at him.
How old are we?
He smiles mockingly back at me. You bastard!

Jerri lightly taps my arm, which signals me to take my seat as well. Ryan sits quietly in the back of the room as Jerri begins to tell me what steps we need to take for damage control. I fiercely scribble notes as she fires away again.

“And Whitney!” I can tell she’s aggravated. “Language! For God’s sake, please remind the guys about their language over team communications. We were hit with another twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine for Bobby’s rant yesterday. It has got to stop!”

I nod nervously, taken aback by her tone. “Yes ma’am.”

She finishes with more instructions for me and begins to adjourn the meeting without giving Ryan a chance to complain about me. But Ryan immediately interjects.

“This meeting is far from over! It appears that Whitney believes she works for Colton instead of me.” I flush and look down. “She spent over an hour walking around the infield with him. She was not present with me for an interview that I gave which was not even approved. If she had been there, I would have known. Plus, not to mention whatever they did after the race.” He raises his eyebrows in a “You know what I mean” look. “I believe that is a direct violation of company policy!”

Ryan’s comments fly all over me like a heat rash.
You would know!
“That is a lie, Ryan Carter, and you know it! You embarrassed the hell out of me at that Nationwide event!” I let my rage fly. “Yes, I am learning, and I am doing the best that I can. But there is no excuse for your unprofessional behavior yesterday. I don’t care who you are. And, yes, I am the one that will have to clean up your mess!” I am out of breath.

“That’s your fucking job!” he slams me back, and I wince.

“And your job is to keep the sponsors and fans happy. They pay the bills!” I retort. “If I need to schedule a simultaneous meet and greet
from now on, I will! So get over yourself and act like a professional adult.”

“Good luck with that!” Ryan exclaims. “Until you learn to do things my way, you’ll be back in here doing damage control week after week!”