Page 83 of Tipping Point
“McKenna McIntyre in the US next week.” She’s the aerodynamicist behind Skorost and, rumour is, she’s got the best design on the market for the next racing season. She’s been tucked away at their headquarters in Kannapolis, and getting them to agree to us filming for a day has been the bane of my existence these past few months.
I email through the updated filming schedule for the oncoming weeks, and I attach our predicted expense report. So far, we are way over budget already. But the editors at Webflix Max have been hard at work.
Jay and Evan have uploaded all the footage for the last few weeks for the editors. I’ve seen clips, but I haven’t gone through everything. There hasn’t been time.
“Extremely positive response from our focus group.” Mr Higher up congratulates Dixon. “We expect a breakout debut on release day.”
Finn kneels on the other side of the laptop, places my cup of coffee just out of sight. I give him a grateful look and draw it over.
“We hope you’ll stay on for the rest of the season at least.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Actually,” Dixon interjects. “I haven’t been able to inform Ms Chauvin of the news.”
“Oh.” Mr Higher up sounds surprised for a moment, and then steamrollers on. “I’ve reviewed your submission for the Silk Road project,” he says. “I am happy to sign on for it. However, both Dixon and I hope that you’ll see out the year of filming before he returns.”
My gut clenches.
“I would appreciate the extra time,” Dixon interjects.
Finn is standing at the open doors on the threshold of the private garden. He turns toward me, his eyes curious.
I wonder what he’s thinking. He gives me a lopsided smile and brings his cup to his lips.
“I-”
“Take your time, Cam.” Dixon’s voice is low, earnest. “You don’t have to answer now.”
Mr Higher Up waves us away and drones on about the rumour mill, gossip about drivers and teams, and ends it on a bombshell.
“Rumour is Finn’s contract will be renewed.” I glance up at Finn. He has his coffee cup to his mouth, and he stills completely.
“I beg your pardon?”
Mr Higher up keeps rambling on. There is a buzzing in my ears. We sign off shortly after.
“Finn!” I slam the laptop screen closed and scramble up off the floor. I take a running leap and he drops his cup. It shatters on the floor. He grabs me as I leap, and he gives me a spin.
“Congratulations on the offer.” His voice is low and soft, a smile on his lips.
“Thank you,” I say. I mean it. I wouldn’t even have submitted my proposal if he hadn’t pressed me in London.
It seems so long ago.
“And congratulations to you, too!”
He frowns.
“For what?”
“Aren’t they renewing your contract?” I jerk my head back towards the laptop, abandoned on the floor.
He shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms around his neck, planting a kiss on the edge of his mouth where he’s still smiling. “If it’s just a rumour-”
“Let’s not talk about it.”