Page 59 of Narrow Margins
This is not how I imagined this weekend would go; I expected a loved-up weekend in a five-star hotel, mixed in with some bike racing and meetings about a possible contract.
So, being met at the airport by an overly made-up, high-heeled, tight-clothed woman does not fill me with enthusiasm. In fact, I can’t believe I ever slept with women before. She’s attractive, with legs up to her chin and soft, wavy, long, chestnut colored hair but the way she keeps swishing it over her shoulder as she talks to me is beginning to irritate me.
“I’m sorry your manager couldn’t make it here with you, I’ll have to make sure I keep you busy. I’ll take you to the hotel now so you can freshen up and then we can meet up with my father and the rest of the team for dinner. It will be quite informal so, smart casual clothing will be fine.” This woman never stops talking.
“Excuse me, your father you say? Is Bill Simmons your father?” I look at her incredulously, why wouldn’t she have introduced herself as that at the start?
“Oh, silly me, didn’t I say that? Well, let’s start again. Hi, Griff, I’m Callie Simmons. It’s really great to meet you.” The silly, sorority girl offers her perfectly manicured hand for me to shake.
“Er, yeah. Hi, Callie.” I mumble back and try to tune out her constant chatter. I really wish she would stop touching me with every sentence.
A town car waits at the curb and a driver gets out as we approach and walks to the trunk of the car, ready to take my suitcase and bike gear. Mere minutes later, we drive down the busy freeway, away from the airport. Pulling my phone from of my jeans pocket, I text Corrie, blocking out the noise of the scatterbrained woman next to me. Corrie tells me about the crap going on back at home. How weird is it that in a few short weeks I already consider that place home? It makes me think again about being part of a team that is based so far away. Maybe home is wherever Corrie is and, if he’s with me, does it matter where we live? It’s something I will have to ask him about.
I know this city, I’ve been here plenty of times so, as I gaze out of the windows, I recognize my surroundings and watch it all go by in the fifteen-minute journey to the hotel. As we pull up, the valet opens the door for me and I climb out, surprised when Callie does too.
“I think I’ll be alright from here, Callie, I’ve been here before. What time, and where, shall I meet you?” I frown as she tucks her arm through mine. Gently removing her hand, I reach for my luggage but it has already been loaded onto a cart and is being wheeled through by one of the doormen.
“Oh! I’m staying here, too, I don’t live here anymore so daddy set me up to stay here with you. It will be fun getting to know you.” She giggles.
After checking in, I walk over to the elevator and press the call button. Hearing Callie talk to someone on her phone, I hastily make my escape. The suite is as I have come to expect in these sort of places: the huge bed covered in an excessive number of pillows and cushions makes me rub the ache in my chest as I hanker for Corrie.
I send another message to Corrie, hoping he’ll be able to call, but it seems he’s too busy dealing with his own crisis. I head off to the bathroom and shower quickly. I don’t want to spend time in here; I know, if I start thinking of my man, I’ll be quickly rubbing one off. I don’t want to, I want to save myself for him, for when I get back.
Pulling a beer from the mini-bar, I click on the large, flat screen TV and flick through the sports channels before pressing on the bike racing. My heart lurches when a tab at the bottom of the screen flashes with my name and being spotted at the airport here.
“Shit!” I cry out, so much for keeping under the radar. I watch for any more information but it seems that’s all they’ve got on me.
My cell phone buzzes and I see it’s time for me to go downstairs. Hitting the off button on the TV remote, I grab my jacket and shove my phone into my back pocket. Combing my hands through my already scruffy hair, I collect the key card from the console table by the door and walk out. The elevator comes quickly and I enter, trying not to look at my reflection in the glass lined walls. I’m stressed and need to calm down before meeting my potential new bosses.
As the doors slide open, I cringe inwardly as I hear Callie’s high-pitched laughter, “Here he is, Daddy, I told you he wouldn’t be late.”
I walk up to Bill Simmons, a man in his early fifties who obviously takes good care of himself, I can see he is an attractive man: the lightly tanned skin and the pale blonde hair scream time spent outdoors. He smiles broadly and his eyes have a twinkle of humor in them as he clasps my hand in both of his.
“Griff Broderick, I sure am pleased you’re here. I hope my beautiful daughter here made you feel welcome?” He lets go of my hand to wrap his arm around his daughter’s slender shoulder, Callie smiles sweetly and slaps her father’s chest jokingly.
“She has been very kind, I’m sorry that Corrie isn’t here with me; he has had a sudden family bereavement and needed to stay with his brother.”
“Yes, so I understand. Please, pass on my condolences when you return. Now, shall we go to dinner? Our guests will be waiting for us with empty stomachs.” Bill lets out a hearty laugh and claps his hand on my shoulder.
Callie walks around to my other side and quickly tucks her hand into my bent elbow. I’m not very comfortable with this, even less so when I see her father look at us with a congenial smirk on his face.
Arriving at the building, I see a band of photographers milling around the entrance of the very popular restaurant. Shaking my head, I keep it tucked away from the cameras trained on us.
“Oh, Daddy, I told you this would happen if we came to this one.” Callie berates her father but, by the confused look on his face, he isn’t convinced he knows what she is talking about. Her demeanor changes as she fluffs her hair around her dainty, heart-shaped face and tries to grab hold of my hand. I remove her from me and step inside the door before any other pictures are taken.
After being introduced to the rest of our table, I peruse the menu and ignore Callie’s attempt to pull me into her conversation. I’m conscious of other patrons looking over at our table and there are a few cell phones out as they try to take candid photographs.
The dinner is going well: everyone is very forward thinking and proactive to get the team up in the ranks and I seem to be the key. I explain about my day at the track, and the Ducati I rode, and talk of the thrill of the track again. While they are not using Ducati bikes, they are offering Honda and I smile, telling about winning my first championship on a Honda. I am more than happy to have the chance to repeat it.
The downside of the evening is Callie, she constantly touches my hand or arm to get my attention. I expect her father to pull her up on it but, from his expression as he watches her lean in to whisper something pointless in my ear, he seems to be encouraging her. Damn it! I feel the eyes of the restaurant on me as camera’s flash again. Inwardly, I groan, wishing with every fiber of my being that Corrie is here with me. I’ll call him as soon as I get back to the hotel. I need his voice to center me.
Finally, the meal ends and, with a flurry of handshakes, we make our way out to the car. It’s parked at the front of the building and we wade through the cameras to reach it. Callie makes a show of grabbing me, wrapping her arm around my waist and leaning into me to get through. She is a spring of excitement and I know she’s loving every minute of the attention. The car whisks us away, driving quickly back to the hotel. Bill gives me a time to be ready for tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to get on the track and see what his team is like. The dynamics of the tech team is the most important part to me; I don’t care about management and sponsors, I want to know that the mechanics know exactly what they are doing and that they do it well.
“That’s no problem, sir, I’m looking forward to it.” I shake his hand as I get ready to get out of the car.
“Callie will be helping you through this, think of her as your PA. Anything you need, she’ll be able to sort for you.” Bill smiles at his daughter, “I’ll leave you in her very capable hands. Goodnight, son.”
Taken aback by his term of endearment, I look at him and he gives me a hint of a wink before I climb out of the car. I know I should be gentlemanly and wait for Callie to catch up with me but I only want to get away from her.