Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1) (5 page)

I just nodded in response to his statement. What could I say, really? I couldn’t exactly deny any of it, the evidence was irrefutable.

“You’ve been fined ten thousand for your outburst at Bathurst,” he continued.

I nodded again. Ten grand. It was painful, but not unmanageable.

“And another ten for that display.” His hands indicated the magazine cover. “For bringing the sport into disrepute.”

Fuck
.

Twenty thousand in fines in one week. I wondered whether maybe it was another record. As if my life wasn’t screwed up enough already. I knew better than to argue though; it wasn’t as though Danny had set the fines. Besides, he might have exuded calm at all times and seemed to be the very picture of patience, but I knew just how explosive he could be if you argued back.

Despite his short stature and thin frame, I’d seen him bring grown men to tears. I knew only one person who could put Danny in his place, and that was his wife, Hazel. Over the years, she’d made her thoughts on my womanizing very clear, so I couldn’t count on her leaping to my defence anytime soon. Especially not after she’d seen me talking to Paige Wood. I wouldn’t be surprised if Danny brought that up next.

I waited for Danny to continue, but he just sat, hands clasped together, and assessed me. He knew how to psych out the competition, and at that moment, that was me. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms with the accompanying sound of the creak of leather as his old jacket refused to move as swiftly as he did.

For a brief moment, I wondered whether I was excused. I hadn’t been explicitly dismissed from his office though, so I didn’t think I had been. I gulped down a breath and met his gaze again. There was still the matter of the third item. The plain envelope. The one I was almost certain held my marching orders. I almost hoped he’d say that it was just to put me out of my misery.

When Danny stared impassively at me for a moment longer—locked in a silent battle of wills I was sure to lose—the air in the room thickened into a palpable presence surrounding me, clawing down my throat as if trying to force words from me and the envelope loomed larger before me, magnified by my fear of it.

“Is—is there anything else?” I asked when I couldn’t handle the waiting any longer.

Danny frowned. “What do you think?”

“I—I don’t know.”

He stood and circled his desk, perching on the edge of it and gazing down at me. “What’s going on with you, Declan?”

My mouth went dry. I was tempted to say I didn’t know again, but I knew that wouldn’t satisfy him. Panic gripped my chest as I waited for him to say the words I knew were coming. He was going to ask what was wrong, I was going to tell him nothing, and then he was going to fire my arse.

I dropped my head. “It’s a ghost from my past,” I muttered down at my lap.

“And what, precisely, does this ghost have to do with me?”

“Nothing. It’s just something I need to deal with.”

“How?”

“What?” I looked up at him.

“How are you planning on dealing with it?” His gaze was steady, unwavering as his cold slate gaze assessed me.

“I just need some time?” It wasn’t assertive, or cocky, or anything of the things he probably expected of me. It was a sign of just how far I’d fallen in a few short months.

Danny spun around and grabbed the plain envelope, sliding it closer to me.

“What’s this?” I asked timidly as I took it into my hands.

He pushed himself off the desk and crossed to his window. “Open it.” His tone gave nothing away.

Swallowing down my fear, I peeled open the envelope slowly. There was no point speeding to the end of my career—or my dreams. Inside was a key and a smaller envelope with airline details printed on it.

“What’s this?” I asked again, my voice lifting as I examined the contents. It certainly wasn’t what I’d expected. Instead of the dreaded notice of dismissal, I’d pulled an airline ticket from the envelope and then inspected the details. It was a ticket to London on a flight due to leave the following day.

Danny crossed the room again and sat in his chair, his slate-grey gaze steady on me again. “You are taking the rest of the season off.”

It wasn’t what the doctor had indicated. After assessing the damage to my ribs—just a hairline fracture—she’d said there was a chance I could be back in the car again before the end of the season. There was no question in Danny’s voice though. The time off wasn’t a choice I was being offered, but a directive from the boss. Something I couldn’t argue with, not with the tenterhooks I was already hanging from.

That didn’t stop me from trying.

“What about the sponsors?” The team’s sponsors paid for a certain amount of track time each year, and the sponsorship money was refundable if that time wasn’t met.

Danny laughed sardonically. “This isn’t open for discussion, Declan.”

He leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the desk, and then stared at me.

“Do you honestly think any of them will miss a crash every single meet? It’ll probably end up being cheaper for us to back out of every deal than to have to build a new car every couple of weeks. Besides, the way you’ve been driving, it’s unlikely we’ll meet the track time requirements anyway.”

I hung my head in shame. My cheeks burned red and I longed for a drink to take the edge off the guilt eating at my stomach.

“This is a one-time offer, kid. A last chance, so to speak,” Danny said. There wasn’t a trace of anger in his voice, but somehow that made it seem all the more serious. “Take the time off like you wanted. Go to London; the doctors have given you clearance to fly. Get your shit together, and then come back fresh next season and get back to winning me some races.”

I didn’t need to ask what would happen if I refused or if I couldn’t do what he wanted; the answer danced in his eyes. The ticket wasn’t much more than a stay of execution if I didn’t do as he ordered.

That didn’t stop me from questioning him though. “Why London?”

“Because you sure as shit haven’t sorted yourself out here. I think you need a change of scenery. Plus, it’ll keep you away from Morgan until he’s calmed a little.”

I nodded. “But what’s the key for?”

“An apartment I own in London. You’ll have free access to it while you’re there, but that’s the only thing I can offer you until you return for the preseason testing.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure that it shouldn’t have been, “Fuck you.”

I didn’t want someone telling me what to do, or where to holiday, but maybe he was on the right track. Maybe it was exactly what I needed—to get out of the country and away from any possible reminders of Alyssa.

It was a chance to try to get my head together. To break whatever hold it was that Alyssa had over me after one chance sighting of her happy smile in the arms of another. Happy without me.

“You do realise this means your pay will be suspended?”

I nodded, mentally calculating what I had in liquid assets. With luck and good management, I should’ve had enough to make it through to preseason without compromising too much of my lifestyle. I would miss the twenty grand I had to pay in fines that much more though.

“And I shouldn’t have to remind you that your contract is up for renewal next year. I’m a reasonable man. I’m willing to overlook this last six months, providing you can prove to me that you are back on top next season.”

After standing and gathering up the documents with all the fines, I offered him a small smile. At least it wasn’t an outright dismissal. There had certainly been enough grounds for one. “Thank you, Danny.”

“I meant it when I said you have the potential to be a great driver, Declan. Nothing’s changed since then. You just need to get your head back in the game.”

”Thank you.”

“That is all.”

I knew not to hang around after getting dismissed from his office, lest he change his mind.

As I walked down the corridor away from his office, I kept staring at the plane ticket in my hand. The flight left the following day, and I had three months before I needed to be back for preseason testing for the following year’s races. That gave me three months to sort myself out.

Three months to get Alyssa “small town” Dawson out of my head for good.

CHAPTER SIX: CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

AFTER I ARRIVED home, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the plane ticket. It felt heavy in my hands, much heavier than a piece of card rightfully should. It was weighted with expectation and fear. If it didn’t work . . . nothing would. I would be done. My career, the one thing I’d worked so damn hard for, would be gone. I’d given up everything for it. If it were gone, I’d be left with nothing. I’d have to crawl back home a failure and watch Alyssa flaunt her new love at every turn.

Realistically, the ticket should have felt light in my hands. It should have felt like the life preserver it was designed to be. One last lifeline thrown in to stop me from sinking further into the deep shit filling my life. For that reason, I was willing to cling to it with both hands. However, it also raised the question of how exactly I was supposed to get my head back in the game. How did I even start to try? It wasn’t as though I hadn’t tried to sort myself out.

I sighed as I threw the ticket onto the bed beside me and fell backward to stare at the ceiling. Almost two hours passed that way, with me lost in the same cycle of thoughts as always, before I decided that if I was catching a plane in the morning, I really needed to get some shit organised. Like clothes . . . and a suitcase.

In my head, I ran through a list of tasks. I thought it would probably be polite to contact my parents at some point before I left, to let them know I was leaving the country for a while. It was the sort of thing they liked to be kept in the loop about. For a second, I debated calling them. Mum would no doubt have already heard about the whole
Gossip Weekly
thing though, so I decided a text would probably be easier and involve a little less lecturing.

I turned my phone on and instantly regretted it. The thing went crazy, beeping and vibrating with all the missed calls and texts I’d received while it was off. I ignored them all, sent Mum a quick text and then turned the phone off again. I wouldn’t have time to call Telstra in the morning to turn on international roaming so no one would be able to contact me. I would be unreachable—which sounded fucking fantastic.

My list of things I needed to do before I left grew with every passing second. I realised I would definitely need my passport, so I’d have to hunt it down. The last time I’d used it was the team trip to Bahrain, but the trip back home had been a bit of a blur and I struggled to remember where I’d put my passport after that. I ran downstairs to check in the study, and saw my passport on the desk next to my old answering machine. The sight made me pause. It was a relic of the days when I’d first moved to Sydney and was no longer used. It wasn’t even plugged in to the phone line anymore. All it was good for anymore was storage. With everything running circles through my head, it would be dangerous to listen to a single message, but I couldn’t help myself.

With a deep breath that hurt like a motherfucker, I steeled myself and pushed play.

“
Hey, Dec. I hope you don’t mind your mum giving me this number, but I need to talk to you. Call me. Please?
” Alyssa’s voice filled the room. Even though she started strong, her words were teary at the end, especially as she added her quiet plea. The recording wasn’t the first time she’d tried to call—I didn’t have those early ones. Instead, it was from after I’d first moved into something slightly more permanent than Morgan’s spare bedroom, a little over a month after I’d arrived in Sydney. I didn’t know why I kept it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to delete it.

I frowned as my finger hovered over the delete button. She’d moved on anyway, why should I keep her old messages? Before I had a chance to act, the next message started.

“
Dec, please. I need you to call me.
” Her tone was harsher, but still filled with sorrow and the weight of expectation. “
What happened to you always being my friend? To you always having my back? I need—
” The message cut off as I yanked the machine off the desk, pulling the plug on the power with the movement. With Alyssa’s tear-filled voice echoing in my ears, I hurled the answering machine across the room, turning away before it smashed against the wall. She’d moved on from that—moved on to smiles and races with another man.

“Fuck you, Alyssa,” I said to the empty house.

Maybe I didn’t have her to keep me company, but I had something better: I had my wet bar. Screw the doctors and their no alcohol with the pain medication rules.

WHEN I woke the next morning, it was with a throbbing headache. A strong urge to just crawl back under the covers overtook me. At least until I remembered why I’d set the alarm in the first place.

The flight
.

I jumped out of bed and called a taxi. While I waited, I dashed madly around the house getting the last items together.

For the first time in ages, I missed my family. I regretted not having someone to help me get to the airport. Mum and Dad were still up in Brisbane and other than Eden and Morgan, I hadn’t really made any friends in Sydney. All of my time, spare or otherwise, was spent with the team. With Morgan’s foul mood over my crash, and the team’s attitude toward me in general since the crashes started, I didn’t think any of them would help me out. Truthfully, I didn’t want any of them there to see me off. Especially when Morgan had no doubt shared the gory details about what a pussy I’d been when he’d confronted me.

Despite the early morning, I grabbed my sunglasses to cover the deep purple shade that still covered my left eye, and also to protect my bloodshot eyes. Throwing on a baseball cap, I pulled it low over my face in an attempt to remain as incognito as possible. My stomach protested every movement I made, and I seriously thought about cancelling my flight entirely. Even though I’d managed to swallow a couple of painkillers, they hadn’t taken the edge off the throbbing ache in my skull or in my chest down at all. The thought of having to face a trip through the airport, and then onto a plane full of strangers, was just too much.

Still it was go, or leave Sinclair Racing. Danny wouldn’t offer me another chance for redemption.

The taxi beeped when it arrived out front and, with a head filled with all the reasons I needed the trip, I rushed out to greet it.

BEFORE LONG, it was my turn to check in. I tossed my bag onto the scales and dropped my ticket and passport onto the desk, waiting while the chick behind the computer did her thing. She tried a few times to engage me in conversation, but it was too early and my aching skull left me too pissed off to do much more than grunt responses back at her.

What the fuck am I doing here
? I wondered.

What was it exactly that I expected the trip to give me? Did I really expect three months would change everything? What did I want to change anyway? I mean, obviously it would be nice to get around the racetrack without crashing out. Did that mean I had to exorcise Alyssa out of my mind completely though? I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. I didn’t have feelings for her, I was sure of that much at least, but my chest still clamped shut at the idea of never thinking about her again, of never seeing her face while I dreamed.

I briefly considered calling Danny and just cancelling my contract to save everyone the hassle of the charade. Maybe I would be able to find a job on the sidelines of racing that would give me the thrill without the repair bill. It was the coward’s way out though, and I was no fucking coward. Besides, I didn’t want to throw away my dreams just because of some stupid visions that stopped me from completing a race. That would change . . . somehow. I just needed to figure out how.

The simple fact was that I needed to do what Danny had commanded. I needed to go to London and get my head back in the game. Or at least give it a red-hot go. It was my only chance and if it didn’t work, what would it have cost me?

Even after I’d checked my baggage and gotten my boarding pass, it was still a little too early to deal with security. There were a couple of hours before my flight and I needed to recover from the overly cheerful girl at the check-in desk before I wrangled with any other airline employees.

Instead, caffeine was the next item on my agenda.

After finding my way to one of the airport coffee shops, I ordered a double-shot latte. Once I had my coffee in hand, I walked straight into a booth at the back, which was unfortunately close to the counter but put me away from the general public at least. I slumped down into the booth, hiding my face as much as I could. The last thing I needed was for a roving photographer, or worse, a desperate fan, to find me and ruin my day.

The warm coffee was slowly bringing me to life when I saw a ghost from my past. Alyssa Dawson’s meathead older brother, Josh, walked past my booth and headed for the counter. I shook my head to clear it because it wasn’t possible that he could be there. The only explanation I could come up with for his presence was that I’d gone completely and certifiably insane. I wondered whether Morgan’s fist had been one knock to my head too many. Josh had to be a vision, just like all the ones I’d had of Alyssa. There was no other reason I could think of for him to be in Sydney. Especially not at the international departure lounge just metres from where I was.

Regardless of how small the possibility was that it was him, I did everything I could to avoid any eye contact and limit the chance of him spotting me. I sank further into my seat and dropped my gaze. The last time we’d met, he’d almost put me in hospital just for breaking Alyssa’s heart. I really didn’t feel like adding another black eye to my current collection of complaints, or risk him turning hairline fractures into something much worse.

The man I hoped wasn’t Josh headed for the counter. I turned my head to the right to stare at the wall to avoid catching his eye. The instant his booming voice greeted the cashier, I was left with no doubt that it was him. The sound sent my heart racing. Even though I hadn’t seen Alyssa for years, and he had no reason to have any continuing beef with me, I wasn’t willing to take the chance that he wouldn’t smack me in the mouth just for the fun of it. After our last meeting, I wouldn’t put anything past him.

He was built like a brick shithouse and had fists to match. For a while, Ruth and Curtis, Alyssa’s parents, had thought Josh might end up playing Rugby League professionally. I wasn’t sure whether he’d followed through on that dream, but I hadn’t seen him in any games so I doubted it. He’d probably followed Alyssa’s career advice and given up on those dreams because they were too impossible.

He ordered a short black and a caramel macchiato. I froze and my mouth went dry. I may not have seen Alyssa in years, but I could easily recall her favourite drink. She’d tried a few different things before settling on the caramel macchiato. Her voice echoed through me, filling my mind with the words she’d said when she’d raved to me about it after she’d gone into the city with her other best friend, Jade. Alyssa’s smile had been bright as she’d told me about this drink she’d found that was heaven in a cup.

I closed my eyes and focused on naming each of the corners of Bathurst in my mind in order to block the memory. Nothing positive could come from reliving the good times Alyssa and I had once shared. It was a long time ago, before I’d shattered her heart to follow my dreams.

When I thought of Forest Elbow, my mind spiralled back into the place I’d been straight after crashing at Bathurst. I put my head on the table and groaned. Surely my own personal demon could not be at the airport to haunt my escape as well as my races? My heart pounded in my chest and it became harder to breathe.

It doesn’t mean she’s here
, I reasoned with myself as I brushed one hand through my hair. After all, how many people in the world must drink caramel macchiatos? It wasn’t like Alyssa was the only one and had invented something completely unique. It was a standard menu item, for fuck’s sake.

Get a fucking grip, Reede
!

Without lifting my head from the cool surface of the table, I turned slightly to glance at Josh. He gave no hint why he was there, or what he was doing in Sydney in general, as he casually flirted with the barista before collecting his drinks. To go.

I kept my head down until he’d walked past me again without giving me a moment’s consideration.

My mouth twisted and my stomach plummeted. With him gone, I would never know whether or not she had actually been there. I felt the loss of that information acutely before I pushed it away. It wasn’t like I cared about her or wanted to see her anyway. Not really. No more than I would have wanted to see anyone from school who had suddenly materialised in my vicinity. I downed the last of my coffee despite my protesting stomach.

Pushing the sighting out of my head, I made a beeline for the newsagents, determined to pick up the latest copy of a few of the various Holden magazines so that I’d at least have something to read on the plane. I hadn’t even entered the newsagency when I saw part of the reason for the trip staring out at me from the stands at the front of the store. Multiple copies of the latest
Gossip Weekly
lined the wall. I pulled my hat down even further and ducked my head as I pushed past the display.

Please God, don’t let anyone recognise me in front of the
Gossip Weekly
stand
.

I moved straight into the men’s magazines section. The one housing the magazines filled with cars, bikes, girls, or some combination of the three. Once I was there, I breathed a little easier. It would at least be less embarrassing to be recognised away from that wall.