Twisted Mind (Chequered Flag #2) (4 page)

Chapter Six

Dustin

The second Anthony slid into the driver’s seat of his car I knew he wasn’t going to hold back. I’d watched Raine and Teo arrive and enter the building from the opposite side of the street. When they reappeared minutes later, I slumped down so only my forehead remained visible above the window. The only time Teo didn’t have his hands on her was when she pulled the passenger’s door closed and in spite of everything they looked happy.

Even though a part of me couldn’t be more pleased they’d found their way back to each other, envy overpowered it. Without the cloud of alcohol to dampen my memories, they all flooded back more potent than ever. Like barbed wire being slowly dragged through my veins, the pain shredded me from the inside out.

It hadn’t taken long for Anthony to emerge with my bags after they drove away. He threw my belongings into the boot with more force than I deemed necessary then stomped around to his door and slammed it behind him. I knew I’d only escaped his wrath until now because of Tazia.

Tazia.

It was an unusual name.

A bit like her.

“Dustin! Are you listening to me?”

Anthony’s words shocked me from my musings. I blinked up at him, perplexed. “What was that?”

Anthony let out a pained groan. “I said what the hell is going on with you? The anger, the drinking, the fights…none of this is you. You’ve never missed a practice session or acted like racing wasn’t important. You’re throwing away your shot at the top. If the teams see this type of behaviour, then the contracts I have been negotiating for next year are all going to disappear, Dustin. And so will the one you’ve got now. No one is going to hire an alcoholic.”

“Let them then. None of it matters anymore. What’s the point in racing when you have no one to race for?” I snarled. “And I’m not an alcoholic and I haven’t been in any fights. It was
one
really shitty, life-altering day.”

Anthony made a deliberate effort to soften his words. “Dustin, talk to me. What’s going on? What happened? You don’t get cuts from nowhere and you don’t drink to excess without good reason.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Raine and Teo asked about you. They’re worried too.”

“I’m fine.”

He sucked in an exasperated breath. I wasn’t convincing anyone, even myself.

“We all care about you, Dust. Don’t push us away.”

“I’m not.”

“They asked if they could have tickets to your race. They want to see you.”

I ground my molars together and my gaze bore into his. “No. Keep them away. They are not getting in my garage, you hear me?”

“Dustin—”

“No, Anthony. You keep them out. I can’t deal with them right now on top of everyone else.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them no, but talk to me. What’s going on?”

I folded my arms and the wounds scored into my heart tore open a little more. Every word sent a searing stab to my chest as I held back my explanations. I couldn’t tell my story and not have people look at me differently.

I didn’t want to be pitied or babied, and I definitely didn’t want people watching my every step, waiting for me to shatter.

“I’m not talking about it, Tony. Let me deal with it in my own way.”

Silence hung in the air for a minute. Anthony gripped the steering wheel in agitation. From the corner of my eye I could see he wanted to say more, and was struggling to decide whether he should.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Okay, I’ll stop asking and trust you to deal with everything.”

My relieved exhale was premature.

“
But
you had better finish the season with your best races. No more getting drunk, no more fights, and no more missed flights. If I allow you to do this you will be on time for everything. You will throw all of your energy into winning and landing a Formula One contract. Got it?”

I balled my fists against my chest and spoke through gritted teeth. “Got it.”

What Anthony didn’t realise was I didn’t have much energy left to throw into anything. Every morsel was being used to keep me relatively functional throughout day-to-day life.

* * *

Despite what I’d thought when I agreed to Anthony’s ultimatum, I threw myself into racing the second I arrived in Hungary. Throughout Free Practice and Qualifying I focused solely on being the best and destroying the competition. I channelled my agony and rage into an unwavering focus where I only saw the track from the letterbox sized window inside my helmet.

I became part of the car when in it. Moulded to my body, it fused to me like a second skin so I joined with the machinery, and I was its heart. When I had to get out of the cockpit I ran over my numbers.

Drive, analyse, improve.

It was all that ran through my mind.

Drive, analyse, improve.

I had been wrong when I said I had nothing left to race for. I raced because I loved it and even though it was hard to feel any kind of passion for the sport at that moment, I refused to give it up.

People had taken too much from me already.

It turned out my new focus had an effect. I qualified on pole and I felt unstoppable. Nothing would prevent me from winning and no one would enter my bubble as I headed out to my car on race day.

I answered the few reporters with brief, clipped answers when they followed me. A few of the more familiar ones were taken aback by my attitude. Since I’d become known as the joker of the track my abruptness didn’t fit with what people had come to love me for.

Tough shit.

I pulled on my helmet and waited by my car at the front of the grid. I stared down to the first corner, visualising the track, and when the team gave me the signal I clambered into my car and waited for my engineer to tighten the six seatbelt straps to hold my body in place. Comfortable had never been a word to describe single seat racing. The belts had to be tightened to an impossible level for safety in the event of a crash. They also helped eliminate muscle fatigue by physically holding the driver in place so we became a fixed component. They cut into your skin and made it almost impossible to breathe. However, they hurt a lot less now the bruises on my chest were healing, and they hurt a hell of a lot less than when Elora bruised my ribs. That had been murder. I fitted the steering wheel in place, tuning out all noise except the engines revving around me. I even shut out the voices of my team boss and engineer in my ear.

I flexed my fingers around the wheel and set my car up for the start.

I was a machine; becoming one with the car.

Eventually my team backed off from the car to the edge of the track. I flicked down my visor, the last barrier between me and the outside world. Snapping it shut blocked everything out to conceal me in a stuffy bubble where not even the fresh air penetrated. It focused me.

We were stationary for less than half a minute when the lights on the gantry illuminated above me and signalled for me to lead away the grid on the formation lap.

And soon I returned to sit back on the grid and wait for the final car to be in position.

The lights began to turn red and I revved my engine.

One.

Two.

I pulled in both paddles on my steering wheel.

Three
.

I revved the engine again and I felt the car come alive beneath me.

Four.

I stared at the lights. As soon as the fifth one lit up I released my car, allowing it to surge forward.

* * *

My team cheered for me as I pulled up into parc fermé and stopped in front of the number one sign. Behind the metal railing they jumped up and down, waving me over as I pried myself from the cockpit. In the past I’d run over to celebrate with them. This time I kept my helmet on, gave a brief wave to the fans, and headed into the building to be weighed. I picked up the promotional shit I had to wear on the podium and ignored the other two drivers and my engineer who’d been selected to receive the constructors’ trophy this week. Keeping to myself, I gulped down my water and stared at the TV displaying all of our times.

Mine weren’t fast enough.

I wasn’t far enough ahead.

Sure, I’d won, but I could always get more out of the car or push myself further.

One of the organisers announced they were ready for us on the podium. The other two drivers, Cale and Raffele, who were two of my closest friends on the circuit, left the room. Then finally it was my turn.

Summoning all of the enthusiasm I could, I forced a smile. I placed a bounce in my step as I heard my name called over the speakers and strolled out to take first place on the podium.

Throughout the whole ceremony I laughed and played along, even through the damned champagne showers. I did what people expected of me for the cameras, though on the inside I felt little. My body acted on auto-pilot, performing the actions ingrained in my muscle memory thanks to my many wins. In reality the end couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Seven

Tazia

I was rapidly driving myself insane. I used to be an active person and to suddenly become so restricted in what I could do and where I could go had my body twitching with the desire to get out.

Since my flat came fully furnished, it left me with little to do inside. I’d deliberately chosen it because of that reason and now I was starting to think maybe renting a flat with slightly more work to do would have been a better idea. After all, I could only watch so much daytime TV. I knew I should stop when I became so absorbed by
Jeremy Kyle
I shouted at the TV like I was a part of one of the dysfunctional groups on there.

Don’t judge me, I wasn’t proud of myself for that either.

Anyway, with three weeks left of my eight week recovery I knew I needed to start doing something or risk losing my mind. Therefore, I decided to indulge myself and make my favourite treat: chocolate and passion fruit macarons. I hadn’t baked since the accident, and being away from work only intensified the gap. I hadn’t felt the desire to create anything amidst the chaos that was my life, so I’d simply stopped. The passion hadn’t been destroyed though, and the more I thought about baking, the more the appeal grew.

The only problem was I didn’t have any icing sugar. And with no internet connected yet to order shopping online, and no ability to drive to the shop, I didn’t know how to get any. I’d been living off the food I ordered ahead of moving into the flat. I had deliberately purchased as much as possible, but baking never even crossed my mind, and as I hunted through my cupboards, I realised how sparse they were.

Grumbling about my situation and lack of independence, I leaned back against the counter and wondered if asking Dustin whether he had any icing sugar would be a lost cause. He didn’t seem like the baking type. Then again, he had been calling me by another girl’s name when he woke me up drunk, so I thought maybe she’d have some. And with any luck it’d be her who opened the door since I didn’t feel like having my good mood ruined by having to deal with Dustin.

I hobbled out into the hallway and knocked on Dustin’s door. When it opened my heart sank and then spiked. My lips parted as I took in Dustin’s dishevelled state and bare chest. A smattering of dark hair coated his chest and a thin trail disappeared into the waistband of his jeans along with a V of muscle. There probably wasn’t a millimetre of fat on his body, and even if he might not have been as ripped as the guys you see on the front of romance novels, he clearly looked after himself.

Somewhere in between my brain and my mouth my words became lost because all I could produce was a croak.

“Is everything okay?” He moved his hands, drawing my gaze back down to the waistband of his jeans where he shuffled a deck of cards. His fingers flicked through them, drawing them out into different shapes with the expertise of a seasoned magician. “Tazia?”

I blinked up at him, realising too late I’d been caught staring. A blush bloomed on my cheeks and I forced myself to remember why I’d knocked on his door in the first place. “You don’t happen to have any icing sugar do you?”

“Um…” He threw his gaze to the ceiling as though mentally recalling every item in his kitchen. He appeared none the wiser when his eyes met with mine again. “I have no idea. Raine might have bought some at one point. I’ll check.”

Dustin started to walk away. When he peered over his shoulder to see I wasn’t following he stopped. “You can come in. Knowing Raine she’d have hidden it somewhere strange so it may take a second to find.”

I crept into his flat and shut the door softly. A blanket of awkwardness at being in a stranger’s home for the first time settled over me. I followed Dustin to the kitchen, taking in the rooms as I went. Cards were scattered across the living room floor, empty liquor bottles sat on the table, clothes were strewn across the back of the sofa, and there was a noticeable dent in the wall.

What the hell?
I attempted to mask my true thoughts, yet I must have failed because when I entered the kitchen Dustin regarded me with shame as he looked over my shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been out of the country and haven’t had time to clean up.” He scratched his head, his floppy locks drooping over his forehead. “I wasn’t in a good place when I left and I only got in last night.”

“I’ll say,” I scoffed, then realised what I’d said. I raised my hand to cover my mouth. Speaking without thinking was a bad habit of mine and one I really needed to work on. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean it.”

Dustin shrugged. “You did and you’re right. You don’t have to apologise.”

He rummaged through the cupboards, the muscles in his back tensing as he stretched to reach the highest shelf.

I bit down on my lip. For some obscure reason I wanted to run my finger down his sinewy back then skirt the waistband of his boxers sticking out above the low cut denim. At least until I noticed a faint cluster of green and yellow almost healed bruises on his lower back.

“It
was
icing sugar you wanted, wasn’t it?”

I lifted my gaze abruptly from where I had once again been staring. When my eyes found his he smirked at me knowingly, like he knew exactly what had been going on inside my head.

“Uh, yeah.” I coughed in an attempt to clear my throat. Believing a change of subject was desperately needed, I asked, “Where’ve you been then?”

“Hungary.” The sound came back muffled by the wooden walls of the cupboard.

I scrunched up my nose, thinking he hadn’t heard my question. “No, not really. It wasn’t long ago I ate.”

A bark of laughter echoed from the lower cupboard. He dipped his head, careful not to bang it on the counter as he extricated himself. His lips curved at the corners to banish the weariness previously straining his expression. “No, I was in Hungary.”

“Weird place to go. What were you doing there?” My words once again came out sharper than I intended them to, my embarrassment fuelling my bluntness and causing my cheeks to burn. I focused on the floor and only when his shoes squeaked on the tiles signalling he’d turned away from me again did I glance up.

“I had a race.”

I couldn’t stop my jaw from falling slack. Out of all the answers he could have given me that was not what I expected. I had no idea why it came as a surprise considering how little I knew about Dustin, but it did. Maybe it had been the drunken stupor I’d seen him in causing me not to link him to a career in sport.

“You’re a racer?”

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’.

“What kind?”

“GP2, nearly Formula One. Why?”

“No reason. It’s not a common career so I didn’t expect it.”

Dustin stared at me with an arched eyebrow. “Don’t hold back on my account, Tazia. You’ve been blunt since I met you so don’t stop now. I can take it.”

I bent over the kitchen counter, resting my chin on my palms. “
Sure
you can.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged.

“Seriously, Tazia. If you have something to say—”

“It’s nothing. Just from first impressions, racing isn’t the career I’d have put you in.”

Dustin sighed. He rested his hands on top of the granite counter and hung his head. For a second he remained there with his eyes screwed shut. He took deep breaths in through his nose and exhaled loudly through his mouth. The muscles in his arms repeatedly bunched as he curled his fingers against the worktop.

I wanted to say something, although firstly I had no idea what would make him feel better. And secondly, I thought he might break if I did.

Eventually, he opened his eyes. When he peered up the brief flicker of happiness had been masked by pain. “I’m not usually like that. I’d been given some really shitty news when you saw me and I wasn’t handling it well.”

I desperately wanted to ask what had happened. However, I restrained myself since my bluntness and curiosity frequently landed me in trouble. Dustin didn’t seem like he was in the mood to share either, and really? Who ever wanted to spill their guts to a stranger, especially one they’d no doubt see often since they moved in next door?

Instead I offered the only thing I could. “Want to pretend that day never existed and start again?”

Dustin’s eyes crinkled warmly and he exhaled in relief. “That would be great. Really, really great.”

“Don’t get too excited, you don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for. You’d have probably liked me better if I still hated you.”

“You hated me?” He frowned.

“Eh, it was a close call. I wasn’t sure what to make of you, but there were more negatives than positives.”

Dustin chuckled, the warm sound seeping into my bloodstream like a hot drink on an icy winter day.

“Well, I’ll happily forget all about it.” He held out his hand. “I’m Dustin Coates. GP2 racing driver, royally fucked up human being, and brilliant magician.”

My lips quirked. “Tazia Nixon. Baker and also a royally fucked up human being who overcompensates by trying to be an eternal optimist.”

I reached out to take his hand and beamed up at him. We sounded like two of the world’s worst dating profiles, yet our statements were honest. They had me beginning to think Dustin wasn’t really the jackass I’d seen on day one.

When he dropped his hand and stepped away from the counter to shut the cupboard it surprised me to find I missed the warmth of his touch.

“Sorry, I don’t have any icing sugar. I thought Raine might’ve bought some since she has a sweet tooth, although she prefers fudge.”

Despite telling myself it was none of my business, I couldn’t help wondering who Raine was. The first idea I had was a girlfriend, which led me to consider whether she’d caused his foul mood when we met.

“No worries. It was a long shot. I guess I’ll have to go to the shop.” Curiosity got the better of me. “Who’s Raine?”

“My old roommate.”

“An ex-girlfriend? Is she the reason you got drunk?”

Dustin barked a laugh, the sound devoid of any humour. “No, Raine’s my brother’s girlfriend. No doubt soon to be fiancée if he has his way.”

I tilted my head to one side. “And she lived with you?”

“We were friends. He met her through me and when their relationship turned sour she moved in with me. She recently moved back in with him so I’m back to living alone.”

I hummed. “Were friends?”

“We’re still mates. Things are just complicated.”

“Oh, did you like her too?” I winced. “Did I put my foot in it by bringing it up?”

Dustin shook his head. “You’re incredibly nosey. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I did warn you your life would be easier had we hated each other.”

“No, I’ve never liked her as more than a friend. She has always been and always will be Teo’s girl.”

I opened my mouth then stopped myself when a connection slipped into place. “Wait, Teo Coates, as in the nation’s favourite driver?”

Surprise registered all over Dustin’s face. “You follow Formula One?”

“No. I follow the gossip magazines.”

Dustin groaned, raising a hand to scrub his stubble coated jaw. “Please don’t believe everything you read in those. They spin stuff.”

“I know. So you’re both racers? Who’s the better driver?” I teased, wondering how easy he was to wind up. If we were to be friends I needed someone who didn’t take me seriously and I could have a laugh with.

“Me of course, he just got lucky first. Next year I’ll show him.”

I hummed in disbelief despite the happy creases around my eyes refusing to dampen. Something about Dustin made me happy. His story drew me in and the more he spoke the more I wanted to know him.

I caught a glimpse of the time. “Shit, I’d better go if I have any chance of getting to the shop before it closes.”

“Yeah, okay. What did you want it for anyway?”

“I told you, I bake. I wanted to make macarons,” I called over my shoulder as I moved to the front door.

“Fancy making extra?”

I chuckled at the hope in his voice. “We’ll see—”

I stopped in my tracks at the sight of Perry at my door. A brief flicker of confusion crossed his face when I stepped out of Dustin’s flat. “Hi, Tazia.”

“Hey, Perry. What’s going on?”

He thrust a paper cup at me. “I wanted to check on you and see if you’d settled in. I also bought you coffee. I thought since you didn’t want to go for lunch until your leg healed I’d bring the drink to you.”

I took the cup and attempted to hide my suspicion. The last thing on my mind was searching for another relationship, and Perry appeared to be trying to fill that spot in my life.

I held the cup against my chest. “Thanks. I was about to head out to the shops actually.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got her, Perry.” Dustin’s hand landed on my shoulder and I snapped my head in his direction to fix him with a perplexed stare. “We were going to take my car, weren’t we, Tazia?”