Counterpoints 2 (Counterpoints #2) Read online

  The girls said something to each other and then looked at him again. They must have been young, maybe twenty five.

  “Are you Christopher Taylor, race driver for MB racing?” one of them had the courage to speak up.

  “Yes, that’s me” he smiled again “I promise, my friends and I just want to have a chat with you and enjoy the city”

  “Okay” the one that looked the youngest of the group said and walked to the bus door, followed by the others.

  The guys cheered and Mark patted Christopher on the shoulder.

  “Welcome” Mark said to the girls and offered them a drink.

  They had beers on the bus but nobody was drinking. After all they had to work the next day.

  The minutes that followed were possibly the hardest for Isabella. Her throat had gone dry and she hardly spoke to anyone.

  Every single time she tried to inhale, she felt a pain in her chest. She eyed Christopher, constantly, her face grim, her feelings all over the place.

  One of the girls had taken a seat beside Christopher- between him and Fred- and they seemed deep into conversation.

  Every so often, the girl would tilt her head back and laugh, her fingers would brush against her bare shoulder, as a way to lure Christopher in to touching her.

  Christopher’s stare- a little bored, a little tired- had wondered over to Isabella a couple of times, but she had done her best not to look his way.

  It was one of those situations, where Isabella didn’t need a mirror to check her reflection. She knew exactly what she looked like: pale and sick, like the blood had left her entire body.

  “What’s up?” Hillary asked after a while.

  Her boss had finished talking to Fred and one of the girls, her attention was back on Isabella, who had been silent for a good ten minutes.

  “Nothing, just tired” she shrugged.

  It hurt, who was she trying to fool? It hurt to see him in some other woman’s company.

  It hurt not to be next to him and just enjoy being together.

  Isabella could never do that, she could never sit next to him and flirt openly. Impossible. Not if she wanted to keep doing her job, the way she was doing it now.

  It would only complicate things… But Is this what I want? To be a secret? Isn’t this making things complicated already?

  She looked at him again and saw that his eyes were on her- no smile on his lips, his face seemed to say he couldn’t do otherwise. This was what the guys were used to see him do, enjoy girls’ company. A lot of girls.

  The bus was loud and it became even louder, as they stopped in front of the magnificent Brandenburg Gate.

  It was then that Noah looked Isabella’s way, when one of the girls leaned her head over his arm.

  Where was his date? The tall brunette from the fashion show?

  They were close, it looked like they were about to kiss any minute, but Noah’s eyes were on Isabella.

  He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t laughing.

  Isabella swore he seemed sorry, possibly sorry for her. His eyes searched the room and then were back on Isabella, a little wide this time, as if he was trying to tell her something.

  Something like ‘This is it, what I was talking about’ and what it would be like with Christopher. Sooner or later he would move on to someone else, just like he had said to her in Toronto.

  Then, Noah turned back to his new friend and Isabella went back to pretending, pretending she was okay.

  It felt like hours, but the girls were on the bus for only twenty minutes. The longest twenty minutes of Isabella’s life.

  Chapter 15

  When the phone rang, Isabella almost felt like hugging it. Cristina was calling.

  They spent the first minutes talking their usual nonsense, doing their thing.

  How I miss her…

  “How’s Milan?” Isabella dared to ask.

  She made a face while she said it, like it was a hazard.

  The answer could have been pretty ugly, knowing Cristina very ugly. After all she had been born and brought up in Rome and there had always been a sort of rivalry between the two cities.

  “It’s okay” Cristina muttered and Isabella leaned over her cell phone.

  “Come on, you can tell me”

  “I miss Rome”

  “There you go” Isabella nodded. Who was Cristina trying to fool? “Let it all out…”

  “It’s crowded…”

  “So is Rome” Isabella pointed out.

  “It’s gray and humid. And I feel like people want to laugh in my face every time they hear my accent”

  “I….got nothing” Isabella thought hard of what to say, to make her friend feel better “Your accent is pretty funny, though” she giggled thinking about it.

  “Thanks, you are a real cheerleader”

  “Oh come on, I’m joking. Everybody loves your cute accent from Rome”

  “I was going to say…” and Cristina giggled a little.

  There you go. She’s smiling again, my warrior.

  “How are the twins?”

  “They are good actually, they like the new life”

  “You say it like you’ve been there ages. It’s been just two weeks”

  “Eighteen days” Cristina corrected her friend “But who’s counting?”

  “You apparently” Isabella smiled against her phone “Let’s hear the positives”

  “Shops”

  “Good. What else?” Isabella pressed on.

  “I still have to find out. How are you?”

  “Okay” Isabella mumbled.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The usual” she shrugged.

  Nothing was really going on, nothing new anyway. Christopher hadn’t really done anything wrong.

  I’m just being moody and unreasonable.

  “I’m not hanging up until you tell me” Cristina said and Isabella could just imagine her crossing her arms, in that bossy manner that was so like her, so used to being in charge at work and with the kids.

  “It’s nothing really. Everything is fine, just sometimes it gets to me the fact that we are seeing each other secretly…” Isabella didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to, Cristina understood.

  “Remember, it’s you that wants to keep it a secret” she said softly.

  “I know” Isabella nodded. “It’s just that he’s acting a little weird and it’s not easy to interpret his behavior, when we can hardly speak to each other”

  “No interpreting. It’s bad for us girls, remember?” Cristina reminded her.

  Isabella knew it by heart, Cristina’s rule number one.

  It had been her mantra during University. Men are easy to understand, no underlying motives. They were very open, what you see is what you get and so on.

  “What do you mean with acting weird?”

  Isabella paused. It was one of those things she didn’t know if she should say or not. She knew she was being a little selfish, especially with the delicate weekend ahead of Christopher.

  “He’s going hot and cold on me. One minute he wants me, like physically wants me, he wants to touch me, he’s flirty…”

  “Nice….” Cristina commented.

  “One minute he’s….” Isabella paused “Never mind, it’s stupid”

  “One minute he’s what? You can’t just stop midsentence like that. Not fair” Cristina pouted.

  “I shouldn’t be even thinking about it. He’s probably acting weird because he’s under a lot of stress with the Championship”

  “One minute he’s what, Isabella?” Cristina demanded to know.

  “Cold”

  “Ah” Cristina exclaimed “As in?”

  “Distant, both physically and emotionally. It doesn’t help that we can’t speak to each other like we want to”

  “You said that already. And yes, that’s definitely a problem”

  “And last night he was chatting up girls because the guys asked him to, asked him to be his self really. So
these girls got on this bus with us…” Isabella blurted out.

  I am a bitch, thinking about me in a moment like this, when Christopher is going through such a tough weekend, Isabella thought but if there was a person she could be honest with, if there was a person in the whole world that would sympathize with her, that was Cristina.

  Anytime, always.

  “You are jealous” Cristina said, like it surprised her but really it didn’t.

  “I am” Isabella admitted and covered her face, like someone could see her blush.

  She felt like shrinking.

  Shrink, shrink, please shrink. I want to disappear.

  “Are you in love with him?” Isabella imagined Cristina’s face, her mouth dropping.

  “I don’t know”

  “Yes, you do” Cristina pressed on.

  “I think…It’s killing me this whole secrecy” Isabella continued, doing her best to change the direction of the conversation.

  “Then just stop, make it public. Who cares about the others?”

  “I do. It’s going to get harder to work with him” Isabella’s mind went to Mr. Jenkins.

  Now that he was off her – well, at least he seemed to trust her a little more- now that he was sticking his nose a little less in her work, she was going to break it to him, the news about Christopher and her seeing each other.

  “It sounds hard now already” Cristina had a point.

  It is hard, Isabella sighed.

  “I saw the qualifying sessions today” Cristina broke the silence “He’s going to start first tomorrow”

  “Since when do you watch First Category Racing?” Isabella smirked.

  “Since my gorgeous friend works for one of the teams” Cristina said “Christopher was really fast, he shouldn’t worry about the race. Carlo said he didn’t make a single mistake today”

  “I know, he was great” Isabella confirmed.

  She thought about how happy Christopher had been when he had stepped out of the car, his thumb up towards his screaming fans.

  He had posed for the photographs and told the cameras how good he had felt in the car.

  “Talk to him after the race tomorrow” Cristina suggested.

  “Maybe”

  “Just do it, stop thinking too much about it”

  “You are probably right…” Isabella nodded and looked outside her room window.

  The sky was dark, no stars in sight. Where were the stars?

  It’s going to rain, she thought to herself recalling the weather forecast and what Christopher had said to her awhile back.

  It always rains when we race in Germany, even for just two minutes but rain is not a chance, it’s a guarantee in Berlin.

  It was as gentle as a blow, her mind wondered.

  What is Christopher doing? Is he asleep?

  Isabella kept her eyes on the city, the lights of the center brighter now that the darkness had risen. She hoped Christopher was resting, sleeping soundly and recharging his batteries for the race.

  “I am going back to my room soon, but tomorrow I want us to stay awake all night” he had whispered to her over dinner, when the rest of the guys had been talking amongst themselves.

  His words had seemed to quiet down her restless soul for a while, but the doubts, the fears were back full on, as she lay sleepless on her bed, in her hotel room.

  “I am always right” Cristina sentenced on the other end.

  “Says the lawyer” Isabella smiled and kept her eyes on the dark, black sky, as a lightening sparked in the distance.

  The sky was still cloudy when they arrived on track the morning of the race.

  The air was chilly, not at all the sort of weather you’d expect in mid-June.

  Both Isabella and Hillary were wearing pants and the MB uniform jacket over their t-shirts.

  They took their time in setting up their work stations in the box, checking every now and then the blog, the social networks and posting a few thing about the upcoming race.

  Mechanics were there to set up the equipment and cross check that everything was there, everything they might need was in the right place, ready for them in case of emergency.

  Their work is so organized, Isabella thought.

  It was something she envied. Organization, that is. It was completely another language to her, she lacked that systematic structure in her work.

  Isabella smiled at the mechanics standing there beside her and offered them coffee a couple of times.

  They are all so nice to me.

  It was only around twelve o’clock that Christopher, Noah and the other drivers started to arrive at the circuit.

  Efforts to keep Christopher at arm’s length with the tabloids and the press, had been successful. He seemed calm and relaxed when he stepped out of his car- hat, jeans and leather jacket on, holding his backpack with the uniform inside, and sporting a warm smile as usual.

  “Ciao” he said, when Isabella greeted him at the staff entrance. He took his headphones off.

  “Ciao” she smiled back at him, her hand nervously reaching for the headphones in her ears. She pretended to adjust them.

  “Where’s Hillary?” he wondered.

  Usually, she was the one who greeted him at the entrance and walked him through some of the things scheduled that day, while Isabella stayed in the box at her work station or walked around with Phil, to discuss where to take the best shots during the race.

  “She’s making sure Noah behaves” Isabella eyed him “We have to go, too” she gestured Christopher to follow her.

  While they walked, Isabella double checked everything with Christopher.

  Briefing in half an hour with Mr. Johnson and his team of mechanics.

  After that, circuit walk with his engineer. Drivers parade and then exhibition of dancers on the starting line. National anthem and then time to roll.

  “Pretty straight forward. No interviews?” he said and brushed his hand against hers, sending sparks up her arm.

  “No interviews, besides questions in the conference room after the race” Isabella looked sideways at him.

  “Thanks” he looked ahead, with a soft smile on his lips. “Maybe not even the conference room, if I don’t make it on the podium”

  “Of course you’ll be on the podium” Isabella said, not the slightest sign of doubt in her voice. “Anything I can do for you before the race?” Isabella asked and saw him grin.

  “I mean besides sex, Christopher” she looked up at him and smirked.

  “I was actually about to suggest we go for a coffee at the circuit café, but we could always do what you were suggesting …” he stopped walking and looked into her honey, brown eyes again. “Are you mine tonight?”

  “Just tonight?”

  “Every night” he smiled to the side.

  Isabella took in a deep breath and looked down.

  “Let’s think about the race now” Isabella tried to bring the attention back on track, literally.

  “I am thinking about the race, by not thinking about the race. I need a distraction” he resumed his walk and waved to a couple of people, wearing another team’s uniform.

  Christopher knew everybody.

  “Christopher, Christopher Taylor!!!!!” they heard a voice shout his name from the stands in the first sector, right above the boxes’ area.

  It was a man in his fifties maybe, moving his arms up and down like there was no tomorrow, trying to get Christopher’s attention.

  The man hopped down the stands, his ticket hanging from his neck – he had a VIP pass- and reached for Christopher’s hand.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you, at last” the man said and looked from Isabella to Christopher “Would you sign me an autograph, please?” he showed him a piece of paper.

  “Sure” Christopher took his pen and scribbled his name. “There you go”

  “Thanks” the man kept his eyes on the autograph, his face said he couldn’t believe his luck.

  Christopher and Isabella starte
d walking again- after Christopher had waved at him- just as the man mumbled something under his breath, something comprehensible enough to make Isabella stop dead cold.

  “It will be worth millions, if you die like your father”

  Isabella gasped and turned to look at the man again.

  “What did you say?” Christopher’s head snapped in his direction, while the man started walking backwards, towards his stand again. The grip on his paper tightened.

  Christopher’s eyes seemed to darken and his face turned crimson red in an instant.

  He moved towards the retreating man in a haste, daring him to repeat what he had just said under his breath.

  “What the fuck did you say?”

  “Christopher!” Isabella shouted.

  Her hand pushed hard on his chest. She put herself in between Christopher and the retreating man “Let it go, let it go” her eyes were full of worry and rage at the same time.

  Christopher kept his stare on the man a little longer but then looked down at her and his body started to relax under her touch.

  He released his fists, his hands uncurled.

  He would have punched the man, he would have hit him, his words so cruel and unexpected.

  “Let it go” Isabella repeated, her tone soothing now “Walk away, let’s go” she touched his shoulder, her arm wrapping around his waist- not caring if anyone saw them- and kept her eyes on Christopher the whole time.

  Breathe in and out, in and out.

  Christopher walked up and down the box, his headphones on and his eyes fixed on nothing in particular, just the blank wall ahead.

  Not even the music seemed to help him that day. He scrolled down the list and changed tracks a few times, never stopping to sit. Christopher just couldn’t sit down. His legs wouldn’t hear of standing still.

  When the helicopter flew by the second time, Christopher walked over to his helmet and got hold of his dark blue and green gloves.

  He opened one hand and closed it into a fist immediately after.

  Shit, he mumbled under his breath.

  His hand was shaking, it just wouldn’t stop shaking.

  He willed himself to get it together, to find the concentration like his father had taught him when he was a kid.