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  When Isabella reached her room, she crashed on the bed, kicked her shoes off without even raising her head from the pillow. She then fell asleep while briefly texting her sister Emilia the details of the dinner. Her last text read: So far, so good.

  “I am so happy you enjoyed yourself yesterday” Hillary changed lanes and overtook two cars on the highway. Isabella looked over at the speedometer and shut her eyes tight. Hillary had gone way over the speed limit.

  “Are we late?” Isabella managed to articulate, holding on to her seat.

  “I’m sorry luv, I’ll slow down. I am just always in a hurry and I have a wild style behind the wheel” Hillary grinned. No kidding.

  She took her foot off the gas and Isabella sat up.

  “Thanks” she managed to say, without giving away how terrorized she had been minutes before.

  “Not a problem, we are perfectly on time. Now here’s our plan for today: we will have a meeting with the drivers and Christopher’s manager later around lunch time. He wants in on the project. Before that, we have time to check out what the press has been saying about them, about the team and also gossip, speculations. That way we can decide our strategy”

  As Hillary went on about their research in the press, Isabella nodded enthused. She liked the sound of that. It was always good to start off with a good plan. Also a little reading would do her good, to get a better idea of what aspect of MB’s public image they should focus on.

  “Can I ask you something?” Isabella turned to look at Hillary.

  “Fire away, darling”

  “You said we’ll have a meeting with Mr. Jenkins, Christopher’s manager. Does he work for MB too?” what does he have to do with the press and their project, Isabella wondered curious to find out why. Instead she waited for Hillary to say something, since she was already nodding.

  “No, he doesn’t. I know it sounds strange. Normally these things regard the driver and the team. We promote their image and the team’s image. Period. The manager deals with sponsor agreements and contracts. But Mr. Jenkins is particularly protective of Christopher. He wants to be aware of what we are doing here”

  “What’s he like?” Isabella had read that he was one of the best managers in the field. He handled contracts of many drivers in different racing categories, not only Christopher’s. Also, she had heard rumors that he was a real pain in the…

  “He’s a little bossy” Hillary said, choosing to be elegant and professional “but he’s great at his job. No wonder everyone wants him.”

  She put the left indicator on and exited the highway. Only ten kilometers left to their destination. “He gets the best contracts and deals for his clients. And he is particularly attached to Christopher. He knew his father well”

  Meanwhile, in just a couple of hours, the morning had gone from sunny and cold to wet and even colder. Lucky for her, Isabella had worn jeans, black boots and her warm red coat. Still, she was freezing just looking at Hillary, who was wearing a blazer. She had explained to her that it wasn’t so cold after all, that it was a pretty decent day today. Decent day? Isabella smiled a little, it sounded ridiculous to her.

  “So we will be working under Mr. Jenkins or on our own?” Isabella was curious about his presence at the meeting today, despite Hillary’s explanation. She thought It was a little weird, she wasn’t used to having managers around, it had never happened to her so far. In her mind, managers were for business deals and representation in legal situations.

  “Not really. No, I wouldn’t say so” seeing confusion in Isabella’s eyes, Hillary added “The thing is that the project we will be working on is new. In a way our jobs are connected and he wants to be aware of our decisions. Our jobs revolve around publicity. We are here to give the public a snapshot of the team, the image we want fans to see and sort of attract the attention of the press in a positive way. Do you get me? We will be working side by side”

  They took a turn and entered a smaller road that indicated the circuit was only one kilometer away and, as they got closer, the rain started to fall heavier in the English green countryside.

  Isabella nodded but still didn’t understand any of it. If Mr. Jenkins had to approve of their work, than wouldn’t they be working under him? Hadn’t she been employed by MB? Why was he so protective of Christopher? It wasn’t like Hillary and her were going to destroy his image. Exactly the opposite, actually. Why was he so cautious?

  “I have two more questions, but I feel like I am oppressing you. Feel free to shut me up anytime” Isabella didn’t want to stress her boss, but she was so excited and curious about it all. Actually she had at least another ten questions but the rest could wait.

  “Fire away. That’s what I am here for”

  “Who was doing my job last year?” it shouldn’t have mattered really but she couldn’t help but wonder.

  “Nobody really. I was handling the press on my own. What a nightmare that was” Hillary shuddered at the thought. It had been one tough year for her, so tough she had demanded for help.

  “I can imagine” Isabella acknowledged. Yesterday night she had had a brief snapshot of all the things that Hillary was in charge of. It didn’t seem easy to keep everything under control, even though she had a good reputation in the field.

  “Camilla Harrison was my assistant a few years back. Of course there was no blog, no social networks’ profiles back then. Everything’s changed this year. We get to develop this project on our own” Isabella did a double take. Camilla Harrison was one of the best press agents in the sports field. She had also had a brilliant career as journalist. She had interviewed world champions of different divisions, even in the motorbike championship. Isabella gaped before she could find the words.

  “And I am guessing your second question is ‘why did Camilla Harrison leave and I had no assistant last year? Actually, I have been alone for the last two years’” it was as though Hillary had just read her mind. “She received some great offer from Chiellini and accepted it. Also I think she had a problem with MB, but that’s just gossip. I hear she got a load of money to go work for them.”

  Hillary went on about what Camilla was like, that she had an attitude and it was very difficult to do anything together. She had a really strong personality and her motto had always been ‘my way or the highway’ and Hillary wouldn’t hear of it. She really believed that their job was all about teamwork, Camilla wanted to do her own thing, which was what she was now doing at Chiellini, her being the only press agent of the team.

  “I don’t know how she does it on her own. I went nuts these last couple of years. MB had to cut down on staff. Well, this year I got it my way” Hillary winked, satisfied.

  Anyhow, Hillary admitted that, from a professional point of view, she respected Camilla very much. She was very good at her job, always very well organized and smart, always a step ahead of things. That was why people usually put up with her.

  They were quiet until they got to the entrance, where Hillary showed her badge to a security guard and then entered the parking lot with her flashy sports car. When she switched it off, she took something out from her bag.

  “This is yours, by the way. Keep it on you at all times. It’s like your wallet. No, it’s like your underwear. Lose this and you cannot get inside during tests and races” she handed her a badge with her picture, name and occupation, at the center of which was the MB logo, two silver gray blades in a blue and green checkered background.

  “Got it. I’ll guard it with my life” Isabella winked at her partner.

  “Good girl”

  By the time Isabella and Hillary had read all the latest magazine articles about MB, the drivers and some related to the other teams in the championship, checked all the internet sources on the matter, it had stopped raining. It was actually an hour straight now without rain and the sun kept playing hide and seek behind the clouds. Still, Isabella was happy to see some sunlight. Her gaze wondered outside, out of the big glass window that was on the race track.
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br />   Nobody was on the tarmac of course, and the track was wet and dark gray. Just behind it, in the distance, she could see little green hills of countryside. Isabella had lived in the countryside most of her life back in Italy, but never she had seen such a beautiful shade of green. All that rainwater had its magic, she could see it in that moment. She still hated to walk in the pouring rain, though.

  “Hello, I have ten minutes, tops” Mr. Jenkins stepped inside just like Isabella imagined a stampede would. His entrance was all noise and speed, as he dragged his briefcase on wheels behind him. He took a seat next to Hillary and took out his phone and gadgets. “How are we doing?” he didn’t even look up from his tablet.

  “Good, we’ve been through the press and we discussed a little on what we think should be done over the year. This is my new colleague, Isabella Bresciani. Isabella this is Mr. Jenkins” Hillary said with enthusiasm.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you” she moved towards him, ready to shake hands but his reaction stopped her cold. He got up, took her hand very briefly and looked up, only one instant before he sat back down at the table and resumed writing something apparently very important on his tablet.

  “So what we were thinking…” Hillary cut in but he raised a hand to stop her.

  “Just a minute, darling. Okay, sent” he looked up now, put his phone and any communication device on the table and this time his eyes darted straight to Isabella. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. He was looking at her like one would look at a thing to analyze and write a report on. He was taking in every detail. He let out a sigh and, after a few seconds of silence, he turned to Hillary and said:

  “Isn’t she too young?”

  And here we go again. Story of her life. Isabella had heard this all before. It took her best effort not to roll her eyes at the man. She was too young, what would she know, was she really capable of taking such responsibilities, etc., etc.

  From since she could remember, people had systematically underestimated her. Isabella’s mother had said to her once that she looked younger, naïve, that people did not see her coming and that she should learn to use it to her advantage. So far, she had failed to make it her strength. It had always been a fight, a strenuous one to prove them all wrong.

  She looked him in the eye, with a very serious expression on her face. First of all she wasn’t that young, thirty-two was not too young. Her uncle for one could easily argue back that she was actually too old for certain things. Like kids! The narrow minded twatasaurous!

  Secondly, she had had lots of experience so far, because she had started working in the field before graduation, since the age of twenty-four. Lastly, she didn’t have to prove him anything, she passed the selection process for the MB job vacancy. Period.

  Instead she said:

  “Well, thank you for the compliment. I hope I’ll still look young in thirty years or so”

  “What are you? Twenty-five?” he raised his eyebrow.

  “I am thirty-two and I have six years of experience in journalism, three of which I’ve also worked as assistant press agent for a sports company. Oh and I have a master in photography” What was he going to say to that?

  “We’ll see” he waved her off nonchalantly, setting her face on fire. Pompous prick. “Now tell me, have you decided how many releases per week or what the blog is going to be like, if you’ll handle Christopher and Noah’s social networks’ accounts or let them deal with them, helping them post certain things…”

  Hillary cleared her throat and filled him in on their meeting so far. She spoke fast, like she was being timed or something. Isabella made a face. Come to think about it, Mr. Jenkins was probably timing her somehow, seeing how busy he was.

  Isabella’s boss told him they both had agreed that a couple of posts on the blog before each race would be sufficient. They would put pictures and create albums for each race. Also, they had this idea of making the drivers’ profile, with short, fun trivia that fans could read and pictures of them in their free time. The first thing that Mr. Jenkins said to that was that he wanted to see the draft of Christopher’s profile, before posting anything online.

  Hillary showed him the graphics of the website on her laptop and he made a few changes. About social networks, Isabella and Hillary didn’t mind either way except they wanted to ask the drivers first.

  For ten minutes they spoke about the project, Mr. Jenkins never addressing Isabella directly. Hillary had tried to involve her at some point, but he had cut her off completely. Like she didn’t have a decision making role in all this. In theory, he was right. Isabella was Hillary’s assistant and if required by her superior, she could make suggestions or help her take decisions. Still, Mr. Jenkins attitude seemed rather rude. He behaved as though she wasn’t in the room.

  Anyway, Isabella knew that it was work and she had to accept this sort of things on the job. This was after all a men’s world, this one in particular. She didn’t expect to be taken into consideration by a famous, well known manager like him. She was just an assistant press agent.

  While she watched him speak to Hillary, Isabella also thought that, on the other hand, kindness was free, it didn’t cost anything to be polite and respectful, but she probably wasn’t worth it to him. Isabella wondered if she should remind the prick that she was in the room, too.

  Before Isabella could even consider to carry out her fantasy –fantasy about slapping the man around the room- the door opened and in came Christopher, who was talking to a very serious Noah. They had trained all morning in the simulators and were now talking about some other friend of theirs, another driver in the championship who had just gotten married.

  “Glad you could make it guys. I have to run off. Hillary has all set. See you later tonight”

  He stood, walked to the door and didn’t even bother to say anything else.

  What a prick, Isabella thought. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the leather chair.

  That wasn’t bitchy of him, like Hillary had anticipated. It was plain rude and disrespectful. From that moment she promised herself she would make it one of her life goals to show him what she was like on the job, a real fighter. Isabella had showed her last employees alright. She was going to do more than impress him, she was really going to surprise him.

  He wasn’t the first bore she had handled and put in his place, and sadly he wasn’t even going to be the last one, she knew that for sure.

  When Isabella eyes circled the room, she noticed Christopher staring at her from across the table. He wasn’t smiling or anything, just staring at her with kind eyes.

  “What?” she asked a little nervous, but she had so much steam to burn off. Isabella quickly recovered “What’s the matter?” she added kindly.

  “He’s an asshole, it’s okay you can say it” He took his hat off and smiled at Isabella. Then he ruffled his hair and kept his penetrating eyes on her. That morning because of the dark sky, they looked dark green, almost gray at times.

  “I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal. He needs time to get to know you. He’s like that. I cried for two months straight the first year I worked with him” Hillary gave her a sympathetic look and although it was genuine, Isabella didn’t want any of it. Sympathy pissed her off even more.

  Well, he’s not going to see me shed a tear.

  “Let’s just talk about work” Isabella waved it off.

  Over a light lunch, they discussed what they would be doing with the blog. Christopher and Noah both agreed to write on social networks, but they both wanted help with pictures and posts that would help promote some of their initiatives and campaigns.

  “Don’t get annoyed at Isabella and I if you see us wondering around the box before the race. Isabella will be there to take pictures and notes of those moments, too. Okay? Fans want to see that part of the race as well. We know you take some time to yourselves to concentrate, we won’t interfere with questions or any of that during those times” Hillary reassured them.

&nbs
p; “So today,” Hillary went on “Isabella and I thought we could come up with a sort of individual profile of you guys, with quotes and fun trivia about you and your lifestyle”

  On that note, the two drivers started joking around about their before race lucky rituals and Apparently Christopher walked back and forth thirty-five times, while listening to drum and base to build him up and Noah did this sort of relaxation exercise, that a yoga instructor in India had taught him, while rigorously listening to music. Isabella soon learned that all drivers listened to music before a race. It helped them concentrate and, more importantly, it assured them the isolation from the rest of the world, that they so desperately needed. Nobody dared to stop them and ask questions, when they had their headphones on.

  Isabella listened intently to Noah’s and Christopher’s conversation. It was nice to see them tease each other like good old friends, even though their competition was taken to a higher level during the championship.

  “Good thing we don’t have that stupid ritual that football players have, where they don’t change underwear for days” Noah said.

  “Liar. I know you do that, too” Christopher laughed and Isabella stared at him, captivated by his good mood.

  Before Noah could say anything back, Isabella wondered out loud.

  “Why do you walk around thirty-five times before the race?”

  Hillary looked at Noah and they both lowered their gaze. Noah cleared his voice and pretended to ask Hillary something about the blog, but in reality he was looking at Christopher and waiting for his reply.

  “It was the number on my father’s car” he said to her. They looked at each other for a few seconds without saying a word. “He also died when he was thirty-five. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Isabella mentally slapped herself. What was it with her and this incredible ability of hers to ask the most inappropriate question ever?

  “I thought there was a silly explanation, like thirty-five was the number of heartbroken girlfriends you’ve had …” Isabella was mortified. She could tell from the atmosphere in the room that Christopher’s father’s death was a touchy subject and everyone seemed to know that, but somehow she seemed not to have gotten the memo. She so wished she could take it back. Or at least become an ostrich and stick her head below ground, to hide her embarrassment.