Counterpoints 2 (Counterpoints #2) Page 6

  Here we go.

  “Hi” she said, approaching Noah.

  He was standing in the shade next to one of the MB engineers at the control station, sunglasses above his head, tired and looking a little annoyed. He smiled wide seeing her arrive.

  Like the Grinch on a ruined Christmas day.

  “Do you want to drink something before we speak to the press?” Isabella asked and did her best to keep her eyes on the tablet. She pretended to tick off things on her list, as Noah’s eyes examined her attentively.

  “No, thanks I just had something” his voice had a certain something to it, like he was doing everything in his power to stiffen a laugh.

  Isabella tried her best to ignore it.

  “Okay then, follow me” she looked up at him briefly and gestured to her right.

  They walked side by side in silence, until they reached a small gate, that led them through a narrow pathway. Journalists were standing on either side of it, Isabella could already see them move around nervously.

  They look like tigers that walk back and forth, eager to get their stomachs full, when they see their food coming. She bit her lip at the thought.

  Okay, maybe Isabella had gone a little over the top with the simile about journalists being like ravenous felines, but they surely looked as scary as wild cats to her.

  Something in the way they moved their microphones around like weapons and tried to talk over each other, the way they pressed on- question after question- camera straight in the interviewee’s face. It gave Isabella the creeps, scrutiny at its worst.

  “Are you sure you want to take me around for the interviews?” he smirked and Isabella’ s attention was back on Noah.

  She heard him smile without looking up, while he said the words.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, her voice flat.

  He raised his hands up defensively and followed her through the gate.

  Five minutes into the interview, Isabella had second thoughts.

  Maybe it was a good thing journalists were feral like tigers, when they came across someone like Noah.

  I for one would like to bite his head off after this one.

  He was being rude and answering to the questions with simple ‘yes ‘ and ‘no’, with a bored expression on his face, like he couldn’t care less.

  Isabella held on to the recorder, tightening her grip as the minutes went by, dreading the moment she would have to sum up the interview and his performance of the day on the blog.

  “You said that you are satisfied with today’s result Noah but your best lap wasn’t that fast. We got a feeling none of the cars were actually performing that well with all the heat today. Do you think heat will be a problem tomorrow as well?” a journalist from the official First Category Racing Network asked.

  Please articulate something nice, Isabella looked at Noah with hope, but zero expectations.

  “Well, of course I am not completely satisfied. I know the car had more potential today, I could have finished my lap a few seconds faster at least. But the qualifying session is tomorrow so… I am not so worried about it” he shrugged.

  “Would you like to say something to the journalist that wrote an article about you on the latest issue of Speed magazine?” another journalist asked.

  A puzzled look registered on Noah’s face.

  He hadn’t read it, of course. He didn’t read anything that concerned him. It was self-preservation and - all in all- he considered it pointless information. He couldn’t care less about strangers’ personal opinions.

  “I haven’t read it” he shrugged.

  “He referred to you as- I quote- ‘an overestimated driver, who has only a few years left in the sport and is lucky enough to have a great car” the journalist read through his notes.

  Noah let out a small laugh and looked away, while gathering his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes.

  “I think age is irrelevant when you continue to get positive results with the car. I won the last race. I don’t have a famous surname or a strong sponsor that buys me a free ticket to the best car in the Championship” Noah paused “I think facts speak louder than words” he smiled, a bitter smile.

  “Ah but the last race you won was in Cannes, when your team mate went out” a young, female journalist commented.

  “I am not following you” Noah shrugged and looked around unenthused.

  “It’s easy to win when the other best car of the championship is out, don’t you think? No real challenge there” the journalist insisted.

  She has guts to speak to him like that despite his scary serious face, I have to say. Isabella’s eyes went wide.

  “Easy” Noah shook his head and smiled a bitter smile “I’d like to see you try”

  Isabella cleared her throat and told the journalists there was time for one more question only.

  Better wrap this disaster up.

  “When you said you don’t have an important surname, were you thinking as opposed to other drivers- like your team mate perhaps- or was it a criticism of the sport in general, that there is some sort of nepotism within First Category?” another journalist asked, sensing a juicy news in between the lines.

  Noah gave him his best fake smile and waved to everyone, ignoring their protests and further questions.

  The journalist had pushed all the wrong buttons. Fine, Isabella admitted it to herself.

  Even if pushing the wrong buttons with Noah is a very easy thing to do.

  But maybe Noah could have said something to make amends, to turn a presumptuous question into a cool answer.

  Noah could have said he was merely referring to himself, not to others being favored in the sport. It was the journalist that had implied he was just lucky to drive one of the fastest cars in the championship, that there was no talent involved.

  He could have explained that what he had said after that, was to point out how it was all about talent, that having an unfamiliar surname in the sport and still making it to a top racing team, surely meant he had deserved his place at MB.

  Or something like that, without dumping crap on others.

  “This way” Isabella said, her heart pounding in her chest.

  She felt her stomach tie in a knot, while they walked towards the exit route, her mind still processing Noah’s words.

  That interview and his whole attitude towards the press made him look bad, it made MB look bad and Isabella knew that he could get into trouble for it.

  They walked through the exit, down another pathway and Isabella hoped Hillary would already be there waiting at the car pick up location, ready to jump into a van together and take their tired bottoms to the hotel.

  She’ll hear the recording and she’ll say something to Noah.

  Isabella eyed him to the side, an unmistakable look of disapproval on her face.

  Noah hadn’t lied to her, when he had said he wasn’t interested in being friends with any of the drivers. He wasn’t going to be a hypocrite and pretend to support his colleagues, he had said. Noah wanted to win, he wanted to be the fastest driver, always. And he was willing to do whatever it took.

  Maybe he did push Christopher out intentionally in Cannes, her mind couldn’t help but wonder.

  Deep down, Isabella felt his earlier rant with the press had been about Christopher.

  Let’s face it.

  Christopher had a very important surname in the field- and a rather difficult inheritance to handle. But he was also fast and passionate about racing. Despite his ups and downs, he had always been guided by a strong desire to win, just like his father James.

  Christopher was already a world champion, unlike Noah who had to still win his first.

  Isabella shook her head and made a sound.

  “What?” he asked, finally noticing Isabella’s stern face.

  “What do you mean what?” Isabella shook her head again and kept up her pace.

  “Do you have a problem with what I said?” he asked.

  Isabella looked at him br
iefly, giving him the best uncaring face she could manage.

  “You don’t seem to care about what other people think” Isabella said, her voice firm.

  “I don’t” he nodded “But I can tell you have a strong opinion about what I just said”

  “It’s not my opinion you should worry about” Isabella’s head turned his way “Hillary and Mr. Johnson will hear this recording and they’ll read your words on the papers. Other drivers will too. And it won’t look good, for you and for MB”

  Noah went quiet. He let Isabella finish talking and waited a few instants, just to see if she was done, if she was going to add something else.

  “Are you criticizing my approach with the press in general, my personality, my attitude or is this because you have others best interests’ at heart?”

  Isabella gaped at him.

  Why don’t you just say what you want to say.

  “I have MB at heart. I think you should weight your words and not jeopardize the atmosphere of the team”

  “I’m a very honest person. If anyone has a problem with that, so be it” he said and Isabella almost snorted.

  “You can be honest without offending the people you work with, Noah” she informed him. “You can’t just walk around and be impolite to everyone”

  “The reporter just offended me, saying that I am too old for this sport, implying that I have no talent and just a great car on my hands. That I won a race just because my team mate was out of the game. But that’s okay, isn’t it?” his voice was harsh.

  “There are other ways to answer those sort of questions” Isabella wanted him to know but Noah wasn’t done talking.

  “How long do you think I have left in First Category, Isabella? I’ll tell you. Maybe one year, two tops. Why should I care about hurting others when they are already giving me the boot?”

  “Nobody is giving you the boot” she said, shaking her head to stress her point.

  Not yet anyway, unless you stop being such a jerk to everyone.

  “You have little experience in this sport. You don’t realize how quickly things change around here, how rumors spread” he shook his head “I am literally sitting on a hot seat”

  Noah’s jaw tensed and he went quiet. He looked the other away, searching for the rest of the group.

  “Getting worked up is not the way to stop the rumors. I have experience in that at least, trust me on this” Isabella ran a hand through her hair, as she thought of what to say next.

  “We are a team and as a team, MB is ahead in the championship. The last thing we need right now is tension” Isabella went on.

  She tried to address the problem in another manner, hoping Noah would truly grasp the importance of her words. See things as a whole, not stopping to analyze the detail.

  The bigger picture was what mattered at that point, the only thing he needed to concentrate on. Score as many points as possible, by pushing hard during the race and leave the silly gossip out of that vehicle, out of his head while he did so.

  “Is that why you have been hanging around with him alone? Were you bothered about tensions inside the team on the airplane ride here, too?” his lips curled up a little in a bitter smile.

  Isabella froze into place “If you have something to say to me, just say it Noah”

  Her face hardened as she waited for him to speak, thinking she had just wasted her time trying to talk some sense into him. He wasn’t going to listen to her.

  “This thing you are doing with Christopher is none of my business but it will blow up in your face. Believe me, it will” even though Isabella wasn’t looking at him- she was scanning the surroundings for Hillary- she could tell his eyes were on her, checking every little movement of her face.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. Maybe you need to rest and lay down a little, must be the heat” Isabella said, avoiding his stare.

  “You know what I am talking about” he said. “I am not an idiot”

  Then Isabella felt Noah’s words pierce her skin. They dug in slowly, cold as ice, leaving her numb and fragile.

  “You stand here giving me advice on my career, on what I should do or say. Well I have some advice for you to. You will jeopardize your position here at MB, if you don’t stop this now” he paused and shook his head “I really thought you were smarter than that. Do you really think you are the first one? Christopher has been involved with people he worked with before…”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about” her heart was racing.

  Isabella’s eyes grew wide when she spotted Hillary, next to Phil and John, waiting for the cars to pick them up.

  Hillary waved and gestured to move in her direction.

  Isabella resumed her walk and Noah followed, hands in his pockets.

  “And you don’t know what you are getting yourself into, believe me I have known him since we were kids”

  How did this conversation become about me? Isabella gaped at Noah.

  “Okay, enough” Isabella said, her voice upset.

  They had almost reached the rest of the group, when Isabella spotted Christopher standing right behind Hillary.

  He was looking their way, sunglasses still on, his expression impossible to read.

  “Listen to me” Isabella turned, a look of determination on her face “You don’t want my professional advice, fine. Do or say what you want. Pretend I didn’t say a thing. Hillary and I will hold it together and fix the damage. But what I do or don’t do with my private life is personal. I surely don’t need your insight” she kept her eyes on his “Just please stop being an asshole to everyone or else prepare for the consequences”

  Chapter 5

  The food tasted amazing. Isabella chewed slowly, savoring the taste of her lasagna like it was cut in little bits of heaven.

  It is heaven.

  When was the last time she had had a proper meal that involved pasta? Too long ago to remember. It wasn’t just because of the travelling, her mind had been on a completely different page.

  On comfort food, fast and fat. She hadn’t been into cooking proper meals.

  I’ll consider this my birthday meal, like a birthday present from me to me, Isabella thought.

  She checked her watch. It was her birthday in Italy already and her phone had probably been buzzing all over the place, if only she hadn’t left it at the hotel.

  I need vitamins for my memory, that’s what I really need for my birthday. I am getting old!

  How weird it was for her, to practically reach the point where she almost ignored her birthday, when just a few years ago she would have waited for this day like it was the most important thing in her life, to celebrate with her loved ones.

  Now It almost passed my mind.

  Isabella looked up from her plate and listened to John tell her all about his holidays in Italy, when he was younger. He had travelled all around the country, from the north east side all the way down south to Sicily, then up again to the north west coast. It had been one of the best road trips ever, he said.

  She smiled at him and listened to his stories, doing her best to ignore what was happening in the background.

  Isabella could see the city of Toronto from the wide glass windows of the CN Tower. The view was breathtaking, it was something she had never experienced before.

  Like eating dinner on a cloud.

  She looked back at John and then her eyes went quickly behind his back, slightly to his right, exactly where Christopher was sitting.

  He was staring at them.

  “…so we had to change the hotel and we ended up in this cool camping and the sea was so beautiful. We stayed there for a whole week in the end” John went on. “You come from there, don’t you? Near Rome, but on the coast right?”

  “Yes, my house is a fifteen minutes’ walk to the beach” Isabella nodded and took another bite of her lasagna.

  Her eyes went back to Christopher for a moment and Isabella chewed slowly, the mouthful feeling incredibly big to swall
ow all of a sudden.

  He had been texting with his phone a lot all evening.

  Who cares?

  What was it people usually said about getting older? It wasn’t about aging but all about becoming wiser.

  I must be going backwards then, because I kissed a cheater a few days ago and now I am lying to myself about not caring who he is texting with. Fantastic.

  Isabella frowned and played with her food.

  The people on the other side of the table raised their glasses and so they all stood up. Everyone that worked in the box was there, everyone except Noah.

  Maybe it was because of the row they had had earlier that day, but Isabella noticed immediately he had been missing.

  “Tired” Tom his engineer had waved it off.

  There was a moment of commotion when Hillary came back to the table, actually ran back to the table- after a phone call- not wanting to miss out on a toast.

  “To MB, we are number one” Alex - one of the MB development managers- said and they all cheered.

  Isabella took a sip of her drink and watched John gulp down his a little too quickly, his hand shaky on the glass.

  He’s nervous about something, she realized.

  “So, can I take you out when we get back to London? We don’t live that far, you know. We could go to a pub and have a drink or dinner if you are up for it”

  Isabella bit her lip and wished she could reach for her drink again and have another sip, before answering John’s question. But she kept her hand on the fork and tried her best to give him a warm smile.

  “John” she started and watched Christopher turn her way again. He had been talking to Fred a second before, now he was back at staring her.

  Don’t look at me now.

  “John” she started again “We can go out for drinks whenever you want, but I’d like us to be friends” she made an apologetic face.

  “Oh” he smiled awkwardly “Are you still seeing someone?” he asked and his eyes betrayed him. They were on Hillary for just an instant, but it was enough for Isabella to understand.

  She must have told him I wasn’t dating that someone, anymore.

  ‘Someone’ being Christopher, the one sitting just behind John’s shoulders.