I check Natalia’s expression, trying to decrypt it, but she gives no more than the Aphrodite statue in the garden. “I thought you flew out this morning and left the car at the airport,” I tell Sage.
“Wellllll…” she drawls, coming to lean against the arm of my chair, tiptoeing one hand up my shoulder with her natural, playful physicality, “that was the original plan, yeah. Then I met these cool cats who’d just flown in—locals. They recognized me and we got to talking, and I waved off on my flight and hung out with ’em all day. Ooh, and guess what?”
Her feet tap the flagstones in a little dance, and her grip digs into my bicep.
“I bought a sweet-ass twenty-one-foot Sea Ray this afternoon, and Nic and Theo and Penny and Kass—those are the new friends—are gonna boat with me back to Athens. There’s a shitload of cool islands to visit en route.Waaaaymore fun than flying.” She tips her head toward the driveway. “Penny’s waiting out front to take me to the marina.”
When I throw a glance at Natalia, she’s examining Sage’s hand resting on my shoulder. Her stony glare moves to my face, and there’s a flicker of a sarcastic smile at one corner of her lips.
She jots something on the legal pad. I’m in a quandary, well aware it could be damaging gossip if she determines that I’m in negotiations with a driver from a rival team.
If I confess the offer Emerald has made, can Natalia keep it a secret? Do I owe her an explanation?
I place my hand over Sage’s and hold her gaze with just enough ambiguity in my expression. “It was a delight having you.”
After a pause, catching on to my intention, Sage rolls her eyes with the tolerant smirk you’d give a child who’s hiding a stolen cookie behind their back. “Oh, Franke,” she says, her voice low but still loud enough, “don’t do that. It’s weak sauce to taunt her.” She tips a sideways nod, indicating Natalia. “Put on your big-boy pants and just tell the woman how you feel. Do everyone a favor.”
I’m mortified that she’s said this aloud, but I suppose it’s always a risk with a rebel like Sage. Feeling a contrite blush creep up my neck, I hand the ring of keys back to her. “Will you set these by the door?”
“Of course.” She twirls them around one finger and saunters toward Natalia. “Love your YouTube show, bee-tee-dubs.”
“Thank you,” Natalia replies. “I’d like to have you on as a guest sometime.”
“Little ol’ me?” Sage breathes, once again falling into the American Southern accent. “I’d be pleased as punch, y’all.” She lifts her aqua-dyed hair and piles it on her head, clicking her tongue in a thinking way. “Umm, talk to Robin Mackey at Harrier. Let’s make that shit happen.” She leans toward Natalia, offering a closed fist.
Natalia stares at it for a beat, then realizes what’s expected and bumps her own against Sage’s.
“Toodles, Franky-boy,” Sage calls over her shoulder as she heads into the house. “It’s been a blast.” Her high-heeled sandals click away across the tile. She drops the keys into a ceramic bowl in the entryway with a jingle, then goes out the door.
Natalia and I watch each other in challenge for a minute. Sage’s friend’s car starts up and drives away, gravel popping, leaving us with only the sound of the sea.
“Interesting,” Natalia finally says.
“Oh?”
She rolls her eyes, then picks up her pen. “Next question: What do you have to say about the criticism that Emerald’s new E-20 car looks like, um… how was it put?” She taps the pen cap against her lips in mock contemplation. “I believe the quote was ‘last year’s Allonby, in green drag.’ Thoughts on that?”
I shoot a squint of disbelief at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“There are a lot of people,” she continues, attention trained on the notepad, “who think it’s not just an ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery’ thing, but Emerald engineers blatantly ripping off the constructors’ champions’ car design.”
I wave her comment away like a gnat. “People always talk, every year when the new cars are revealed. It only takes on an air of scandal whenunscrupulous journalistsbang on about it.”
Her mouth pulls a quick, sarcastic downturn. “Oh dear. ‘Unscrupulous’? You sound touchy about the subject for some reason.”
I release a rueful laugh, shaking my head. “The tone of this interview, Miss Evans, turned on a dime. I wonder why?”
“So, that’s a ‘No comment’ from you?” she says with a smirk.
I lose any pretense of indulgence. “Dammit, Talia,” I grit out, gripping the arms of my chair and leaning forward. “I know what you’re doing.”
She sets her pen aside with a flip of her fingers and mirrors my posture. “No, I know whatyou’redoing.”
“Let me ask you: Will the satisfaction of punishing me outweighthe pain of punishing your best friend? Because if you behave like a petty tabloid shit-stirrer, you’re harming Phaedra far more than me.”
I’m taken aback by Natalia’s look of cold fury.
In the patio doorway, there’s a small throat-clearing noise as Elena attempts to announce her presence. Natalia and I both sit back and feign ease, murmuring polite thanks to Elena as she sets the next course on the table. The cook takes her silent leave, pulling the patio doors shut as she goes inside.
