Emilio listened as Antwan outlined the specifics of the deal and made a mental note to discuss it with Sharleen. He wanted her input and wondered how she’d feel about him traveling around the world for industry events. “When will the contracts be ready?”
“In a few weeks, but as a show of good faith I think you should attend the Miami Exotic Car Show on Memorial Day weekend. Executives from Ferrari will be at the event, and they’d be stoked to see you signing autographs, posing for pictures and kissing babies.”
“Antwan, I’m a race-car driver, not a politician.”
His manager gave a hearty laugh. “Just make sure you’re in Miami for the event.”
“Maybe I’ll invite Sharleen to come,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Don’t bother. She hates the Magic City. Said the heat gets to her.”
Then I’ll just have to change her mind. Emilio liked the idea of having fun in the sun with Sharleen and decided he’d call his cousin Nicco once he got back to his car. The acclaimed restaurateur was a regular fixture on the Miami night scene, and he knew the best places to party. He’d ask his cousin to use his connections to score concert tickets, movie-premiere passes and reservations at the best restaurants in town. I’m going to go all out to impress her, he decided. And by the end of the weekend Sharleen’s going to be my lady...
“Let’s discuss how to invest your signing bonus.” Antwan sat down behind his desk and grabbed his Montblanc pen. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Pay off the tax bill, donate a million dollars to The Salvation Army and deposit the rest in my savings account.”
The pen fell from Antwan’s hand.
Anticipating his reaction, Emilio waited for the moment to pass. Emilio felt as if he’d been given a second chance, a new lease on life, and this time around he wanted to use his wealth for good.
“You’re punking me, right?” Antwan said, with a nervous laugh.
“It’s my money, and I can spend it any way I see fit.”
“A million-dollar donation is outrageous. Give them a hundred grand. That’s enough.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.”
Curses fell from Antwan’s mouth, and the muscles in his neck pulsed and twitched. “As your business manager, it’s my job to stop you from blowing your winnings. But if you continue to disregard my advice and keep spending lavishly, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Spending lavishly?” Emilio repeated, baffled by his words. “I’m not buying a private island off the coast of Belize. I’m giving money to a worthy cause, and if you don’t like it, that’s too bad.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Do what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
As casual as he could, he asked the question that had been circling his mind for weeks, the one he’d spoken to Sharleen about at length last night.
“When is the qualifying race for the World Series Racing All-Star Race? Is it too late to enter?”
Antwan’s eyebrows rose.
“I think the race will be fun, and I’d love to work with my old pit crew again.”
Antwan pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! Finally! I knew Sharleen could do it!”
Emilio frowned. “You knew she could do what?”
“Help you rediscover your purpose in life, of course.” His eyes were filled with enthusiasm, and he was so excited he was rocking eagerly in his chair. “Being a race-car driver is in your DNA, what you were born to do, and you’ll never be fulfilled doing anything else.”
To Emilio’s surprise, he agreed with the statement, knew in his heart that it was true.
“I can’t wait to share the good news on Twitter. Your fans are going to go wild.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.” Emilio stood. “I never said I was coming out of retirement, so don’t post anything online. I’ll compete in the All-Star Race, and if I place in the top three, I’ll evaluate my options.”
“You’ll win. You always do. Hell, they should just give you the trophy now!”
The men chuckled, then spent the next few minutes discussing the All-Star Race.
“Get in touch with your old pit crew,” Antwan advised. “You haven’t been to the track in years, and it’s going to take a while for you to get your skills back, so the more practice the better.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Emilio joked, pulling his car keys out of his back pocket.
“Where are you going? I haven’t told you about negotiations with Nike—”
“Another time. I’m meeting Sharleen at three thirty, and I don’t want to be late.”