Danger (The Driven World)

Pity.

I’ve sat here swimming in my own failures and misfortunes, drowning in my own self-doubt, as I think about the way Monterey must feel about me now that she knows who my father is.

When Monterey said it wasn’t my fault about my past, I couldn’t even face her. I couldn’t face the fact that she knew the truth. It pained me to see it there in her eyes. The shame from where I once grew up.

“I’m heading out. Sure you don’t need me to get you anything?” Kav calls from the doorway.

I shake my head, unable to even utter a response.

“Don’t you have that meeting today?”

I shrug. “Who cares?” I’m not going to any meeting.

“Don’t mope down here all day. Remember why you got into racing in the first place and get your ass back out there. You have a great shot at winning on Saturday.”

I glance up at him, knowing full well that what he’s saying is the truth, but I still can’t see it. How can I drive in front of millions of people who know the truth about me? How can they root for the devil’s son?

I nod and Kav taps the door frame as he stares at me for a moment. And then he keeps on staring, studying me for a minute longer before he finally leaves. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need to stop moping around and get my shit together.

Problem is, I’ve never in my life let my confidence waver, and for some reason it is tonight. I know I have a race to win in a couple of days, but that negates the fact that I’m still a wreck over someone leaking my story to the world.

I need to find that reporter and bash his face in.

I stop, blinking. No, that’s the old Danger. An epiphany dawns on me. We’ve all done bad things, but that doesn’t make us bad people. My own disappointment with my past is what drives me. It’s what makes me act out to try to overcompensate. Sure, I’ve fucked up, but it’s time for me to man up. To own my past and be the man Monterey needs. To be the man Monterey deserves.

“I’m going to race,” I call out to no one because I know Kav has already left the house. But I just need to say it.

I guess I need myself to hear it.

It’ll be hard facing everyone, being so exposed to them all, especially Monterey, but I have to take this final step. I need to do this.

First things first, I jump in my car, heading in the direction of the meeting with the PR firm.

Downtown LA is always a parking lot of cars, sitting around, waiting for lights to change that are never synced together. I weave my way through the traffic and spot the glass building off in the distance. My resolve strengthens the closer I drive toward it.

My jaw ticks as I park along the curb.

Monterey will be here.

I stare at myself in the rearview, taking in the bags under my eyes from my complete lack of sleep over the past few days. I let out a deep breath, preparing myself to take charge and do what needs to be done. When I exit the car, I straighten my suit cufflinks, knowing full well a man in a suit is taken more seriously than a man in jeans and a white tee. You need to dress the part.

I step off the sidewalk, head inside and spot Monterey right away.

How can you not?

She’s got this energy about her that’s almost tangible. It vibrates in a way that makes every head turn in a two-block radius. Her dazzling smile about knocks me on my ass, and I try to lift my lips to return the sentiment.

“You’re here,” she whispers when she sees me.

“I’m here.” I step closer to her, wanting more than anything to wrap my arms around her, but I don’t.

Two men standing behind Monterey clear their throats and step forward. Ah, the suits are ready.

“Danger Hudson, let’s get this thing started,” the taller of the two men says, leading Monterey and I to a bank of elevators. They introduce themselves, and I swear I’ve stopped listening.

We all step inside, and I try not to stare at Monterey. I know Monterey wants some sort of explanation about my past. About everything, but I don’t know what to say to her. I wasn’t ready the day the story came out about me on the Internet. And even though I’m not ready now either, I feel like she’s waiting for something.

The elevator stops on the eighteenth floor and the men lead us down a long narrow hallway. The taller one opens the door to a conference room and steps aside as we enter.

Monterey smiles and takes a seat in a leather office chair and I sit right next to her.