“You know how much I earned? Twenty million. I’m paying for the fucking tickets.”
I lean back, meeting his eyes. “Okay,” I placate.
I quickly look at Ticket Counter Guy, who’s definitely trying to pretend he’s not listening.
With a winner’s smile, Carrick hands over his credit card to Ticket Counter Guy.
When we’ve paid, Ticket Counter Guy tells us we need to give our tickets to the karting marshal.
We’re just about to head in when Ticket Counter Guy says, “You’re…Carrick Ryan, right?”
I see the dismay flash through Carrick’s eyes. It was silly to think Carrick could come here and not be recognized.
Carrick steps back to the counter. “Yeah…but I’m just here to have some fun with my friend. So, I’m not here, okay?”
“Okay,” Ticket Counter Guy says. “But can I get your autograph?”
“Sure,” Carrick says on a smile.
“Will you sign my cap?” Ticket Counter Guy pulls off the Formula 1 cap he’s wearing.
Carrick nods, and Ticket Counter Guy hands it over along with a marker.
“You a racing fan?” Carrick asks while he signs his name.
“Huge fan. Me and my younger brother always watch on TV. You’re our favorite. My brother’s gonna be gutted that I met you, and he didn’t.”
“You ever been to the Prix?” Carrick asks.
“No.” Ticket Counter Guy pulls a face of discomfort. “Tickets are too expensive for a guy who works on the counter at the karting ring.”
I feel a little pull in my chest.
Carrick must feel it, too, because he says, “What’s your name?”
“Sulaiman.”
“Nice to meet you, Sulaiman.” Carrick hands him the cap and marker back. “Write down your and your brother’s names and your address for me, and I’ll have two VIP tickets couriered to your house.”
Sulaiman looks like he’s just been punched in the face—in the best kind of way.
“Really?” he asks wide-eyed.
“Really.” Carrick smiles.
I’m watching Carrick, intrigued, and I can see it in his eyes—how making other people happy makes him happy.
Now, I get it—why he has to pay for everything. It’s not about showing how much money he has. It’s about being able to make other people feel good with his money.
There’s a big softy buried underneath all that alpha and sexual ego.
And it just pulls my heart straight in his direction. I’m currently having a hard time keeping a hold of it.
Sulaiman quickly scribbles his details down on a piece of paper and hands it to Carrick, who folds it up and puts it in his wallet.
“I’ll have the tickets sent to you tomorrow,” Carrick tells him.
“Thank you so much.” Sulaiman reaches over, grabbing Carrick’s hand and shaking it. “I can’t tell you how much this means to us. My brother will be so happy when I tell him.”
“Wait till I’m gone to call him though ’cause I’m not here, remember?” Carrick taps his nose.
Sulaiman does the same thing. “Got it.”
“I’ll see you and your brother after the race.” Carrick starts to walk away, and I follow.
“Bye! And thanks again!” Sulaiman calls after us.
“That was a really nice thing you did,” I say. Walking alongside Carrick, I bump his arm with my own.
Glancing at me, he shrugs. “If it means I get half an hour of peace with you without race fans turning up, then it’s worth it.”
“I don’t think that’s why you did it. I think you saw a guy who doesn’t have much, and you wanted to make his day.”
He stares ahead, as he speaks. “I was never dirt poor like that guy back there, but we didn’t have a lot either. Everything we did have, my dad put into my racing, so I kinda know a little of what it’s like to be skint.”
I feel a swelling in my chest. I have to press the heel of my hand there to contain it.
I did know that about Carrick. He’s not your typical comes-from-a-rich-family-into-the-rich-sport driver. He came from a modest background, and both he and his dad have worked hard to get him to where he is now.
“You’re a big softy at heart, Carrick Ryan.” I nudge him again this time with my shoulder.
He gives me a look of horror. “Fuck, don’t go saying that in public. You’ll kill my image.”
“God, yeah, we wouldn’t want that to happen.” I let out a chuckle. “So, is this another secret I have to keep?”
“Hmm…I guess so.” He glances at me, a smile in his eyes.
“I’m gonna lose count of all these secrets I have to keep for you,” I tease.
“Well, if you play your cards right, you might get to be one of those secrets.”
And there he is.
I roll my eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Ryan.” I give him a little shove in the direction of the exit out to the track. “Now, get your arse out there, so I can beat it.”
“Ha! That’s definitely in your dreams, Amaro.”
“We’ll see.” Lifting my chin, I give him a haughty look as I pass him by, heading to the marshal.
Once we’ve had our safety talk with the marshal and Carrick’s signed an autograph for him, too, we’re suited up in track overalls.
We’ve definitely come on at the right time as there’s only the two of us here using the track. The karts are out waiting on the track for us.
I pull the band out of my hair, letting out my ponytail. I won’t be able to get the helmet on with my hair up like that. It needs to be tied into a plait, which is how I always wear it when I’m in a garage or at the track.