Debutant. Chapter 8. Wine and betrayal. Part 2

This novel is fictional; there is no need to look for intersections with historical events. This is a continuation of “Debutant” by Nikita Savelyev, the first readers of which were readers of F1News.ru…

Chapter 8. Wine and betrayal. Part two

They walked from the bedroom to the living room, Henry carefully lowered himself into a chair, Sandra sat on the couch and casually crossed her legs. The long neckline of the dress parted to reveal beautiful hips. Henry took a deep breath.

“You did well today,” Sandra praised.

“We were lucky at the start,” Henry said modestly. “I cannot forgive myself for this mistake.” It turned out to be stupid.

– Nonsense. Don’t beat yourself up. The most important thing is that I didn’t break anything.

“I’m lucky,” Henry smiled.

“It’s a shame, such an opportunity may not come around again.”

– Why is this?!

– Do you think there will be an accident at the start of every race?! Whatever it is. In other phases we will return to our previous positions. I’ve been here longer than you, I fully understand that using last year’s components is a flawed path.

– What if you go bankrupt and end up buying the latest motorcycle model?

– But no one will give away a new chassis – who is interested in creating competitors for themselves? Manufacturers realized this very quickly and now only sell junk to the outside world.

– Is it really a dead end?

Edward was a little late. As always,” Sandra smiled bitterly. – Over the past decade, racing has been full of wealthy eccentrics, aristocratic amateurs and cars that were built on their knees. Nobody really thought about aerodynamics. The main thing was considered a more powerful engine. Now everything is according to science.

– Why don’t you want to build a car yourself? – Henry asked a question that had interested him for a long time.

“Uh, Henry, Henry, you’re too naive,” Sandra laughed heartily, and he suddenly realized that she wasn’t sober either.

– Why? – Henry was genuinely indignant. – You yourself talk about new times, the car manufacturers have disappeared – the time has come for small businesses. Is Crocus a huge undertaking? Or Thomson? They have several dozen employees. Stanton actually builds a car in his personal garage.

– Who will build the car for us? – Sandra smiled drunkenly, Henry imagined it, or her look turned playful. – Whatever you say, we need a skilled designer, engineers, staff and equipment. Who’s going to look for them?! Do they have to be paid? It is easier to buy a car externally.

The wine in her glass ran dry. It turns out that Sandra bravely finished her dose, like a real cowboy. Henry didn’t even have time to blink. He stood up to pour more, but by some instinct he did not flop back on his chair, but next to his conversation partner. It turned out to be very casual.

– Isn’t it better to spend money, but try to compete for prizes, and not to be at the end of the pack? – Henry asked cautiously.

– For this you either need the talent of a designer or the ability to select people. And my poor husband…has nothing like that,” Sandra turned serious for a moment, pursed her lips, and then burst out laughing. – Just boundless love for racing.

– You too? – Henry finished his glass and began to smoothly move inch by inch towards his interlocutor, weakly listening to her speech.

– And I have? – Sandra threw her head back so that her beautiful hair flew over her shoulders. “Where Edward goes, I go too, it has been that way for twelve years.” From spring to autumn we travel around Europe as traveling artists – official races, non-event races, sports marathons, tests. No life, but constantly moving. At first you think – traveling, this is so great! When you, as a tourist, explore the sights at your leisure, and are not stuck in the fierce wind, and in the hellish heat, and in the annoying rain on the race track. And in his hands he has a crazy stopwatch. This is our life, there will be no other, but if only you knew how sometimes you want peace.

At this point Henry’s maneuver was successfully completed; he was already close to Sandra. There was a silence, their eyes met, mischievous devils danced in Sandra’s eyes. Henry had invisible hammers pounding in his temples and felt feverish. He had never had such a beautiful woman. Solid country simpletons, waitresses and flower girls. And Sandra is an elite person, strong, smart and talented. Beautiful Monetti in the world of women, may she forgive this comparison. The boss’s wife and the only benefactor in the world? I do not mind.

Their faces were only a few inches apart. A wonderful aroma came from her velvety skin. Henry put the glass down without looking. One of his hands made a simple path and lay on the narrow waist, without encountering the slightest resistance, the second carefully wrapped around the neck, seductively half-opened lips were already very close…

A strong palm pressed sensitively into Henry’s chest.

“And you’re more treacherous than I thought,” Sandra pulled back abruptly, straightening her messy hair. “I took advantage of the moment, you natural snake.”

“I…I don’t…” Henry muttered, red as a lobster, and jumped up from the couch.

“He was just brave,” Sandra laughed. -Where has everything gone?

What must we do? What must we do?! She will complain to her husband, and Henry will be ready, you are not even from the principality, there will not be enough for a ticket, unless you go to the dock to beg the yachts.

“You’re not a timid person,” Sandra looked sideways at the half-open bedroom door. – Or just a fool? No, there’s still something inside you. I still can’t figure out what exactly. This rarely happens to me.

You should answer sarcastically and bitingly so that she understands that he is not just a guy with whom you can mockingly joke. But as luck would have it, nothing came to mind.

“We had a nice chat, Henry, but you have to go,” Sandra smiled at him. – Good things come in small packages. When the man is sleeping in the next room, it’s some kind of bad vaudeville. Pouting? Don’t be offended,” she patted Henry on the cheek. “I also have to speak out, I am a woman after all.”

Sandra noticed Henry’s anguished look and pointedly put a finger to her lips:

“I’m good at keeping secrets, don’t worry.” Thanks for the business.

Henry rolled out of the room feeling as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him. The damn wine is to blame: he barely drinks, and that smile is hers. Fascinating. A real cobra. After all the experiences, the alcohol immediately disappeared, but unexpectedly I wanted to add something, and Henry rushed to the hotel bar without further consideration.

Not being used to it, it was difficult to push the strong bourbon from my throat to my stomach, but when it became comfortable there, a pleasant warmth spread through my veins and peace came over me. Henry drank the second helping slowly, diluting it liberally with soda, needing to sort out his frayed nerves. But what is Sandra like? Damn thing. I played with him like a puppy, but is he really a puppy?!

Henry looked around; not far away, a young lady in an elegant colorful dress sat behind the counter. Seems okay. It’s strange that she’s alone, but she doesn’t look like a professional – Henry saw them at home. Something was still boiling in the blood, and Henry bravely and without hesitation jumped from the chair towards the girl. Very young, big eyes on a broad, trusting face, slightly old-fashioned hairdo, hands fiddling with simple beads on her neck.

– Do you find it annoying to be alone? – Henry blurted out a terrible platitude. – Speak English?

It turned out that she spoke a little, with a nice French accent. She turned out to be from Nevers, probably a village. I came with my friends to hang out on race days. Where are our friends? We met some gentlemen and proceeded with the banquet. And you, beautiful, it means you were unlucky, you didn’t have enough for all the gentlemen.

“And I’m a racer,” Henry said casually.

– Really and truly? – the already big eyes widened. – Real?

“What else,” Henry laughed.

– You’re not lying? Racer?

– Naturally. Would you like me to tell you about gear ratios, accelerators and direct transmission?

– Say it better: were you at the ball?

– What is there to do? – Henry cringed. – An extremely first class event. All toasts are carbon copies and the lines are written down to the minute. Boredom. I prefer a relaxed atmosphere. I recently returned from a friend’s hunt. The biggest one, have you seen it? Santa Monica. They gathered at sea, but I am a pilot, I have a regime. That’s why I went to live where it was quieter.

– Do you know the prince too?

– Naturally. Not close of course, but we know each other.

– Oh great! How are things in the palace?

– Very nice.

– Is it true that everything is in gold?

– They exaggerate, but of course there is plenty of genius.

– How interesting! – the simpleton was delighted. – Do you want to tell me more?

Absolutely, I’ll explore it myself first.

“If you want, let’s go to my room,” Henry suggested cheerfully. – From the balcony there is a breathtaking view of the pier itself, let’s admire it. I also have excellent wine.

You can order alcohol discreetly from the receptionist, but from the balcony you have a view of the wall of the adjacent building. Let’s hope that once they get into the room, they don’t get there anytime soon.

Henry sat up, straightened his back, and that was when his gaze fell on his reflection in the mirror on the wall. Is it still him or not? A hapless mechanic, an aspiring criminal, a cowardly fugitive, a young racer, a seducer of other people’s wives, a deceiver and an adventurer. Who is he anyway? Can one person hold so many faces? How could he do so much?! Will he be able to break out of the web of lies he has woven around himself?!

Is it really necessary to do this today? Are we in a fairytale state or something? We should at least grab a little bit of the holiday! Didn’t he deserve it?!

== To be continued…