A SECOND CHANCE MAY BE TOO HOT TO HANDLE
They say there are no second chances, and for Lily Onassis, ever since she walked away from Formula World driver Max Becker, she's considered this true. Instead of a glitzy, glamorous life on the auto racing...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LILY
It's our third night in Austin, and I can't say with confidence that the week is going well. The only high points have been my daily coffee meetings with Anh, who has tried to catch me up on the gossip. Unfortunately, since we're both busy, that's only taken about an hour out of each day.
Tonight I'm at yet another party, again wearing my boots. Only this time they're paired with a little cream minidress, something billowy and boho that my mother would approve of. I've added a chunky gold bracelet.
I spot Max by himself for the first time tonight. He's leaning on the iron railing of the terrace, his silhouette framed by the city's skyscrapers. The entire outdoor lounge area smells like chlorine from the pool and exhaust fumes coming from the street below, tinged with expensive cologne. It's so hot that the scents hang in the air, heavy and oppressive, kind of like how the team feels after Max's dismal practice today.
I approach and mimic his stance but say nothing. Maybe it's because we're looking over the street, or because there's a pool behind us, or due being smack in the middle of the city, but it's swelteringly hot, even for nine at night. My cotton dress feels sticky against my back.
"I was going to say something about the weather, but it's pointless," he says softly.
His tone tells me everything I need to know: he's despondent about today's practice.
He glances at my hands. "Would you like me to get you another drink?"
"Thanks. But no. I'm thinking about heading to my room. This heat is sapping what's left of my energy."
I'm greeted with silence. There's no point in ignoring the obvious.
"Max, what happened today during practice? It wasn't the car."
He shakes his head while staring at the skyline. The light from the buildings gives enough illumination for me to see the angles of his face, the stern furrow of his brow, and the slight downturn of his lush mouth.
"It was all me."
"I see." But he'd done so well in practice on Tuesday. Yesterday wasn't so great, and neither was today.
"I got about an hour of sleep last night. Today I wasn't at the top of my game. I'm sorry."
That's when it hits me. He'd done so well on Tuesday because he'd gotten great sleep.
Next to me.
"You've overcome the sleep issue before. How did you do it?"
"I worked with a sleep specialist. And was doing so damned well until..."
He looks at the bottle of sparkling water in his hands. The muscles in his jaw bunch and he looks on the verge of regret. He shakes his head staring at the skyline. His face is a silhouette cut from marble, a perfect beauty that would've inspired Michelangelo.
