Pit Lane Persephone

Chapter 22: Seb (Part 1 of 2)

Riding down the Via Venti Settembre on my maxi-scooter at the top speed traffic allows, I weave between lanes as Lauren's body presses against my back. She's had her arms tightly wrapped around my waist pretty much since I picked her up at the hotel, making me almost regret nearing our destination.

Nigel has lost his damn mind with this fake publicity plan, but at least it means I get to hang out with Lauren. I've been looking forward to showing her one of my favorite landmarks in Rome ever since we agreed to this.

Of course I can see other benefits, too. My contract is up for renewal at the end of this season, so the chance for extra coverage is too good to pass up. Where I'll end up is uncertain. The only thing I know is that I'm not staying with Cadmium. Both Nigel and I know I'm still the best 3Prix rider in the world on paper even if there are just for two more races until this year's champ is crowned. He definitely wants me to re-up, but after winning last year's title, I set my sights on 2Prix, the next higher category in the series. There were a few teams interested in the spring, but they held off signing me because I'd been all over the rankings. I have to prove that I'm not a risk, even if it means briefly feeding the rumor mill to drive up my—and by extension Cadmium's—worth by bringing in more sponsor money from the increased visibility.

If I play this right and also manage to end the season well out on the track, it may even start a bidding war for where I'll end up. After my win in Malaysia, Pietro said that he'd gotten requests again for meetings, but as the end of this season nears, I care less and less about which team or even how much they're offering. All I want is a ride next year, which I'd take even if they paid shit.

Poor Lauren, though. She looked ready to claw Nigel's eyes out by the time he'd brought up the nickname she hated, only getting on board when I silently agreed.

That last part actually feels good.

She trusts me, in spite of everything that has happened. I know she's worried, but I think this will be good for her, too. Having to do this together will also give us a chance to talk. I missed having her around last week. There wasn't much of a chance for us to chat yesterday in the showroom, but today's outing should change that.

After turning left onto the Via dei Fori Imperiali, there's a tap on my shoulder. Then Lauren points to the huge structure straight ahead. I smile under my helmet and nod. She guessed correctly. We're going to the home of gladiator fights: il Colosseo. Of course, the nearly two thousand year old amphitheater has been used for much more including animal hunts, public executions, and even theater performances. Yet its history will always be connected to the brutal to-the-death battles between man and beast. It's also one of the city's most popular tourist sites, making it a perfect place to be seen without being too obvious about it.

Circling around to the building's east side, I turn into a narrow street and pull up on the sidewalk. After stowing the helmets under the seat and placing a lock around the front wheel, I hold out my hand. "Ready?"

"You sure?" She eyes my offer with suspicion, and now I wish I'd just stuck my hands in my pockets.

"Yes? No? It is up to you," I say, already feeling rejected. Putting on a fake show of liking each other may be harder than I thought. Perhaps I shouldn't have agreed to it, after all.

But she not only takes my hand, but also weaves her fingers through mine and squeezes. "Let's do this."

Her touch feels natural, and I hold back a grin as we run across the street at the nearest crosswalk, stopping at the edge of the pedestrian-only space around the Coliseum's perimeter. Nicola gave us a basic playbook: post on social media just enough to capture interest, then let the Internet do its thing.