Jump Start

3. Three

Three

Harper

M onday morning finally arrived, and I was not feeling my usual fresh self. I woke up multiple times throughout the night, which meant I would have to make an extra strong coffee to get through the day. I had never been good at mornings. I detested them. Why would anyone want to get up so early? You know those people who could happily get up early for the gym or go on a holiday? I was neither of those people. I had to admit that I was not good at hiding it, either. Those close to me knew to avoid me until I’d had at least a coffee and something to eat. Croissants were my favourite.

While I got ready, I listened to one of my favourite podcasts to help me get into the right frame of mind for the day. I packed my laptop bag and checked my hair, makeup, and outfit in the floor-length mirror I had by the door. I looked professional despite how tired I was feeling. I smiled at myself and strode out the door, feeling confident about my first day at Echidna Racing.

My journey to the Echidna headquarters was less than desirable. I rarely drove to the outer suburbs of Sydney and found myself stuck in traffic even in the early hours of the morning. My GPS guided me through a few back streets before I arrived in a seemingly rural area where the headquarters was based. I parked my car in a free spot and gathered my belongings.

As I walked in through the automatic sliding doors, I took note of the large floor-to-ceiling windows before a very well-presented receptionist smiled at me.

“Hello. Welcome to Echidna Racing. How can I help you today?” she asked politely, even standing up from her chair.

“Hello, my name is Harper Allenwright. I am here to meet with Mr Verco and Mr Henry-Jackson.” I tried to match the energy of professionalism she extended to me.

“Certainly, please take a seat. I will let Chris know you are here.”

I took a seat on the uncomfortable chair provided and kept myself busy. I checked my work emails, which was not a good idea because they were already piling up.

“Miss Allenwright, thank you for arriving so early.” I looked up to see Chris Verco standing in front of me, hand extended, so I stood to greet him.

Chris Verco was the owner and founder of Echidna Racing, which specialised in the GT3 racing category. Chris was a very well-respected man in both business and motorsport. Having owned several investment companies in a past life, racing was always his passion. His smile was warm and welcoming. He had a very impressive beard, and a bald head, and was dressed in head-to-toe sponsored Echidna gear.

“Now, I wanted to give you a quick tour before everyone arrives so you can get your bearings. It can get a little crazy here after eight a.m.”

I followed Chris through the large building and up an impressive set of stairs that led to an open-plan office area, separate driver offices, board rooms, and a canteen. Further through and downstairs was the garage, which currently had four very colourful race cars in various states of disarray. I failed to see how any of them would be ready to race in just under three weeks, which I voiced to Chris.

“I know it seems that way, however, we have a very dedicated world-class team of mechanics and engineers who will have all the cars ready to go in more than enough time.”

After my tour was over, Chris made me a coffee with the very fancy machine available to all staff. We took a seat at one of the empty tables in the canteen area and Chris’s face turned serious.

“Now, Harper, I wanted to add that Thomas can be a little difficult at times, so please feel free to pull him into line if you ever need to. I want this to be a rewarding experience for you.”

I thanked him but felt slight butterflies in my stomach at the possibility of meeting a potentially difficult subject.

Sure enough, once eight a.m. arrived, so did the many employees of Echidna Racing. The empty office area was teeming with all sorts of people arriving and turning on their computers to get started for the day. As I finished my coffee, Chris led me into one of the separate offices. He opened the door to reveal Thomas sitting on the edge of his desk, his phone to his ear, and long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He took one look at me from head to toe and then returned to his conversation. Chris rolled his eyes. “Off the phone. Now.” Thomas hesitated but obliged. “Thomas, this Harper, who will be doing the day in a life piece for The Sydney Daily . Harper Allenwright, this is Thomas Henry-Jackson.”

I moved forward, reaching my hand out to shake his, and smiled. “Hello Thomas, great to meet you. ”

Thomas did not move from his position, nor did he shake my hand. Asshole , I immediately thought.

“Now, I’ll let you two get acquainted, and Harper, remember what I said.” Chris nodded at me and left the room. I smiled after him. He had been so accommodating, which was more than I could say for the six-foot-two race car driver in front of me.

I stood in the centre of the room, my laptop bag slightly falling off my shoulder. Thomas noticed this and stood up straight, finally, then pulled out a chair for me and motioned for me to sit.

“Thank you,” I said. He nodded and rolled his office chair around to sit opposite me. “So, Thomas, tell me a little bit about what I can expect this week.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well for one, I would probably wear less dangerous heels tomorrow,” he said, completely ignoring my question.

I sat up straighter. “What does my choice in footwear have to do with anything?”

“They’re completely impractical for this place. You’re at a racing garage, not a fashion show.” His reply was quick and blunt.

“Well, thank you for the suggestion.” I folded my arms, intent on not letting this arrogant man intimidate me.

We sat in silence for a moment, neither of us wanting to speak, until finally he gave up and his expression softened just a little.

“Well, today we have a driver meeting, and then I’m going downstairs to check on my car. I also have a few media commitments via video call. Testing will start on Wednesday, so I guess you’ll be there for that, too,” he added as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, I will be here all week, but I do have other work to do, so I won’t get in your way too much,” I answered, trying to match his tone. I could tell this was going to be a long week. I unpacked my laptop and set it up on a small glass table that was in the corner of the room. I eyed off the couch towards the back wall but settled for the table.

“Mind if I set up here? I don’t want to get in your way.”

Thomas nodded and said, “Sure, no worries,” before he proceeded to shift his chair back to his side of the desk. I waited for my laptop to start up for what felt like an eternity and felt comfort when the home screen finally appeared, displaying my company’s logo.

Almost immediately, I received a message from Meredith: How goes it with the baby lamb-holding hottie?

I rolled my eyes and began to type, No sign of him here.

My thoughts were interrupted when Thomas stood and started walking towards the door.

“Driver meeting’s now,” is all he said, and proceeded to walk out the door without me.

I quickly gathered my phone and notepad and tried to trail along behind him into the conference room. As I entered the room, Chris introduced me.

“Everyone, this is Harper Allenwright from The Sydney Daily. She is doing a piece on Thomas. Please make her feel welcome. This week, she will be working from our office and then, later on, attending testing.” His introduction was met with a very warm greeting from the other two drivers and staff members .

I reluctantly sat down next to Thomas and used an Echidna-branded pen from the table to take notes.

“So, this week we need to focus on maintaining tyre preservation and driver fatigue since the first round will be an endurance race,” one of the head engineers suggested to the group.

I was fascinated by the conversation but had no idea what they were talking about. The other drivers on the team were a young reserve rookie by the name of Landon and Thomas’s teammate, Will. I noticed immediately that Will was very handsome. He was tanned with dark brown hair and brown eyes.

Will looked over at me and smiled. “You’ve got your hands full this week. If you feel like you need time with a real professional, you’re welcome to jump ship over this way.”

I nodded and thanked him; however, I felt his offer was less than savoury. Thomas had been fairly quiet during the meeting, but as I looked over at him, I noticed his hand quickly contorting into a fist before slowly releasing. Was that about his teammate’s comment? I wondered if they didn’t quite get along.

After the meeting, I returned to Thomas’s office, listened to the recording of the driver meeting, and made some of my first notes for the piece. Moments later, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Thomas reading over my shoulder.

“Will and I get along fine, actually.”

“Bloody hell! Are you right?” I asked, slamming my laptop shut.

“I just thought you’d like to know so you can make sure your story has at least some truth to it.”

I stood up to face him. “What makes you think my story won’t be truthful?” I could feel my anger brewing.

“Well, you’re a journalist. You fabricate the truth and sensationalise the rest.” Thomas concluded his statement by sitting back on his chair, arms folded in front of his chest, looking me dead in the eye.

Each time he opened his mouth, he managed to infuriate me. I leant over his desk, placing both of my hands flat on it, palms spread. “Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas ,” I sneered, “trying to intimidate me by insulting my line of work and my integrity is not the best way to start our week together. Now, you either get on board with this piece I have to write on you, or if you prefer, I can get a man assigned to this. If that is your problem. Now, I have some of my own work to do, which I think I will do in the canteen.”

I straightened back up, loudly packed my belongings, and slammed his door shut behind me, leaving him with his mouth slightly agape.

I was too furious to do any actual work and instead, ended up walking around the block to cool down. I called the one person whose opinion mattered most to me, my dad.

“Look honey, it sounds like he’s a bit of a spoilt brat. Just keep giving it to him like you are. He will realise that you are not one to be disrespected, and if he keeps being a prick, then let Chris Verco know. I’m sure he is aware of this young man’s attitude.”

Dad was right. There was no point in getting upset over the opinion of someone I was never going to see again after this week.

I walked back inside with my confidence returned but cursed my footwear. I could feel the blisters from angrily walking around the block in my favourite stiletto heels.

***

Poking my head into Thomas’s office, I noticed he wasn’t there, which meant I would be safe to set my things up again. I needed a larger screen, so I connected my laptop to his monitor and took my shoes off to offer a little relief from the pain. I had started the first few paragraphs of the story but found it increasingly difficult to be professional and objective about this man. Especially when he had been nothing but unwelcoming to me on my first day at Echidna Racing.

The door opened around three o’clock. Thomas walked in and assessed the situation—me barefoot, sitting at his desk with my belongings spread far and wide.

I stood up suddenly. “Sorry, I just—”

He cut me off. “It’s fine. I never actually use this office, so make yourself at home.”

I was taken aback by the sudden change in tune. He sat at the small glass table and picked up my stilettos in his hands. “Um, is this blood?” He motioned to my shoe with his nose.

“I got a blister when I walked around the block. It’s nothing.”

He widened his eyes and placed my shoes back on the ground gently.

“Maybe don’t go for a walk in stilettos then?” he suggested, but this time with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“I’ll admit it wasn’t the smartest choice. Tomorrow, I will be more sensible. ”

Thomas settled in with his tablet and sat back as he waited for it to sign in, arms crossed, which seemed to be a favourite gesture of his.

“I’ve got a couple of online interviews via video chat, but you’re welcome to listen in if you need,” he said.

“Oh, okay, I’ll move.” I started to unplug my laptop, but he stood and put his hand out in front of him.

“No need,” he gestured for me to sit back down and then did the same to start his interviews.

“Hi guys, how are you? Great to see you!” he said excitedly to someone on the screen.

I shook my head. So, he was capable of being a friendly human. As I listened to him speak to various members of the media, I made notes on the way he described his racing with passion, grace, and confidence. I was beginning to see that there were many layers to Thomas Henry-Jackson, and I had only discovered the first one.