Attending the pre-race dinner seemed like fun on paper, but I’d done too many over the years. Still, I had to go. Keith, Ray, Nick, and Other James always looked forward to it. Free food, free booze. Ray and Keith got to take their wives out, and Nick and Other James got to try to pick up grid girls. I wasn’t relishing it, this time especially, because of my fling with Suzi. She would expect to hook up again, which, I’ll admit, I was not opposed to, but if we didn’t, she would not sit quietly if I tried to connect with one of her contemporaries. There would be drama, and I loathed drama. Which was exactly why I stayed single.
First of all, I hadn’t yet found Ms. Right. Secondly, Ms. Right Now was likely to cause trouble when she realized I was not going to settle down with her. I rarely went on second dates. It was always a one-night thing with me, and I made sure all parties were agreed on that point up front. I was not trying to get out of a commitment; I simply didn’t want a commitment at all. As long as she understood that, we’d be fine. Obviously, this didn’t mean I wouldn’t sleep with the same girl twice. It just meant we both had to understand it was never going to lead to a relationship.
I could tell Suzi was looking for something more from me. Her eagerness to stay in my room and the affectionate way she greeted me at the circuit when she returned my Maserati all pointed to her envisioning a relationship in our future, despite our agreement. No, tonight was going to be a little awkward.
Anyway, we had all worn our best monkey suits. Ray’s looked like it was from the seventies, with its huge ruffled shirt and big collar. He used to have a decent one, but that one had earned its place in history when covered in red wine by former World Champion Nicky Hayden at last season’s Portuguese Grand Prix. Nicky had been apologetic and immediately had another DJ sent to Ray; this monstrosity had been in the box. Even Ray found it funny, which was rare for our taciturn technician. I’d been meaning to take him out to get a new one, but we just hadn’t had the time. I think he secretly rather liked the thing.
I arrived to find my team enjoying themselves. Keith and Ray were in deep conversation about English soccer while their wives, Diane and Sharon, laughed and whispered together. I didn’t see their two assistants immediately, which meant they were either at the bar or trying to hook up already. The four at our table let out a big cheer as I walked up to greet them. The lovely wives really had pulled out all the stops in getting dressed up tonight. I complimented Sharon’s daring green dress and Diane’s sparkling diamond earrings, then looked around for Suzi.
Crystal, one of the pit girls, a stunningly well-formed blonde with legs for miles, definitely appeared to be checking me out, biting her lip seductively and batting her beautifully long eyelashes at me as she told me Suzi had received a last minute call for a modeling job and couldn’t make tonight. Good for her. Suzi would go a long way in her career. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel if I gave in to Crystal’s advances, though.
As the night rolled on, the crowd got louder. I did the rounds, socializing with the riders and mechanics I knew well. I had a good time reminiscing with the British rider Cal Crutchlow about our season together on Superbikes in 2010. We talked entirely about girls rather than racing. We had both been in our twenties and had a bet that involved bedding anyone, so long as it wasn’t a grid girl, that season and seeing who got the most. He'd won.
Back at our table, I noticed the drinks were running low. I made my way to the bar away from the dance floor because it seemed a little quieter and less busy. I was ordering beers for the English boys when I saw her. At first, I thought she was with Donald from Dunlop; then I realized he was a bit worse for wear and Clive from EBC was helping her sit him down. Wow, what a goddess. A sharp, alive face with large, slightly cruel eyes that helped her look more intelligent, and a thick, stunning shock of long, dark hair. And that dress—an amazing scarlet number that pulled in at the waist, dipped low between her bountiful breasts yet still proudly presented them, and curved tantalizingly over her butt. The way she moved, as well, with such confidence, like she was completely aware that everyone in the room wanted to fuck her and she was okay with that, was tantalizing. I was staring open-mouthed at her, like an idiot.