Drifting Deception

Chapter Four

HENRY

"Don't be late," Maurice snapped before the repeated sound of my phone's end tone filled the silence.

I sighed. Maurice and I were on the border of being good mates with these stupid weekly meetings he was organising for me and the team.

The last two had been completely pointless as well.

Don't stay out until three and get yourself filmed diving into the harbour.

You were with three different women and posted three times on a Formula One WAG page.

If you're going to go drinking on a Friday night before qualifying, at least don't walk out of the bathroom looking like you've snorted cocaine.

All I was hearing was that I wasn't allowed to live my life and enjoy my fucking twenties. And I hadn't done cocaine that day. I'd had a lot of alcohol, yes. But I've never touched a drug in my life.

I put my phone on charge and stepped into the shower. The cold water stung my face as I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair. I had no idea what Maurice wanted to talk about this time, but I could bet a hundred dollars the meeting would go the same as it always did.

"Henry, thanks for joining. Please take a seat."

You've been photographed doing blah blah blah. You need to stop the blah blah. Or else the blah blah blah.

"Yes. Okay. Thanks, Maurice."

I arrived at the circuit and headed straight for the upstairs office. Maurice didn't need to tell me where to meet up anymore. His office was starting to become my second home. And it had only been a month since the season started.

I pushed the door open, hearing the hinge rattle above my head. Four heads turned to face me as I entered the room, only one of them familiar.

"Henry, thanks for joining. Please take a seat," Maurice said.

I fucking told you so.

It was odd that our intimate gathering was being imposed on us by three random strangers, but I guess this was Maurice's tactic. Maybe he thought I'd feel more embarrassed with three spectators watching our debacle. I sat in my usual seat, feeling slightly odd now that I was sitting eye to eye with said spectators.

The woman frowned at me. She had a short, blonde bob and was emanating the energy of an angry woman who always asked for the manager. Her floral dress clung to her body and her eyes were a piercing blue. I knew that because she held the strongest eye contact of all three.

The other two were men. The one directly opposite me had jet-black hair, slicked back so much that it almost looked greasy. His button-down had a coffee stain, and his glasses were foggy. But he was smiling. The only one in the room smiling, in fact. Next to him, an older man sat. His face was skinny, with dimples that would appear kind if he wasn't frowning so damn hard. He wore a double-breasted suit with a full Windsor tie. His hand clutched a large folder that was neatly labelled with my name, but only God knew why. I had a big feeling I was about to find out, however.

"Now, Monica, John and Jason have requested for this meeting to take place," Maurice began. "I figured we held it before free practice began." 

I still didn't know why this was happening in the first place, but to keep the peace, I nodded.

"Henry," the lady, who I could only assume was Monica, began. "I'm the CEO of Ritz Entertainment." Our biggest sponsor.

"We're here to talk about the news articles that have been appearing lately." She adjusted in her seat before placing her hands on her crossed legs. "Your actions have raised serious eyebrows in the board room. We are a child-friendly company and there are worries that our association with you is going to affect our brand image."