“Why are you embarrassed? You’re just starting your career. Flats are expensive.”
“I have a goal to be moved out within six months of landing a full-time job. Or whenever I have enough freelancing assignments that I can move out and support myself.”
“That won’t be long now,” Caleb says.
“I actually got some sponsorship proposals based off my video with you in the garage. But I’m carefully considering those. I’ll only agree to sponsorships with products that fit into the brand I’m trying to build.”
I think of the ads I’ve seen Caleb in. He’s a brand ambassador for a high-end hotel chain and promotes a non-alcoholic beer.
He’s also the face of a super-expensive cologne, having done a sleek advertising campaign for it—and the clips from that have landed on a million Connectivity Story Share edits.
I might be guilty of watching one or two.
Or twenty.
Time to shift to the next question before I get myself into trouble and blurt out something stupid.
Like telling him how gorgeous he looked in that TV commercial.
“Who is the person you talk to the most?” I ask. “And by talk, that can be actually talking to or texting.”
His eyes light up. “Now that’s another question from you that I’ve never been asked before.”
“I think it gives good insight into a person,” I say. “When I was at college, I talked to my mom every day. I talked to my dad a lot, too—not every day, but at least once or twice a week. I also have a best friend, Hadleigh. We talk multiple times a day, every day. Even when I was at Georgia and she was at the University of Miami for school, we talked all the time.”
“I talk to Catherine multiple times a day, and not just about work stuff. We get on really well, not only as brother and sister, but as friends,” Caleb says. “I talk to my parents quite a bit. When I do online sim racing, I’m chatting with Xavier and other friends, too.”
“So your mom doesn’t have to go on social media to tell you to respond to messages,” I say, thinking of the story he told me about Mason.
He grins. “No, she doesn’t.”
“May I ask you about your family?” I ask, kicking off my shoes and tucking my legs up underneath me. “It’s okay if the answer is no.”
“I meant it when I said you could ask me anything on camera,” Caleb says. “So you can certainly ask me now.”
“How did your parents’ marriage survive that scandal? Moving past an affair is hard enough, but going through that with the media storm must have been incredibly difficult.”
I study his face as he digests this question. His lips twist for a moment, and I hope I haven’t overstepped by asking him this. But I brought it up because I want to understand his parents better.
Because I know that’s a key to understanding him.
“Mum moved to Paris after the story broke,” Caleb says, shifting his gaze down to the pattern imprinted on the carpeting as he relives his past. “Lars, of course, was terminated from the Collings Motors racing team. My dad remained in London with Catherine and me. Both my parents were devastated by it. The media interest was ridiculous. They were on every tabloid, every breakfast TV show, trending topics on social media. My family became a meme and the butt of late-night TV jokes. Every time I was on the track, I had cameras shoved in my face asking about it. Photographers wanted to get a reaction out of me, so they’d shout stuff about my idol screwing my mum, how did I feel about my mum cheating on my dad, stuff like that.
“It was god-awful,” he says, his voice dropping. “It took everything in me not to respond in the way I wanted to. My dad was gutted. He refused to take Mum’s calls, and so did Catherine, but I didn’t. Which made me feel like a traitor to my dad, but despite everything, I was a kid who needed his mum, you know?”
Caleb lifts his eyes to meet mine, and my throat tightens when I see the depths of sadness there. “It showed me how ugly the media could be. How the same people who were writing puff pieces about me the week before were ready to rip open my soul if they could get an emotional response on camera to get more clicks. It got into my head, something that had never happened before, and my driving suffered. Badly. So I told myself I wouldnever trust them again. Ever. Screw them and what they wanted. I was going to be the best race car driver, and that was all they would get from me. They’d get my performance on the track. They’d get my answers in mandated press conferences. That was it. I would never give them the power to hurt me like they did back then.”
I grow angry as I think of how the media treated his whole family. But especially Caleb, who was a kid. He had nothing to do with the situation between his parents, and never ever should have been dragged into it. I can’t imagine how painful and humiliating that was.
“You have every right to feel that way,” I say. “What happened to you waswrong. Disgusting. Completely unnecessary. I hate that you had to go through it. And more than anything, I hate that I’m part of the industry that made you feel that way.”
Caleb is silent for a moment, and I wonder if he’s changing his mind about getting to know me. If bringing up the past has reminded him of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be here with me, a member of the media.
“Yes, you’re part of the media. But you’re different. You’re the first member of the media whom I’ve trusted since that happened. I trusted you because you came into that conference room, in front of everyone, and called out Arthur. You didn’t give a damn if you were going to lose the assignment or not. Your integritymattered. I made a split-second decision to trust you because of that. And I’m glad I did.”
My heart leaps. “I had to make a decision to trust you, too. This is dangerous for my career. I know I should have told you no to tonight. I should keep you separate because of the career I desperately want and what you do for a living. But I’m so glad I told you yes.”
I practically hear my heart beating out of my chest.