“I’d like to start outside, if that would be possible, so Chip—oh, this is my assistant for the day—Chip Smith.”
“Pleasure,” Caleb says, nodding at Chip in acknowledgement before shifting his attention back to me.
“Anyway, I’d like to start with me entering the motorhome from the outside,” I say. “So you can give me all your impressions, explanations, et cetera, and then I can go back and film. Catherine has already shown me around, but I’ll gather more information and interesting details from you as we go through the motorhome, then Chip and I will be ready to shoot.”
Caleb studies me for a moment. “Would it help you if I was part of the tour?”
I blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”
A playful smirk begins to form at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I show you around, answer questions, Chip films it.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Are you saying you want to be a part of my story?”
“If you want me to, yes. I’m willing to go on camera for you.”
WHAT? It’s all I can do not to give one of those dramatic gasps of complete surprise.
“But you don’t do this type of content,” I point out.
He lifts a brow. “Have you studied my content, Ms. Foley?”
I flash him a winning smile. “I study all F1 drivers’ content, Mr. Collings. Not just yours. But it doesn’t take me long to go through your content because all you do are the drivers’ press conferences.”
It’s true. Caleb sits on that couch on Thursdays when he’s required to do so, answering questions given to him by the international media. When he gets on the podium, he talks to the media after the race, and of course, he’s filmed with the other drivers in the cooldown room. He makes the required media appearances.
And that’s it.
From watching these things, I know Caleb is guarded. He’s most comfortable answering questions about racing. But when a reporter asks him something not related to racing? Caleb gives a monosyllabic answer … or refuses to answer at all.
And he’s nearly nonexistent on Collings Motors’ social media channels outside of racing interview clips. I’ve always wondered why.
If I can get him to do this tour with me? On camera, answering questions? It would be a complete coup for The Downforce Network.
It might be just the thing to get me a position with them covering F1.
“You know I don’t do these things,” Caleb says, interrupting my thoughts. “But I’m willing to do it for you.”
As tempting as it is to immediately agree to this before he changes his mind, I can’t. Not when I suspect I’m the reason he’s agreeing to do something he obviously loathes doing.
“Are you offering because of what happened in the conference room? As much as I appreciate it, please don’t feel like you have to do anything further on my behalf, Mr. Collings.”
“Caleb,” he says firmly. “Call me Caleb.”
“All right. You do not have to be on camera giving me a tour, Caleb. What happened back there has been resolved to my satisfaction.”
“Really? Because it hasn’t been resolved to mine. Yet,” he says, his mouth drawing tight.
“Regardless,” I say, wanting to move on, “you don’t have to give me an interview.”
He studies me shrewdly. “You mean that, don’t you, Isla?”
Why do I feel my pulse quicken when I hear my name roll off his lips?
I quickly bat that uncomfortable realization away. “Of course I mean it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“Then it’s settled. I’m doing it.”
I’m getting an interview with Caleb Collings.