A Courtesy Call (Green Division Series Book #2)

A
Courtesy Call is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, and
incidents

are the product of the author
’s

creation
and used fictitiously.

Any resemblance
to actual persons,

living or dead, is entirely

coincidental.

©
2013 All Rights Reserved By The Author

MAY

"I need a few weeks.  It
’s not negotiable." Raleigh addressed a man standing beside a large picture window in the plush office.

"I'm the manager. I decide what is negotiable, not you."

"Tom, I've been doing this for seventeen years, I've given this team everything I have. I'm asking for a couple of weeks to go home."

Tom Irving was an older gent for the business. He was in his late fifties and took on the role of a fatherly figure more than that of the team's manager. He didn't try to keep up his appearance like others in the public eye.  A nice pair of jeans and a dress shirt with no tie adorned his portly figure.  He always dressed casually and was an approachable looking man. His close cut white hair and bright blue eyes were the only attractive attributes the poor old guy had.

"Home? As in Maine?"

"I need to decompress.  Our next race isn't for another month."

"You couldn't have done this last month when we were on break? You had to wait until June? You have a new partner. You need to be with him practicing every day, all day, getting in sync, feeling each other out." He rose his brow. "Figuratively speaking."

"I'll put this in blunt terms. I've won the championship three out of the past five years I've been with this team. I am number one and your only hope of another trophy on your damn wall. I'm asking for two weeks. Two damn weeks. I'm burnt out, can't you understand that?"

"One week." Tom sat down in his plush leather chair. "And you'll be back here for the following three weeks in that car every day with Jon."

"Two weeks, or you can kiss my ass and I'll walk out that door right now. We both know you need me more than I need you. I can walk into Scotta’s office tomorrow and get a ride. Try me."  Subaru and Team Irving emblems adorned Tom's office. Scotta was a rival team in France.

Tom stared over his laptop and accessed her threat.

"Anyone can drive Raleigh, the only asset you have is you are marketable."

"You are such a tool." She hated that term.
Marketable
.  She turned and walked to the glass exit doors of Tom’s massive office.

"Are you taking someone with you?"

"No."

"You'll take Aiden with you."

"Excuse me, sir?" An impeccably well-dressed man piped up from the corner where he’d been seated. His British accent made him sound as proper as he looked. He was all of twenty-three, but acted very mature for his age. His tailored gray suit, black wing tips, and short slicked back brown hair gave him an air of class. Far more than Raleigh. 

"I don't need a babysitter," she retorted.

"I'd have to disagree following the incident in Pennsylvania. And so would the woman our team cut a large settlement check to, to make your incident go away."

"She deserved it," Raleigh said sharply.

"Yes, she did. But, that excuse wouldn't have flown with a judge. Luckily Aiden was with you that night to whip out the checkbook."

"I don't want Jeeves to come with me." She looked over at Aiden. "No offense." Due to his British accent and impeccable manners, she'd nicknamed him Jeeves. Aiden was her assistant, but his primary function was to be a voice of reason. Well, an attempt at reason that usually failed.

"None taken, Miss."

"I'm thirty two goddamn years old. I'm a big girl and you don't dictate my life."

"A big girl with a big attitude. You're not a rock star, don't act like one. We sign your paycheck, so don't tempt me.”  He pointed his finger at her. “Another press incident like that fiasco and you won't be on probation with the circuit, you'll be suspended."

Raleigh Jo Dawson grew up behind the wheel. Her parents introduced her to go carts when she as all of five and that was the beginning of what would consume her life. She loved to drive and had the natural skill to go far. And she had. All the way to the top several times over.

"Aiden goes with you on your sabbatical if you want this party time."

"Don't be condescending."

"Take it, or leave it."

"Meet me at my house at 8am tomorrow packed and ready to go."  She addressed Aiden.

"Yes, Miss."

"You'll be back in two weeks." Tom ordered.

"Yes."

"Alright then, you two enjoy your vacation." He smiled with satisfaction.

"I will." She smiled sarcastically back and opened the door.

"Raleigh, wait." Tom motioned to the chair in front of his desk and took his glasses off. "Sit down for a moment."

She hesitated, but did so.

"Aiden, can you excuse us?" Aiden acquiesced his request. "It's been a year, hasn't it?"

"You don't have remind me." She put her hand to her forehead.

"I forgot.  I honestly did."

"I didn't," she said snarky.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let you get back in the car so quickly.  You weren't ready."

"My number one seat in the circuit would prove you're wrong."

"You aren't you and you haven't been. I've let the attitude slide, but we've already had one co-driver walk away, another who didn't even make it to the first race."

She crossed her legs and played with her long naturally blond hair.

"They clearly couldn't cut it."

"Will anyone cut it? We aren't going to find another Luke and that's what you want. That's why you're holding out.  He was an amazing man and it was clear how happy you two were together. I'm sorry for your loss, but you need to find peace and move on. We miss the old Raleigh. The one who wasn't a diva."

"That's what I'm trying to do Tom."

"Alright." He stood and sat on the edge of the desk by Raleigh. "Then go to Maine, take your vacation, find peace.  And come back ready for our next race."

"Thank you." She walked out of the office still put out with Tom. He hadn't exactly been a ray of sunshine to get along with either. And how could he forget something like that?

She was tired. They marketed her like she was a piece of meat. The money was nice, but she didn't care about the money anymore. She wanted to be happy. And all the money in the world hadn't succeeded in that feat.

What made Raleigh so marketable was her appearance. She was a natural blond, 5'8", sun kissed North Carolina skin, and had long lean muscular features. She had to work out to keep herself
marketable
.  She wouldn't be the poster girl for Eagle Energy Drink, one of their major sponsors, if she let herself go.  That and all the magazine covers she’d graced in addition. Raleigh was well known in and out of the sport, partly due to the notorious accident she was involved in.

On this day she didn't look like a successfully rally driver and spokes model, she looked like an average woman.  She wore a pair of pink leather flip flops, dark colored skinny jeans, and a plain white fitted white tee. The oversized black sunglasses and white bandana holding back her hair completed the look.

"Ah, Raleigh, am I really going with you across the country to Canada?"

"It's in the United States. And yes, meet me tomorrow." She pushed open a hallway door and slid on her sunglasses.

"No suits." She pointed her finger at him. "Bring casual—jeans, tee shirts, polos, that kinda stuff. But no stiff business suits."

"I own a few pair of chinos and oxford shirts, will those do?"

"You are a sad little man." She took his arm and pulled him along with her. Standing side by side, Raleigh looked formidable. Aiden was significantly shorter and lean as a string bean.

"I need to go back to my desk. I have work."

"We're going to do some shopping." She put her arm in his. "You need to lighten up."

"I can't Miss, I'm on a schedule." Raleigh loved the way her pronounced schedule. Shed-you-ewel.

"You're my assistant. Your job is what I tell you to do. This—" She pointed up and down at his suit. "Is beautiful for an office, but will not fit where we are going."

"What type of place is this?"

"You'll see." She smiled.

"I don't like that smile."

"Stop being so proper all the time. You can call me Raleigh."

"Etiquette was taught at my prep school. I believe you missed that class, Miss."