Phoebe's POV
Harold's typical icy demeanor never applied when it came to me.
When he saw how enthusiastic I was, he let out a helpless sigh. "You really want to give this a shot?"
I bobbed my head eagerly. "Absolutely, I'm pretty decent with vehicles."
Alan cracked up laughing. "Come on, Harold, let Phoebe take a turn. I'll station people at the dangerous spots—nothing bad will happen."
Left with little choice, Harold relented but fixed me with a worried expression. "This is about enjoying yourself, not claiming victory, got it?"
I flashed him an "OK" gesture, acting like I totally got it, but when Harold looked away, Alan and I shared a mischievous smile.
We used an internal entrance to get to the racetrack, which meant Jeremy's posted lookouts never caught sight of any questionable cars and checked in: "Jeremy, Harold's crew isn't tailing us."
——
Jeremy had already reached the pre-race zone when the call came through, a sneering expression crossing his features.
