A man in puffs of cigarette smoke

He was eager to approach the leading driver of the stable where they both worked, but he didn't dare. He was nobody here, just a puppy in practice and Martin a real star. But since they both worked for the same team, maybe that would be enough reason to go over and tell him how big a fan of his is?

Martin was struggling inside when he heard a soft foreign voice from somewhere.

"You are here."

He looked around but saw no one. The statement was not directed at him. Steve turned his head to the side and stamped his cigarette butt on the ground. He was reaching for the package to retrieve another when a man Martin did not recognize stood in front of him.

He was an elegant man, dressed in an expensive navy blue suit, several years older than the driver. His hair was neatly, fashionably trimmed, which gave him a business character.

"You should carry your cell phone," the stranger admonished mildly reproachfully. Steve ignored him and shoved a new cigarette into his mouth. "Laryss called."

The cigarette froze for a moment in the driver's mouth. Steve took it out and tossed it after the previous one. He trampled it with his heel. Martin felt as if he had been doing it longer than necessary. Without a word, he broke away from the wall, and they both started walking towards Martin. The boy's heart beat faster. Now he would just have to say hi. Or say goodbye, because he is already going home. No, say hello, because he hasn't seen the other man yet, and he hasn't even exchanged a word with Steve either...

The men walked past him. Paxton paid him no attention. The latter gave him the shepherd dog's watchful look. Neither spoke a word to him.

Martin stood there for a moment, smelling the air of cigarettes, gasoline and expensive cologne. So this fragrance is the magnet for the hundreds of models that accompany Steve all over the world. The fragrance was really interesting and alluring, combining elegance with a hint of danger and adventure. This man really was classy. No, he was a class in himself.

The sound of a bus passing by reminded Martin of the passing time. The boy cursed and although he knew that he would not make it in time, he ran towards the main road. He was not surprised to see that the only thing left of the bus was exhaust smoke.

The track was not in a total remote area. A mile away was a village where people worked and lived. Buses to the nearest town ran regularly every hour, which meant that Martin would barely have time to meet Ami, and only if he didn't go home to change. The jeans and T-shirt he was wearing were not worn or dirty, but they certainly wouldn't look good in the eyes of a neat girl like her. Martin sighed. He really liked her, and after Heather broke up with him fourteen months ago, Ami was the first girl he wanted to spend time with.

Having nothing better to do, Martin put his hands in his pockets and headed towards the city. It was warm, early evening and the sun had not yet set, so he could admire the countryside as much as he wanted. His thoughts wandered to Ami, however, who, unlike his previous girlfriend, was nice and sweet, not so sexy, but her gentle face and warm eyes made him want to be there for her and make her happy.

Cars passed him quite often, but he didn't think about hitchhiking. If he is late, he tells Ami about it by the phone and he will buy some nice flowers for her on the way. She will definitely understand. After all, he told her about his new job.

The black sports car pulled to a stop just in front of him. The windshield lowered on the driver's side showed dark brown hair in the wind.

"Get in," said the man behind the wheel. Martin's eyes widened with shock and he swallowed loudly. Feeling his heart pounding with excitement, he walked over to the car and opened the passenger door. He couldn't believe he was going to be driving the same car as Steve Paxton. And Steve will be behind the wheel.

The car started moving as soon as Martin fastened his seat belt. The exclusive sports seat absorbed him, completely absorbing the acceleration. The upholstery smelled like natural leather, and the manual gear stick had a knob that looked like polished ivory.

"Thank you," he said, surprised that his voice sounded so faint. He cleared his throat.

Steve pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one neatly. He extended his hand towards his passenger.

"Thank you, I don't smoke."

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"No, no," he assured him warmly.

Steve put a cigarette in his mouth and put the pack away. But he didn't light it. He chewed it in his teeth for a few moments, never taking his eyes off the road, finally he took it out and threw it out the window.

"I'm trying to quit," he explained harshly.

That would explain his nervousness, Martin thought, and he felt even more respect for his idol. He had never had addictions himself, but had known many people with addiction. It was almost a heroic act in his eyes to fight it.

When Martin found out that he was going to work in the same stable as his idol, he kept repeating to himself dozens, if not hundreds of times, what he would say to him when he finally had a chance to exchange a few words with him. But now that he did have the opportunity to do so, no words came to mind. He sat mute, intimidated like a teenager. The silence made him uncomfortable, but he was unable to break through and speak first.

Steve was clearly reluctant to talk either. He did not take his eyes off the road and showed no interest in the passenger until they reached the first houses of the city.

"Where do I drop you off?"

"Eeee... under the loop will be fine, thank you."

The loop was a place where all buses turned back, and from each loop there was good access to all public and suburban transport. This is where Martin would get off if he could catch the bus.

"Are you sure?" Steve gave him a sidelong glance as if he suspected the kid was just trying to get blown away from his car.

"Yes. This is my stop. I live literally a block away, but this side of town has very bad access."

"As you like," the driver agreed.

The argument was logical and Steve could not fault it. He drove up to the depot and stood under one of the street lamps.

"Thank you very much, sir," said Martin, getting out. "Goodbye."

"Yeah, see you!"

The black sports car drove away and joined the traffic. Martin watched him for a moment, then his face grinned broadly. He just got out of the car of the famous Steve Paxton, the guy for whom the best F1 stables will compete next year.

Ami was waiting for him wearing a lovely mint dress. Even though he wasn't late, she looked a little nervous. Martin took a deep breath, pleased that he had bought a bouquet of daisies for her after all, and armed himself with his cheerful smile.

"Good evening," he said, and handed her the flowers. "I'm sorry for being late…"

"No, I came early," she said. She was pretty and lovely. "What a beautiful flowers! Thank you!"

"Have you ordered anything yet? He asked, sitting down across from her. They made an appointment in a recently popular pizzeria, where customers could compose their own pizza from the ingredients listed in the menu.

"Not yet. I just got here."

They picked up the menu and flipped through it.

"What do you want today? She asked him."

"Today I will eat anything so that there is a lot. I'm terribly hungry."

She laughed pearly and Martin felt a warmth in his heart.

"Trust me then," she suggested, and called the waitress. She placed an order that could satisfy half a military corps and turned to him.

"Tell me about the first day at work ..."