“I’m asking you.”
She licked her lips. “It looks light. Does that make it fast?”
“You’re moving less mass. Think of how fast motorcycles can go. So it could be faster, yeah.”
But the machine wasn’t a bigger factor than the driver, or the care that the driver put into the vehicle. As the track lights beeped, flashing down to green, she burst out, “I pick the GTR.”
It was a lucky guess.
But Josh was pleased, and that made her happy. She’d guessed correctly, and that was worth something. They spent the next hour watching race after race. Sometimes she guessed correctly, sometimes not, and when she was wrong, Josh asked her to guess what she thought the issue was. Sometimes it was a slow start off the line, sometimes it was pulling up too soon. Almost always, her guess was some form of driver error.
Which Josh picked up on. “Some things are driver error, sure, but other times, the driver is making the right call to protect the car. That’s not a mistake.”
“The most toxic Fischer trait of all is assuming that anything less than a win is some kind of catastrophic misjudgement,” she said, maybe a little too sharply.
He nodded. “I am familiar with that energy, yes.”
“Do you like working for my father?” She regretted asking it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
He didn’t. He spread his legs a little wider and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. Hunkering down as if to get closer to the track. And for the next three races, he didn’t quiz her on what she thought. He just got lost in what was clearly pure enjoyment.
“Hooked up andgone.Take that. What a beauty.”
“Fuck yeah. Nice.”
“Come on. You can do it… Yeah, baby! Go, go, go!”
“No way you’re gonna catch him, bud.”
“Awww, shit. That’s a tough start. Can she haul ass and get there? Can she? Yesss she can. Whew!”
And she learned a little something from each of those races. From his reaction, from the tension in his body, then the thrilling release. Maybe not the lessons he meant to give her tonight, but ones she found wildly helpful, anyway.
She’d tapped out a few of the things he said, for example, for Instagram quotes next week. She probably couldn’t sayhaul ass and get there, but maybe she could substitute dollar signs for the letter s.
From a business perspective, understanding fan engagement was just as important as understanding the technical chances of a win on the track. And that was where she had a chance in hell of impressing her father—by demonstratively improving their social media numbers.
If she did that, she might earn a seat at the table for things like advertising discussions and brand design.
“What are you working on?” Josh glanced at her phone long enough to demonstrate curiosity, his favourite thing, but not long enough to be nosy.
“Making some notes for the social media team. Things heard at the track. This is probably universal, right?” She showed him the lines she’d copied down from him.
He laughed so hard his whole body shook. “Yeah, those are pretty standard for any race fan.”
“Good.” She beamed. “Thank you.”
His phone went off, an alarm, and he glanced at the time. “That’s my cue. I gotta go get in line. You gonna be okay here by yourself?”
He’d explained they weren’t allowed passengers on the track. She nodded. “I’ll continue my market research until I see your car.”
He smiled, amused. “Or you could just enjoy a few races, you know.”
“That, too.”
“I’ll try to race twice. When I’m finished, do you want me to come find you here, or do you want to come to the parking lot?”
“I’ll come find you. I owe you that dinner.”
