“Sure.Hi!Go ahead,” I say, quickly turning over my phone and gathering up my paperwork to make room for him.I wave toward the bartender, but in a bar full of nobody, he’s already on his way over.
Before I have a chance to protest another round of drinks, Jack points at my cocktail and says, “Same.”He smooths his cropped hair back with both hands.I see a few sprinklings of gray at his temples.He’s still that long, lean, elegant handsome.A gentleman who crosses his legs and moves his body with slow intention.Like a sloth in a Panama hat.
Looking at him now, it’s hard to believe Jack was a racer back in the early go-karting days.The son of Mick Sheppard, a two-time world champion and the stuff of legends at now-defunct Honda Racing, Jack had the pedigree but neverthe killer instinct.I’ve always liked him, though.He was a fun gossip and a hilarious drunk.In a paddock full of bullish alpha males, Jack was reassuringly self-effacing.
“How have you been?”I ask, glancing at the press pass around his neck.“You’re atF1 Dailynow?”
“Yup,” he says, turning the plastic card to look at it.“Living theotherdream.”
“Ah well, we all had to pivot.”
“Quite,” he says, motioning toward my paperwork.“How is it all going?”Jack holds his hands up as if to say,I’m not here as press, then he pulls off his FIA lanyard and shoves the pass into the pocket of his linen slacks.
“It’s been a day, all right,” I say, grimacing.
“Well, congratulations anyway.”
“On the bad qualifying run?”
“On the new gig, stupid,” he says, chuckling.“Really.I know it isn’t Mercedes or whatever, but it’s F1.You’re in the fucking room.”He smiles a broad, earnest smile and lifts his glass.“Be proud of yourself.It’s an incredible achievement.”
I feel a little warm glow flow through me at this kindness, which I realize I’ve had virtually none of today.The only message I got from my family after the press conference was from my dad, who was thrilled about me working with Matt.
Matt Warner!Great news.Tell him hi from me.Love Dad.
Dad could never get over the end of my driving career.I suppose after all the years, all the money, all the sacrifice on his part, he felt he’d failed or lost something too.
“I loved what you did in F3.I followed the whole season,”Jack says as he takes a sip of his drink.“You were always going to do the best out of everyone in our era.”
“Stop it,” I say, as feel-good hormones flood my every cell.God, I needed a bit of this.Fuck it.I’m having a third cocktail.I deserve to revel a bit in my achievement after a day that feels as though it was purposefully designed just to undermine it.
“There’s a double-page profile on you inF1 Dailytomorrow.‘Arden Racing’s New Leading Lady.’”He chuckles.“I hate the headline, bloody editors, but the content is great.Your background, your rise through the ranks.Barry says surprisingly coherent stuff too.”
“Thank you, Jack.Really.” Blushing with pride, impostor syndrome be damned, I pick up my drink and take another swig.“I absolutely hate talking to press.”
“I know,” he says, chuckling.“You looked nervous as hell at that press conference.”
I grimace.Damn it.“Ugh.How embarrassing.”
“I take it you didn’t know about Matt?”Jack asks.
“Nope.”
“How is he?”
I scoff.“He continues to meet my expectations,” I say, with mock magnanimity and a wry smile.Jack laughs, stretching back into his chair.
“All the likability of a global famine.”
“All the charm of a dishcloth,” I say, enjoying myself more than I should.
“What a pain.I’d hate to be forced to work with him.”
“Nobodywants to work with him.”
Jack and Matt never liked each other much.The jealousy,I suspect, worked in both directions.Matt had insane raw talent that Jack coveted, and Jack had money and deep connections in the industry.But we waste time being jealous of the wrong things; Matt made it without all the money and the connections, and now he has both in abundance.
“I don’t think he’s happy workingforme,” I say, sighing.“I’m no Ron fucking Dennis, but it’s pretty annoying.”I pause for a minute, calculating the risk of sharing the video with Jack.I suppose since they’re going out on socials anyway, it doesn’t matter.I hand him my phone and hit play.
