I frown.“Okay.If you’ve run all the options.”
The strategist hesitates.“Yep,” he says, tilting his chin up.I watch him saunter back to the other strategists, and they all quickly fall into some kind of private joke together.I narrow my gaze on him.I’ve not felt ready to let anyone go since taking over, but Iamwatching.
I look over the line of computers that sit opposite the pit lane facing the track and see Matt fucking Warner standing out at the back of the grid, an ice towel around his neck, headphones on, drinking an electric-green sugary slushy.Press occasionally move into his orbit and he moves away quickly.Helookslike he wants to retire, honestly.Like he’s done.
The crowd is deafening already.As the music blares from the speakers over the grid, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Everything okay with you and your handsome new driver?”It’s Keyla, shouting over the noise, as she pauses her walk across the pit toward McLaren.
“Hiya!”I pull my headphones off.“Mostly...why?”
“That’s not convincing.You got a handle on things?”
“Nope,” I say, dropping my voice as much as I can over the noise.“He’s soinfuriating, Keyla.”
“Oh no.I know that look.I’ve been that look.You still want to fuck him,” she says, tutting.“You can’t fuck your driver, Chloe.”
“Shut up.I do not,” I shout back, mortified, and hugely grateful that no one is paying attention to us in the pre-race chaos.
“The rumors say otherwise,” she yells back with a knowing stare.
“Rumors?”Oh god.At this point, can anything get worse?
“You can’t go back to that place, Chloe,” she says, wagging a finger at me.“You’ll regret it.If people get wind of it, it’s going to make you look—”
“I know, I know,” I say bitterly.“Pathetic.Tacky.Ridiculous.”
“Your words, not mine,” she says with both hands up.“I’d hate that for you after you’ve worked harder than anyone I know to get here.I also can’t go around beating upeverygossiping loser who tries my best friend.”
I laugh and nod at Keyla’s classic ride-or-die attitude, glad to have someone around here who has my back.“Thanks for the straight talk.”
She grins at me.“Good luck tonight, Chloe.I’m rooting for you.”Then she spins back around, her braids swinging as she skips off toward her team.
I glance down at my team, at the glum faces—Noah’s race engineer, technical director, and strategists, and at the far end, an empty seat that Archie will fill soon enough.His transfer is in the process, even though it’s unprecedented to let go of someone like Archie without a period of time when he cannot work for a competitor.Rossini were just so keen to move on from Matt, they agreed, which works better for us.
I look back at Matt, watch him fidget for a moment and then examine the tarmac and saunter down the straight, away from the lights and the cameras and the rest of the drivers.
Has he even done warm-ups?Where are his earbuds?He used to love to listen to music, but now he just lookscompletely adrift.Unfocused.As my eyes trace the lonely figure, I feel my heart clutch a little.Which Matt are we going to see today?
“It’s lights-out in Singapore,” the loudspeaker booms as twenty Formula 1 engines growl and roar into action.I take a deep breath, glancing up at the numbers on the screen in front of me.
This is it.The main race we’ve been waiting for.
Come on, Matt, I find myself whispering.Willing him to find something.Anything.
As the cars hit speed on the straight, he is surprisingly aggressive.I feel a little thrill as I watch his speed dial up even more out of turn one, and he moves quickly past the lagging Haas.
I turn to my team and give a hopeful smile.
“He’s in eighteenth,” says the strategist.
Then there is a tussle into turns three and four, where Matt finds a little space on the bend, cutting underneath a Williams.Up one more place.He’s now trailing Noah.
“Two places in half a lap,” says one of the strategists and then she points at the screen.“He’s on pace with the midfield.”
“Noah next,” I say.
The excitement starts to fizzle, and I suck back a deep, calming breath as he comes up behind his new teammate.The radio crackles.
