As I return to the garage, the chief inspector straightens up, face giving nothing away.He nods to his team, and they begin reassembling the car.“You’re clear,” he says simply.“We found no violations.”
A collective sigh of relief sweeps through the garage.The mechanics spring into action, working triple-time to get the car ready for qualifying.Matt gives Barry a tight-lipped smile, still simmering with anger but relieved.I allow myself an internal “whoop whoop” of triumph before kicking into high gear for the race.
“See?”Barry says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“I have to admit, you’re right,” I say, grinning.I turn to the bustling garage.“Team, we got them talking,” I say loudly.“Now let’s make them cry.”
CHAPTER 22
Matt
Seeing those inspectors in our garage really fired me up.
At Rossini, everyone pulls that shit on you.Complaints to the FIA on the slightest race incident, upgrades all scrutinized.Barry is right, it’s a sign we’ve been noticed.It’s a warning of what’s to come.And weshouldbe proud.Still, as I pull out onto that track, and the rain threatens from the dark gray skies above, I feel not just fired up, butangry.
I manage to breeze through Q1 with ease, not stopping to talk to anyone but Archie between races.I don’t even look for Chloe.No distractions.Just revenge.
And now, as we move into the second round of qualifying, I’m fired up even more.
I want it—to start in the top ten, within sniffing distance of a podium.But on this track, the iconic Interlagos in São Paulo, it’s not going to be easy.Famous for unpredictable weather, its undulating track, and its counterclockwise direction, it has plenty to challenge even a seasoned driver.
I tighten my grip on the wheel, glancing up at the absurdBig Ronny’s Ring Burner advert plastered around the stadium.My face, with an exaggerated expression of heat, tongue hanging out, eyes bulging, looks ridiculous.But instead of making me grimace, it adds to my drive.You want your luxury watch sponsor back, Matt?You gotta drive for it.
I take a deep breath, focusing on the damp track ahead.
I know this track.I love it here in Brazil.It was my first ever win, after all, so surely I can produce something here today.The roar of the Brazilian crowd grows louder as I head toward the long drag uphill past the pits, ready to start my lap.
The car feels good.So much better than even three races ago.I hold my breath as we near the starting line; I’m ready to unleash hell.
And boy, do I want to unleash.
“All right, Matt, let’s do this,” Archie’s calm voice crackles over the radio.This track rewards bravery and precision, things Archie knows I need to work on.
Chloe’s voice follows, softer and filled with encouragement.“You’ve got this, Matt.”
She’s on the radio too.
The memory of our night at the track surges through me.I think about our conversation about my fears on the track.My admission of everything that has been worrying me, and the way Chloe just listens.
I hit the throttle and leave the starting line in the dust.
Something hardens further in me; within the blink of an eye, I’m laser focused.I cannot hear anything except a whistling in my ear.I see nothing but what’s in front.I feel nothing except the thump of my heart, which is so hard it feels like it’s trying to break through my rib cage.
Ticktock.The imaginary clock spins in my head as I push, push, push.
I can do this.I can do this.
Every movement is precise.Time stops, even as I’m racing the clock.In the cabin of this car, everything feels like slow motion.
As I move through the turns, I catch a flash of red in my rearview mirror.Rossini way behind me.I grimace but push the thought away.I’m only racing myself today.
But it’s unsettled me, and thoughts of Stavros return.My wheels come off the track, the car bumps the barrier, and I overcorrect.The error is almost negligible, but it’s enough to lose a precious tenth of a second, and in this game, that’s enough to knock me back.
As I cross the finish line, I glance at the time displayed on the steering wheel.
“Archie,” I say breathlessly into the radio.
“You’re in thirteenth,” he says calmly.“Both Rossini to go.Stand by.”
