Epically disastrous is probably more like it if last year’s anything to go by. ‘Eilo’s a wild card, but you’re probably safe with Kurtis.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
Chapter 17
MINNIE
Jack parks the car while I walk to the front entrance to avoid anyone catching us together – Ackland are paying for me to stay in the driver’s hotel, after all. With its antiques, sculptures and frescoes, it’s like sleeping inside a Renaissance painting.
Part of me can’t stop fretting about this whole evening. My uncontrollable trembling probably grossed him out; my prying into Luca undoubtedly crossed a line. He said he had a good time, but I didn’t even touch him. It’s not like I want to see him again, I just want every man I’m with to have a good time. Write a glowing review, if you will. I mean, maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing him one more time – to settle the score.
A figure leaning against the colonnade pillar outside the entrance catches my attention. There’s only one person in Bologna who wears that much Nike. My heart stops at the thought of him seeing Jack and I together – fraternising with athletes breaks every code in the sports journalism handbook – but I remind myself that would be impossible. I left Jack on another street.
Krunal’s black hood is up when I reach him, a cigarette poised in front of his lips. I don’t particularly want to see anyonefrom work right now but if it has to be someone, I’m glad it’s him.
‘Hi,’ I say.
He jumps a foot and rushes to stub his cigarette out like I’ve caught him doing something illegal. Kids presenting dies hard, I guess. ‘Minnie. I, um… How you doing?’
‘Alright. What are you doing here?’
His smile’s guarded as he yanks his hood down. He looks almost embarrassed, which is a weird look on someone who’s calm enough to sing Craig David songs during ad breaks at work. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or nothing.’
‘I didn’t think you?—’
‘I came to chat about earlier, but you weren’t here, and I was ready to dip when I ran into Micah Adetunji of all people.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Swear down. The man speaks!’ Krunal says a little exuberantly, and shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘Anyway, he said he’d seen you go for a walk so I figured I’d chill for a bit.’
‘Sorry if you were waiting ages. Do you want to come in?—’
‘This won’t take long.’ His bobbing from foot to foot’s giving me second-hand anxiety. What’s up with him? He’s the most laidback person I know.
‘Firstly, I wanted to apologise on behalf of the whole team,’ he starts and I’m already writhing in discomfort. ‘Brian’s a gobshite, and his beliefs aren’t representative of anyone but him. I’ve worked here for four years and the lads are decent. We all want what you want – to be a team and put on the best show. Don’t take him in. If it makes you feel better, he’s asked me four timeswhere I’m really from. He clearly doesn’t like that the answer’s Slough.’
Oh Brian, he just keeps getting better. I pull a face and swallow my laugher at the ridiculousness of him and the backward network we call our employer.
‘I know,’ Krunal says. ‘Trust me, I know. I usually pass it off as old guard but that doesn’t excuse how he acted today. Bruv was moving mad.’
‘It’s ok, I’ve been around men like him my whole life.’
‘That may be true, but what he did was proper discrimination and the network are treating it seriously. Greg bollocked him and told him to go home and cool off. He’s not doing the race show tomorrow.’
What a relief – however temporary. ‘But then he’ll be back in Monaco,’ I say to my feet, ‘and he’ll still think I’m a nepo baby who knows nothing about F1.’
‘So? He probably thinks I grew up getting water from a well. So long as he keeps his opinions to himself, he can think whatever he wants. What matters is you’re killing it, Min. You have an interesting perspective and great rapport with the drivers and you know fuck tons about this sport. You deserve to be here. I’m in your corner, and we’ll make sure things improve together.’
Today’s been one long emotional rollercoaster, and my eyes start to prickle. That’s the nicest thing anyone at Channel 3 has ever said to me. I want to bottle it and take the stopper off before Monaco qualifying.
‘If my car broke down, I’d probably call you,’ he says. ‘You’d actually help me, innit. Brian would just lecture me about what he would’ve done differently, and how he never breaks down, and actually Gen X-ers were born with jacks built into their pecks.’
My laugh’s blubbery.
‘It’s up to the network to give us all space, yeah?’ he says.
I sniff and dip my head in some semblance of agreement.
