He laughs into his drink. ‘Parents, hey? Honestly, I think it’s a late-life crisis.’
‘You don’t say.’
I didn’t anticipate the chasm between us being so big, and it’s widening by the minute. Obviously the wealth surrounding F1 is astronomical, it always has been, but I don’t remember it being this bottomless, this meaningless. Or maybe it’s me. It’s been a long time since anyone in my life talked about private planes.
‘How are your parents?’ Kurt says, plucking an olive from the charcuterie board.
‘Well—’
‘You don’t need to enquire about ’er father; ’e’s doing better than everyone! Living. The.Dream.’ Étienne makes a chef’s kiss in the air.
My face starts to flame.
‘You can say that again. I think his new girlfriend’s twenty?’ Thank you, Kurt.
‘’e’s still in Monaco. I see ’im at the…’ Étienne snaps his fingers to help him remember the word. Please don’t say school yard. ‘…men’s ’air shop.’
Phew.
Kurt scrunches his face up in thought. ‘Isn’t she a Victoria’s Secret model?’
‘That was the previous one. This one’s from OnlyFans,’ Étienne clarifies.
‘A true DiCaprio,’ muses Kurt, like he’s impressed and not sickened. ‘I guess you can do what you want when you’re a once-in-a-generation driver.’
Étienne rushes to agree. I smile blandly.
It’s not like this is all news to me – I can use Google Alerts as well as anyone – but there’s something uncomfortable about it coming from other people’s lips. More specifically, people who know both of us.
Mum and I don’t discuss my dad ever, and no one back home really understands being abandoned by your motorsport legend father who’s now content to simultaneously ignore and humiliate you. I wonder if it ever crosses his mind that his barely post-adolescent playthings – sorry, ‘loves of his life’ – are younger than his daughter.
‘Do you speak to him much?’ Kurt asks quietly.
‘Not… often.’ Never. The answer’s never.
It’s common knowledge that Sir Cliff Roberts left his family to start a new life with his knocked-up mistress. It was all the press could talk about for a hot minute, then thankfully everyone moved on. I’m counting on no one knowing exactly how estranged we are. My dad still carries weight in this industry, being a former World Champion and a current Ackland board member, and I’m convinced it gives me credibility. Probably even got me the job, though I hope that wasn’t the whole reason.
I change the subject. ‘I have a bone to pick with you two. You left me high and dry out there on the grid. On my first weekend!’
Neither has the decency to look sheepish.
‘Itznot up to us,’ Étienne says with a vague shrug.
‘Who’s it up to?’
‘Team principal,’ they state in unison.
I huff. ‘I accept that from Kurt, but Étienne, you have no excuse. Your principal’s your dad.’
‘On track ’e’s principal first.’
‘Yeah, well, speak to him at dinner. I need this. Help me out, both of you.’ I top up my glass. ‘You can make it up to me by sharing what I need to know about this season’s grid.’
‘No way, I’m not telling you shit,’ Kurt says with a chuckle. ‘You’re the enemy now.’
‘I’m not going to use anything. I’ve been away for a long time and research can only give me so much. I just need to get my bearings. Who’s a dark horse, who can rival Jack?—’
‘Me,’ they say at the same time, looking at me like I’m the idiot.
