“No, you’re not.” Sam is tired of this ‘will he, won’t he’ bullshit.
“It’s official now.”
“Nothing isofficialuntil a contract’s been signed.” Sam would’ve heard if a Red Boar contract for next year existed. Managers talk. Teams talk.
“The contract is being written.”
“For who? Thekid?!” Sam throws up his arms. “He had oneokayyear and what? Suddenly he’s worth more than a world champion?”
“Nobody is worth more than anybody else.” Lucas speakswith his gentle voice and it makes Sam want to scream. “Adam asked me to stay until one of them could handle a Red Boar. We think he can—with you guiding him.”
“I don’t want to guide anyone.” It’s not Sam’s job to teach, it’s his job torace. “What happened to your home race? You don’t care about winning anymore?”
“I can win in Germany for another series.”
“Oh yeah, you can win on thatfamousGerman FASCAR track.” Sam spits the name with disdain. “You want to drive in ovals for the rest of your life? See if I fucking care.”
Sam snatches his phone off the table and stomps out of his own driver’s room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the structure.
Adam lurks just outside, watching him in silence. He must’ve known what Lucas was going to say, and now here he is to see the reaction.
Well, Sam has a reaction for him, alright. He points to his driver’s room door and yells, “You can’t replace a world champion with a fuckingchild!”
Heads turn towards the noise, but Adam doesn’t budge. “Sam.”
No. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need to bemanaged. Sam needs to blow off steam and he knows exactly where to do so.
Sam knocks on the hotel door and impatiently shifts his weight from side to side. His clothes stick to his still-tacky skin, peeling away when he moves, then sticking again. It draws too much attention to hours earlier, to sparkling wine podiums and the moments before he knew Lucas had given his seat away.
Thomas opens the door with a sly smile, but his face falls. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sam didn’t realize he was so easy to read. “Y’gonna let me inside or are we fuckin’ in the hallway?”
Thomas holds the door open as he steps to the side, his face still shadowed with confusion.
Sam kicks off his shoes and finally pulls his stupid, sticky shirt off. “So what’ll be? Forwards? Backwards? You could even ride me—get a little cowgirl action going.”
He’s not even sure what he’d prefer, as long as it’s distracting.
“Um…” For how bold he was at the track, Thomas hesitates. “We could also talk first?”
“That’s not what we do.”
“It is what wecoulddo.”
Sam doesn’t want to talk, he wants to bury his dick in a hole and pass out. Maybe if he keeps taking off his clothes, Thomas will get distracted and drop the whole having-a-conversation thing.
He’s got his fly down, but Thomas keeps pushing. “What did Lucas say? Is he why you are like this?”
Sam’s hands still before zipping himself back up. Adam doesn’t want him to tell anyone, so maybe he should. Why would Sam care about what Adam and Lucas want? They’ve never cared about him.
“Lucas is retiring.” Admitting it out loud sucks the air out of his lungs. Still, he grinds out, “This is his last year in Form 1.”
Thomas nods. “This has been known, yes?”
This is why they don’t fucking talk. People hear a rumor and think they knoweverythingwhen they don’t know the first half of it.
“He changed his mind.Ihad changed his mind.” Sam juts a finger into his chest. Nobody ever understood how close they were.Nobody. “He was going to stay forme, for years until a VFIBR kid could learn how tofucking drive.”
