Thomas is uncharacteristically quiet, taking it all in. When Sam pauses, he asks, “The rookie?”
“He’s not even a rookie, it’s his second year.”
Thomas nods slowly. “But he has driven well this season.”
“Last year he madezeropoints.”
“Mercenary made him an offer. I know Finn was concerned.”
“Concerned?The kid made zero points! The entire year!” They have a ranking system for a reason—it shows who can drive and who can’t. “Number twenty on debut? Worse than Sobber? It’spathetic. He’s not Red Boar material. I can’t bestrappedto an anchor dragging me down to the back of the field.”
“You do not really think that.”
Sam clenches his jaw. “Don’t tell me what I think.”
“You just do not want to lose Lucas.” Thomas doesn’t know when to take a hint. “Teams change, drivers retire, it is part of the sport.”
“You don’t know me!” Sam hates that his voice cracks. “I don’tneedLucas—I just hate the kid. He’s not ready for the Red Boar, and I’m not ready to lead some stupid child who doesn’t know which pedal to push!”
Thomas stares up at Sam silently, judging him like what he said was idiotic. But Sam’s right! He doesn’t want to haul some incompetent baby around the track—he wants to race alongside someone with experience.
The reason Red Boar dominates is because the teammates can rely on each other, work together. He can’t rely on a rookie. Sam needs someone who knows what they’re doing—someone who can run at the front of the pack.
Someone like?—
“You,” Sam breathes.
Thomas blinks quickly. “Me? What me?”
“You.” It’s perfect. “You could join Red Boar.” It’s the perfect solution.
“I—? Samuel, that?—”
“I can set up a meeting with Adam.” Sam digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “He’d be so happy that someone with your experience—with your record?—”
“Wait, Samuel.”
“Red Boar has the money, especially if they aren’t paying for Lucas anymore. And your sponsors? Fuck, Adam will bust a nut, it’s perfect.”
“Samuel.”
“And we could fight for the championship in equal machinery! Both of us, together in the same car—winner takes all. And those stupid marketing videos? You know my favorite track, and I know the kabob thing—it just makes sense.”
“Samuel!” Thomas doesn’t usually raise his voice. “I cannot leave Ferraro.”
That’s right, he just signed a contract extension. How noble of him to think a piece of paper means his future is set in stone. “Yes, you can. Drivers get bought out of their contracts all the time.”
Thomas makes a frustrated noise. “No, I do notwantto leave Ferraro.”
“Yes, you do. You complain about their strategy like, all the time.”
“That—that is not me wanting toleave.” His eyes are wide, but they’re pleading, not excited. “Ferraro has been my dream my whole life. I am winning races in the red car. I cannot give up my dream because you are losing Lucas.”
“Lucas has nothing to do with this.” Hasn’t he heard a single word Sam has said? It’s about competency, it’s about the sport, it’s about the principle of the thing—that’s it.
Thomas shoots him a disbelieving look, so Sam tries again.
“Lucas has nothing to do with anything.”
