“I like the number four, it is enough.” His confidence is so frustrating sometimes. “I want to race in other series as well. I don’t want to be restricted to Formation 1, to retire when I am too old to learn something new. I am already thirty-five.”
“So? Giovanni is older!”
“Giovanni would rather die in a Form 1 car than live in retirement.”Okay, fair point. “I did not think you’d be so upset. I thought you’d be happy to be the number one driver.”
He should mean ‘of Red Boar’, but the two of them have been consistently first and second in the WDC for the past three years. Lucas could very well be the only thing between Sam and a championship title.
But what would a title mean, if he didn’t beat Lucas to win it?
“Not without you.”
“Ah, I see.” Lucas looks almost pitying as he cups Sam’s cheek, patting it. “I know what you think you are feeling, but it is not real. Trust me, you will move on.”
“Not real?” Sam stiffens. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”
“A lot of drivers feel this. When you are with the same people, away from your friends and family. When tensions are high and adrenaline starts pumping… That is not romantic, it is carnal.”
Carnal?
“But I love you!” Had he known about Sam’s crush all this time?
There it is again—that pitying look. “You will forget it, I promise.”
Sam slams the door when he leaves. He hasn’t changed into his race suit yet, but he marches himself over to the team principal’s office. “What are you doing to stop him?!”
“Let me call you back,” Adam says. He hangs up, but takes his time, scrolling through his phone and avoiding eye contact as long as possible.
That’s okay, Sam has all the time in the world.
“Alright. What is it you want?”
“I want Lucas to stay!”
“Right, so get in line.” Adam sighs, his shoulders drooping. “Look, I get it. Trust me, I want him here more than you do. The VFIBR kids made a whopping two points last year.Together.”
“So what are you gonna do about it?!”
“Not that it is any ofyourbusiness—” Adam says, giving him the once-over. “—but the board and I are discussing different options. Monetary…”
“He has enough money.”
“…and partnerships too. We have IndieCar and FASCAR connections, as well as MotorGP. We’re trying to work out some sort of guaranteed seat offer, just to keep him around for another two years, but—” Adam buries his face in his hands. “I don’t fuckin’ know, but he has to stay. At least until we can get some new kids in the VFIBR. Get someone who can actually show us something.”
“He has to stay,” Sam agrees.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Adam says, seriously. “I know the rumor’s already out there, but it’ll sound more concrete if it comes from you. He said he’d give me ‘til summer break to convince him and I’m going to need every second of that time.”
Sam nukes his qualifying.
At the front of the pack, everyone needs to stay focused, present. The difference of three tenths of a second could be the difference between pole and eighth.
Sam has a lot on his mind, so he starts eighth.
He’s already in parc ferme by the time the last lap times roll in. Ferraro loves a late release, so it’s Rafael and Thomas who deliver the final blows.
Sixth isn’t great, but it’s better thaneighth.
Seventh is surprisingly low for Thomas, though. He’s usually pretty good at the single lap. Maybe he got a similar ‘You don’t love me, you don’t even know what love is’-type speech from Rafael. Maybe that’s why he’s desperate for a replacement.
