POLE SITTER
FORMATION 1
DESIREE CHAMPAGNE
JULIEN DUBOIS
RESERVE DRIVER, FERRARO
The polished tilesof the facility floor shine as Julien trails his team principal from room to room. He tucks his bare arms closer to himself, shivering while the older man rambles on in too-advanced Italian.
Julien usually wears his full race kit whenever he’s upstairs. Apparently, that’s for practical reasons, not just because the guys like to see him suffer.
Noted.
Brisk winter air barrels against the building’s feeble windows, but Lorenzo carries on, pulling his expression up into something resembling happiness and pretending to recognize some of the lower-level employees.
Julien knows the factory better than his own family home, but when Lorenzo Coppola insists on giving a tour, there’s no escape. The only thing the stern man loves more than Ferraro is hearing himself talk about Ferraro.
He even roped a videographer into their little party. The man’s camera bounces between the team principal’s weathered face and whatever expression Julien makes when he fights a yawn.
The whole thing is obnoxious, but Julien would suffer through a lot worse for the chance to drive a Formation 1 car.
“Julien! I just heard the news.”
“Congratulazioni!”
“Excited for you, ragazzino.”
“Grazie, grazie mille.”Julien hasn’t actually done anything yet, but he graciously accepts commendations from the engineers and strategists scattered around the building.
Anyone Julien doesn’t recognize gives him a once-over, sizing him up. They’re probably comparing him to the full-time drivers and adjusting their expectations accordingly.
Julien can’t blame them—he’d be curious too.
He’s slightly taller than Thomas, but much shorter than Rafael. Darker hair than Thomas, lighter hair than Rafael. More muscular than Thomas, leaner than Rafael. Younger than both, hungrier than both.
Soon, he’ll stand on his own. He’ll be exactly Julien—nothing more or less.
After Lorenzo opens the door to the simulator room, he turns with a grin.“Allora, you already know this room.”
Better than anyone else in the company.“You’ve kept me locked inside of it for three years.”
Lorenzo’s fake smile falters as his eyes flick to the camera and back.“Don’t be dramatic. You’ve driven the real thing. That’s more than other reserve drivers get.”
Mandatory FP1 runsarewhat other reserve drivers get. That’s why they’re mandatory.
Still, Julien dutifully cranks the edges of his lips up and replies in Italian.“I am so grateful to Ferraro for the opportunity. I love this room.”
“Giusto.”
Julien suffers through more offices, more curious looks, and more congratulations before they finally shuffle down the stairsand open the door to the factory floor. There, in the middle of the cavernous space, is the chassis of his car.
Well, the car he’ll be driving.
“You can change over there.”Lorenzo points towards a curtain hanging between piles of boxes. Ferraro handles billions of euros every year. They can’t afford a changing room?
“Grazie, signore.”
