Julien scoffs, but Rafael has a gleam in his eye that lingers even after he’s finally dragged away.
In the post-race interview, Rafael scoots closer to Julien on the long circular couch. He recounts all of the battles he fought with excited whispers while Fritz answers the questions directed at him.
This Rafael is closer to the man Julien slept with. It’s good to see he’s still in there somewhere, hidden under the melancholy and aggression.
Still, the stark difference between last week and this week has Julien feeling a little whiplashed.
When it’s his turn to answer questions, Rafael stays glued to his side.
“We saw the team orders to give up your position. Do you think that was a fair thing to ask of a driver who has limited time to prove what he is capable of?”
“Absolutely,” Julien answers. “Rafael approached on new mediums while I was riding old hards. He fought the entire grid to get to where I was, and I was happy to step aside so he could fight for the win.”
“You could have held him back a little bit,” Fritz says from across the sofa.
The host of the interview hums. “Do you think your complacency makes you less desirable to potential teams?”
Complacency?
“It isn't my job to stand out. As a reserve driver, I work for the benefit of my team in any way I can. I believe I have done so today.”
“After this weekend, you are fifth in the Drivers’ Championship. Is there a hope you’ll receive more time in the car? To fight for the championship?”
Julien pauses to digest the question. “I’m sorry, are you asking if I hope my brother will suffer a more serious injury so I can race cars?”
“No, no,definitelynot!” The host fumbles with his cue cards and tries again. “I mean, wouldn’t it benefit you to have more time in the car? To prove you could replace Rafael as a full-time driver?”
Rafael stills and Julien subconsciously squeezes his leg for reassurance. “I don’t compete for the Drivers’ Championship. My job is to focus on the Constructors’. Any points I’ve made this season are only a replacement for the points Rafael and Thomas would’ve made.”
“Last question before we open up to the floor—are you in talks with any teams for a seat next year? If so, who?”
Julien can’t help but smile. “That’s two questions.”
“Is that your answer?”
“Now it’s three.”
The stress of a race weekend is killer, but Julien can’t deny it’s nice to have a driver’s room to hide in during downtime. Before the team bus arrives, he happily sprawls out on Thomas’s massage table, taking advantage of the horizontal surface while he can.
Someone knocks on the door and Julien pulls out an earbud before he calls out, “It’s open.”
Rafael sticks his head in before opening the door wider. “Thought you’d be in here. Got a sec?”
“Uh, yeah?” Julien doesn’t want to surrender his precious alone time before taking the crowded bus to the crowded airport to board the crowded plane, but he still hauls himself upright.
“Great. Remember at the receiving line? When I said I’d make it up to you? I’d like you to meet someone.”
In Thomas’s driver’s room?
Julien peeks past Rafael into the hallway, but no one is out there. “Is this a real person?”
“Shutup.” Rafael laughs. Julien forgot how nice the sound could be. “We have to go out to the paddock.”
“You didn’t bring them through the garage?” Julien stands with uncertainty and fixes his team kit. He’s still champagne-sticky and dirt sticks to his forearms, but that’s the price of a podium finish.
“He’s not allowed back here.”
Interest piqued, Julien follows Rafael through the garage and out to the paddock. Before they reach Ferraro’s hospitality, the man drags him up a different set of stairs.
