A worse car, with worse brakes, but who’s counting? Julien nods.
“With Thomas leading the championship, I have to wonder if you could be the piece we are missing.”
Tobias nods like crazy. “You were with Ferraro for three years?”
“This is my fourth year as a reserve.”
Louis clicks his tongue in distaste. “They had you rotting away in dark rooms to keep you from challenging their golden boy.”
Actually, the sport just forgot about him, but Julien feels compelled to nod along and agree with Louis anyway.
“We’d like for you to give us three years as well,” Tobias says. “Let our designers build you a car that will beat Thomas. You’ll be well compensated for it, of course.”
“How much?” Pete asks with zero finesse.
“Nine million euros.”
Pete writes the amount in his notes. “Three each year? Or on a sliding two-three-four scale?”
“Nine million euros every year.” Louis addresses Julien directly. “Twenty-seven for three.”
Julien sucks in a breath. Ninemillioneuros in a single year.
He could get a new car.
“We offer competitive win bonuses and podium bonuses as well,” Tobias continues.
Why would Julien ever need more thannine million euros?
Louis smiles like he’s won. “Think about it, will you? I would like an answer before I leave on Monday.”
He stands up and the other three men stumble to their feet. After one final round of handshaking, he exits.
“You’ve certainly given us a lot to consider,” Pete says.
“Here’s my card—it has my personal cell on it.” Tobias hands them each a thick dark green business card with silver along the border. “Please call me at any time. Mr. Gastaud isveryinterested in having you on the team next year. Nothing is off the table.”
“Right.”
Mercenary preaches about traditions and McLean touts their innovation. Throughout it all, the Ashton Marvin card burns in Julien’s pocket.
Twenty-seven million euros.
What would he even do with twenty-seven million euros?! That’s the kind of money he could retire on.
Maybe he should. Julien could race for three years, retire, then sim race full-time. He could even sponsor his team with the leftover cash.
It’s not a bad idea.
By the time they drag their feet over to Red Boar, Julien feels pretty confident about his new life plan.
Rafael meets them outside with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”
“Enlightening, if not draining.”
“Good thing you saved the best for last.”
The two photographers who haven’t wandered off yet snap a quick picture of Julien with Adam Stone and VFIBR’s Craig Burke before the group heads inside the navy-coated hospitality.
