“Let’s go.”
The team cheers as both brothers make their way to the front of the crowd. Claps on the back from people they pass have both of them laughing, stumbling, and hanging onto each other for support.
The sign board in the middle of the crowd reads:
DUB P1
DUO P7
1st RACE
1st POINTS
Julien didn’t expect to be on the board at all. “You’re leading the championship. Why is it mostly about my race?”
“Because points on debut is a big deal!” Thomas hooks an arm around his shoulder and shakes his little brother to the delight of the crowd.
“But I’m in a Ferraro.” A rocketship.
“Go kneel over there and try to be proud of what you accomplished today.”
But Rafael’s on that side. His black sling stands out against the sea of matching red shirts.
Julien ignores the man as he crouches in front of him and faces all of the cameras.
There must be fifty photographers there all calling for attention. Who the fuck is he supposed to look at? Hopefully the ones in Ferraro red.
“You and Thomas okay?” Rafael’s warm breath tickles the edge of Julien’s ear.
He nods, unwilling to admit defeat by turning and looking at the older driver.
“Good.” Rafael pats his shoulder, the last touch a lingering squeeze. “I’ll put together a plan for China. It’s a sprint weekend, so you’ll have less practice time.”
Julien finally turns. “You’re still going to help me?” Even after Rafael specified he only cared about Australia?
“Well, I didn’t really do anything for you today. Besides, I’m not doing anything else around the garage. Is the offer still good?”
The offer.
Julien nods enthusiastically, though he should probably ask which one he’s referring to. Either result—a top five in Qualifying or top three in the race—would be impressive. What’s one more blowjob or meaningless fuck in the grand scheme of things?
Rafael grins. “The cameras are behind you. C’mon now, big smile.
“Your alarm is going off.”
Julien pushes against whoever is shaking him and groans. When he blinks, all he sees is the grey leather of the back of a couch. That’s weird. Why does he also feel like he’s moving?
“What time is it?” Julien pats the area, searching for his phone. He can hear the vibration, but that doesn’t help pinpoint its location.
It’s Rafael who answers, “In Australia time? Or China time?”
Julien finds his bearings and his phone in the same moment. His first trip on a private plane, and he fell asleep? It feels like a waste.
Then again, when was the last time he actuallysleptin economy? The whole point of the charter is to be comfortable.
“Thanks for waking me.” Julien shuffles through his backpack, retrieving his laptop, controller, and headphones.
Planes don’t normally have the best Wi-Fi, but there’s an entirecouch. Hopefully that bodes well for the internet speed.
