Wait, does Thomas know about Rafael and Julien? How did he find out?
“Watch a replay before you attack the kid.” Rafael’s sling presses against Julien’s back as he positions his phone at an angle they both can see. He scrolls social media, settling on the official Formation 1 account, and plays the first video.
Thomas crowds closer, his face blocking the screen before Julien shoves him out of the way.
The video starts from before the botched overtake, follows through Thomas’s defense, Julien’s oversteer, the correction, then suddenly Sam appears. He picked up enough speed on the straight to try and dive-bomb the inside, but didn’t angle himself enough to make the turn.
“Where was he even going?!” Julien replays the impact again, more confused than he was before. “Why was he still driving straight? That’s not anywhere close to the race line.”
“You can’t tell here, but from a different angle, it looked like he locked up.” Rafael scrolls again, but there’s nothing elseabout the crash. “Stewards labelled it a racing incident, but it's obviously Sam’s fault.”
“Ha!”It isn’t mature, but the mocking noise explodes out of Julien. “See?! I’m not the unnecessarily dangerous one.”
He grins up at Rafael, grateful to have a level-headed third party prove him right. When the Brazilian winks back, Julien quickly turns away.
It doesn’tmeananything or anything. Rafael is just very passionate about racing incidents.
Thomas is uncharacteristically quiet before he asks, “Where did Samuel finish?Didhe finish?”
“No idea,” Rafael answers. “I didn’t watch the rest.”
Julien’s an idiot, so he asks, “You didn’t?” the same time Thomas does.
Of course Rafael didn’t watch the end of the race—he was too busy receiving the best blowjob of his life.
“No, I had to shit,” Rafael says instead. “A giant load. Terrible. Just stay away from the garage toilet altogether, it’s worth the walk to hospitality.”
What the fuck?
At least he knows how to sell a lie.
The brothers stare at the Brazilian driver before Thomas asks, “Didyouwatch it?”
“No, I—” Julien isn’t as good at lying on the spot. “I was in my driver’s room. Crying. Thought I’d get my first podium today.” He wipes at his eyes, though they’re obviously dry. “And then my brother—my own flesh and blood—blamed me for it? I should cancel all of my media duties for the rest of the day and go cry some more.”
“There are no podium celebrations for sprint races. Look at this thing.” Thomas finally shows off his disk. He finished second, apparently. “It does not have feet. It cannot stand up.I have to hold it forever now or it will roll away. What is the point?”
The point is that Julien could’ve overtaken his brother. He was clumsy during the first try, but with two DRS zones and Thomas cradling his tires, Julien could’ve gotten past him by the end of the sprint.
In three laps, Julien would’ve proven to everyone that he isn’t just driving the fastest car—he has the ability to take on and win against one of the greatest drivers of their generation.
Thomas smacks the side of his disk.
Why the fuck was he so quick to blame Julien anyway? Why would Thomas convince Ferraro to keep him on retainer if he thought Julien was dangerous?
And Julien certainly won’t forget the comment about his “computer game” any time soon.
The hundreds of hours Julien spends in Ferraro’s simulators help build the car every year. His laps finalize the set-up for every race. Julien’scomputer gameis part of the reason Thomas has a car that can compete at the front in the first place.
For Thomas to flippantly minimize his contributions to the team, to reduce it to some child’sgame, makes Julien’s blood boil.
He has five more races. Five races to prove—not just to Thomas, but to the world—that he is a formidable opponent.
When Thomas dismisses himself, Julien hangs back with Rafael. Hopefully the sprint race inspired some ideas for overtaking during the actual race.
Julien will take all the advice he can get at this point. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
“Anytime, babe.” Rafael taps Julien’s ass with the phone still in his free hand and saunters away.
