Oh, okay. There it is. Still, this all seems relatively tame for Hugo.
Too tame.
Something else is going on.
“McLean concurs,” Amir grumbles.
“Well,” the steward replies, closing his notebook. “I have to say, youhavesaved us a bit of time. Do you accept, Mr. Dubois?”
“Yes?” What else can he say? Julien entered the room expecting a three-place penalty, but might actually walk out of it as pole sitter for the race.
“Lorenzo?”
The Ferraro team principal leans forward, his elbows braced on the heavy wooden table. “Absolutely, we accept.”
“Very well. No further action will be taken at this time. You are all dismissed.”
Before he can disappear down the hallway, Julien grabs Hugo by the shoulder and hauls him backwards. “What the fuck was that?”
“What? I can’t do something nice for you?”
“Not without strings attached.”
Bad publicity might sound good enough to the stewards, but Julien knows better than to fall for it. Hugo cares about racing far more than his image.
“What do you want from me? Do you need me to crash into someone for you? Honestly, I could.” Julien is pole sitter for a race with limited overtaking opportunities. If Hugo wants him to kill a man, he’ll fucking consider it.
“Please don’t.”
“Seriously, evenAmirbacked down! Did you pimp me out to your TP? You know I hate blowjobs. Is he small, at least?”
“Shutup!Jesus fuck, don’t talk about blowing—” Hugo pushes his glasses up, off his face, into his wavy light-brown hair. He rubs his eyes and grumbles, “God, that wasn’t a visual I needed.”
“Then what is it?” Julien pulls Hugo’s wrists away from his face. “I know it’s something, just tell me.”
Hugo’s blue eyes are larger without his glasses, and he stares unblinkingly at the reserve driver. Finally, he relents. “I said something on my radio when you were suddenly in my way. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”
“Something?” Julien repeats, dropping his grip. “Like a slur?”
“No, worse.” What’s worse than a slur? “I called you Juliet.”
“Oh.” Fuck.
Fuck.
“I amsosorry.” For what it’s worth, Hugo looks like he means it. “I know it’s an us-thing and the whole point is that you hate it. But I was so—I was sofrustrated, it just slipped out.”
“Wow.” Julien doesn’t know what else to say. At least he has a warning.
“McLean’s PR team thinks it looks bad. They think it sounds misogynistic—that I belittled you by calling you a woman.”
“Huh.”
“But I know it’s worse than that, because your sim racing name?—”
“Yeah.”
Romeo and Juliet. It’s not the most difficult puzzle to piece together. Julien’s eRacing team has already started to point fingers at him, and this might be the final straw.
