“He will,” Rafael says with conviction. “He always sizes up the drivers who start ahead of him. Remember, Thomas will never settle for second place. Don’t let him talk to you and focus on maintaining the lead.”
“What could he possibly say?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a mind reader. He just says things. One time we were discussing Ferraro’s tire strategy and it messed with my head so much I demanded an early pit stop.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t look at me like that—he’s very convincing. Just ignore him, okay? That’s my advice. The strategy is good and your instincts are, too.”
Julien carries Rafael’s warning through the recon lap, all the way until he’s parked at the front of the field for set-up.
While the mechanics cover both cars, Thomas huddles with his race engineer near his front wing. See? He has his own race to worry about.
Rafael thinks he knows Thomas so well because they’ve been teammates for a few years? Try sharing DNA.
“Let’s go over the letters for each plan again,” Davide says, his clipboard in hand.
Julien cracks a smile. “You think I forgot a conversation we had not twenty minutes ago?”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” Davide nods his head forward expectedly. “Plan A?”
“If the mediums are faring well, we’ll stop between ten and sixteen, switch to hards, and ride them out to the end.”
“Plan B?”
“Two stop—medium, soft, soft.”
“Oh good, you are reviewing.” Thomas butts into their conversation with a hand around Julien’s shoulder, shaking him. “This is very important to remember. You need to be prepared for any strategy.”
Julien exhales. It sounds a lot like a groan. “I know. I’ve done this before.”
“Hey,Thomas!” Davide’s voice rises an octave as he stares between the two brothers. “We’ve got it from here, but thank you.”
“You are welcome.” But Thomas doesn’t leave—he drags Julien closer. “You do not mind if I steal my little brother? I will take just one moment.”
Davide grimaces, but Julien waves him off. “It’s fine.”
If he’s expecting mind games, he won’t fall for mind games. Let Thomas try.
Once they’re alone between the two cars, Thomas asks, “How are you feeling? Are you very excited?”
Between Rafael and Davide, Julien’s feeling on edge. “I’m cool. You?”
“It is notmyvery first pole position. I am so proud of you. I will do my best to help.”
“Help?”
Thomas will never settle for second place.
Does he really think Julien is so gullible? It’s pathetic, really.
“The Red Boars, they fight with aggression. It is an easy track to maintain position, but the first lap is hard. If I defend, we can carry it home and earn a Ferraro one-two.Un-deux Dubois.”
It’s a ploy. A ploy visible from space. Julien can see it even without Rafael’s warning or Davide’s concerned stare.
“Yeah,okay.” There’s nothing wrong with pretending to accept the offer if Julien is still going to race just as hard. “Sounds great. Thanks, Thomas.”
“Anything for you,mon chou.” Thomas is so full of shit. “Make sure you angle your wheels to the center when you park. Fritz will drive up the middle, and we need to cut him off.”
