“He’slegacy. And legacy brings sponsorships way beyond what we’re paying him. One year with Max could keep this team afloat for years.”
“One year?” I asked. “Is that all he has?”
“He’ll be retiring in a Remini suit at the end of the next tour. He’ll have the American leg, and then a full European and American tour next year.”
I pinched at the bridge of my nose to stop the rising tide. “My contract runs to the end of the year, Magnus. You can’t just kick me out midway through the tour.”
Magnus pushed a sheaf of paper over to me. “Read this, and take it to your agent. Contracts can be bought out early, and I think you’ll find the offer from Remini is more than fair.”
“Where is Mr Jenkins?” I asked, standing so that I didn’t have to look down at the paper, to see what they had determined I was worth. “Why has he sent you to do his dirty work?”
Magnus was quiet when he replied. “Because that’s what I do. The horrible, dirty stuff so they don’t have to see the devastation on your face. They don’t want to acknowledge that their cations have human consequences.”
I crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “I delayed my celebration last night because I thought we would be celebrating a breakthrough today,” I said. I ripped the foil off the top of the bottle and shook the bottle. One quick tap of the bottle on the table and the cork was flying off, champagne pouring over expensive mahogany.
I grabbed two glasses from a side table and filled them messily before passing them to Magnus. He looked down at the glass in front of him in what looked like fear.
“A toast,” I said, taking a sip, “to one of the most successful partnerships in Moto 1 history.” I held out the glass and Magnus hesitated before clinking his with mine. “I just wish you had told me. Not just before the news broke, but when you were negotiating with him. Now I’ll be scrambling to take a Rebel Force or Dragon Racing seat from some poor bastard who does not deserve to lose it.”
“You could take the rest of the season off,” said Magnus. “Enjoy watching the American tour. Take a well-deserved break.”
I actually laughed and then drained my glass in one gulp. “Magnus, I will be racing on that track if I have to take my abuela’s 2002 Renault Clio out racing. Half a season off could be the difference between winning the championship this year, or never winning it.”
Magnus hesitated. “Honestly, Sebastian. You’ve not finished two-thirds of your races this year already. What makes you think you can possibly win the Drivers’ Championship?”
“Honestly?” I grinned. “Spite.”
“Oh my God, are you Sebastian García?” asked the Apple Store sales assistant. I gave an awkward smile, and willed her to keep her voice down. “I love you so much! I thought you were amazing in the race yesterday.”
She turned to her colleague and started jabbering at him in rapid French. I found myself slumping further in my chair as every person in the little phone store turned to look at me. Sometimes, no,always,I hated celebrity. It was my least favourite part of being a driver. It was nice being rich, but I’d have done the job for minimum wage if it meant I could do itanonymously. Maybe I should just never have taken the helmet off. Like the Mandalorian of racing.
I’d got Remini’s driver to take me from Monaco to Nice just to pick up a replacement phone. I had felt slightly tipsy at the start of the journey but now my head was pounding.
“OMG, are you, like, Sebastian García? Can I get your autograph?” said a hysterical male voice. I turned, ready to ask whoever it was to quieten down, only to find Theo Tyler snickering behind his hand like he’d said the funniest thing ever.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Spending my millions,” he replied with a smile. Behind him, a store assistant was balancing a huge pile of boxes on the desk, whilst another kept going out back to get more.
“All for you?” I asked.
Theo looked awkward for a second. “I came in to buy myself a new computer for the villa in Andalucia, but I tend to get a bit of a guilt complex when I spend too much on myself.”
“So you spent even more?” I asked, incredulous. “Does that soothe your guilt?”
“I bought enough iMacs to stock the local school’s IT department,” he said. “And then a couple for any community centres in the area.”
For a second, I was stunned. How was it that Theo Tyler continued to impress me so much, and still surprise me after all this time?
I called over to the store assistant behind the desk. “Could you double his order please? I’ll pay.”
I was vaguely aware that the store had gone quiet around us as people turned to look. The store assistant who had been dealing with my phone coughed and slid my new phone over on top of its box. “There you go, Mr García, that should be all set up just as you left your last phone. Same number, everything saved.”
“Thank you, add it to my bill,” I said.
Theo and I went to pay at the same time. It was a truly astronomical bill. And then my card decided to decline right in front of the whole store, probably because of the ridiculous amount I was trying to spend in one go.
“His contract’s not been renewed, he’s destitute now. Lives on the streets of Nice. You can get a ride in his Toyota Corolla if you ask nicely.” I elbowed Theo in the side, but he carried on regardless as he put his card in to pay for the whole transaction. “Honestly, you should have seen him yesterday. King of the world, but he’s got nothing now. Had to sell his dog for a place to sleep.”
