Elio stares at me straight in the eye. “The fact that you are one seriously lucky bastard.”
I know what he means without needing clarification. Victoria spoke with him. Whatever she said caused himto extend an olive branch of sorts, even if it’s coated with a hefty dose of derision.
Somehow, she convinced him to get over his scathing hatred and give me a chance. Old Asher would ridicule him for it.
Old Asher also hasn’t done me any favors in life. Victoria went out of her way to help me,again. If I don’t take the opportunity, I’ll effectively be insulting her as well as Elio.
Goddamnit.
“You want to get a drink?” I mutter.
Elio’s posture softens by the faintest margin. “Yeah.”
Half an hour later, we’re at the same bar I took Victoria to when I was wrangling her help. Considering where I am now, I got much more than I bargained for.
Elio and I order drinks and bar food, then sit in silence. Tension lingers in the air like a bad smell, but it’s slightly duller than it was when we went to lunch.
“How?” he asks after several awkward minutes.
“How what?” I volley back. “How am I so handsome? How am I so talented? How—”
“Are youthat fucking insufferable?” Elio says without any real heat. “How did you jump from P22 to P13?” Resentment swims in his eyes. Elio usually holds rank in midfield, but he doesn’t get below P15 very often. He’s solid and has promise, but he’s not great. I think hecouldbe good, but being on a team like Gaston—where mediocrity is the standard—doesn’t help. He’s enabled instead of pushed out of his comfort zone.
Iwas enabled despite the barrage of bullshit I threw at the team. In hindsight, I don’t know why nobody pressed the morality clause of my contract to get me fired.
Our beers are delivered, along with large fries to split. I take a long swig from my drink. “You know how,” I say when I set it down.
“It wasn’t all her. The intern’s good, but nobody’sthatgood.”
I disagree completely. Victoria isn’t justgood,she’s fuckingincredible. “The biggest reason I was failing is because I fell out of love with F1. I’m not a fan of change, and changes kept happening before I made peace with the previous ones—so I decided to just drive without implementing strategy. When I caught up with changes and accepted applicable strategies, my talent and experience did the rest.” But it’s not enough. P13 is solid, but it’s not great.
I only have 2 races to crack top 10, and I don’t see myself getting a podium with my current car. It’s just not possible.
I don’t even see myself getting into top 10 with my current car… but maybe the right mixture of strategy, luck, and driving better than I ever have before will get me there.
And Victoria. I know in my bones I can’t do it without her.
“So you spent years just sitting on talent… because you don’t likechange?” Elio shakes his head, resentment stamped into his expression. “You’re a fucking moron.”
“And you’re still a fucking rookie.” I sniff.
“This is my second season. I’m technically not a rookie anymore.”
“Doesn’t change that you drive like a rookie.”
Elio works his jaw for a while. “So how do you suggest I fix it?”
“Stop being a fucking sellout and carve your own path.”
Elio takes a swig of his beer. “Victoria suggested I redo my strategy.”
I dislike that she put so much thought into Elio, but… “She’s probably right. She knows her shit better than most F1 team vets.”
“Do you know how lucky you are to have managed to get her full-time help despite being such a raging dick?” Elio asks, shaking his head derisively. “You don’t deserve her.”
“You’re right,” I agree easily. I don’t deserve her help, and I certainly don’t deserve the privilege of calling her mine, butdeservehas nothing to do with it. I’m taking both.
Elio’s eyebrows rise. “So. Are you two an item? Isthatwhy she’s helping you?”
