I’m still smiling when I’m done with the drink, and Antonio and Rocco enter the lounge. They don’t see me at first. They’re walking side-by-side, their heads tipped toward each other and scowls on both their faces. The expressions and posture on both of them makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Antonio spots me watching them first and frowns, which makes Rocco look up too. His expression is more welcoming as he strides over and shakes my hand. “Good job, James. I didn’t get to say it yesterday.”
“Yeah thanks. You were M.I.A after the race,” I note and offer him the stool beside me. Antonio walks up just as Rocco declines the chair but orders two espressos from the bartender.
“I was kicked out of the garage,” Rocco replies tersely, his dark brown eyes smoldering with anger even twenty-four hours later. When the bartender puts two espressos on the counter, they each take one and Rocco motions for me to join them as they make their way to a little alcove with three club chairs and a view of the runways.
We all sit down, and Antonio burns his lip as he sips his espresso and swears. I settle back in my chair and Rocco continues to explain. “Antonio wanted to come in on the safety car, and I’m the one who agreed with him, so Frankie lost it and kicked me out.”
She failed to mention this to me, which shocks me, but I don’t disagree with her decision. “Well, listening to her got me the win, so maybe next time we all go with that.”
Antonio looks like he could spit nails at me. “How about next time you have my back instead of kissing her ass?”
Antonio’s never been my favorite person, but we’ve managed a civil working relationship. Now… well that might not continue to be the case. Rocco glances around the room super skittishly, which has the hair on my neck lifting again. He rubs his hands together nervously. “Well, actually… off the record. I don’t think that we’ll have to deal with her much longer.”
“What? Why?” I sit straighter in my chair.
Rocco and Antonio exchange glances and an argument seems to be happening inside that glance. Finally Antonio sighs. “I don’t know if we can trust you.”
“Antonio, I want what’s best for Mirabella and both of us,” I reply. “I’ve always been a team player, and I know you know that.”
Antonio runs a hand through his black hair. “I don’t think Frankie cares about what’s best for the team or us. She cares about her brand and giving her sister the first female F1 seat. That’s all. Then her sister will become this unique little brand just like Frankie. They’re using the team for their own success.”
I do not believe any of that, but telling him will only create a bigger rift between us than the one we have. And he definitely won’t tell me whatever it is he and Rocco are planning. “The team is their birthright, and I guess we have to accept they can do whatever they want with it. If she drops me because she wants to give the spot to Lucia, I’ll find another team. I’ve had a few reach out to tell me they’d be interested, as I’m sure you have. You won’t end up without a team.”
It’s cold comfort, I’m sure. I mean, it feels that way for me anyway. I love Mirabella and don’t want another team. Rocco looks at Antonio again and then turns back to me. “You’re right about that. They technically can do whatever they want. So Antonio and I are going to let them.”
“I’m not re-signing with them after this season,” Antonio tells me.
“And I’m leaving too,” Rocco adds before I can react. “And so is my father. And his money.”
Boom!
That was one hell of a bomb they just dropped. I felt a second of relief when Antonio said he would be leaving because it essentially secured my spot on the team next year. I mean, I figured in the end Frankie and Bash would pick me over him based on my performance alone, but now it’s a sure thing. But Rocco leaving—and Dario along with their financial contribution—that’s a blow. I am slightly worried that might put Mirabella in a precarious position.
“You look worried,” Rocco says and then smiles. “And you should be. Unless you decide to leave too and come join us.”
“Join you where?” I ask.
“My father is working on starting a new team,” Rocco explains. “I’d be Principal. Antonio would be one of our drivers.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Antonio lifts one of his bushy eyebrows. “I think you have a great or fantastic to add to the end of that sentence.”
“Adding a new team isn’t an easy feat. There’s a lot of red tape and hoops to jump through,” I warn. “But of course I’m not against the idea or anything.”
“Well, we may also join forces with another existing team,” Rocco explains. “As a last resort. Lord knows a couple of them wouldn’t say no to the money that my father can inject. And taking his money would mean taking on both me and Antonio. And you, if you want.”
I nod slowly as the idea settles in. I am sonotinterested, but I don’t dare blurt that out. The fact is, I have never been a driver for pay, and I don’t ever want to be one. There’s two types of drivers in F1, those who earned their spots based solely on abilities and those who, although they have decent skills, are in their cars because they brought sponsors or plain old cash to the team.
I can’t understand why Dario and Rocco are so hell bent on keeping Antonio with them. He’s okay but, like Lucia, there are a lot of worthy contenders in F2 who a new team would be stupid not to scoop up. Of course I can’t ask Rocco about that with Antonio right here so I just say, “I think it’s definitely worth considering. And I very much appreciate the offer.”
Antonio leans forward and puts his espresso cup on the small coffee table between us. His eyes lock with mine. “Look, I know Bash is like a father to you. I get it. And I know he’s always said that the Mirabella is his baby. But if he really cared about us, he wouldn’t have dumped us with his inexperienced, hot-headed bitch of a daughter.”
“Whoa now,” Rocco says before I can even object, which I intended to. “Frankie is headstrong and inexperienced, but she’s not a bitch. She’s been through a lot.”
“She lived,” Antonio barks back.
