Shantal
The elevator takes longer than I would like to reach the second floor. I try my best to avert my eyes from so-called André during this time, but he’s a better liar than I am – clearly – and is bold enough to attempt eye contact. I’m confused and insulted all at once. I’m not sure what kind of a sick joke it was for Darien Cardoso-Magalhães to capitalize on the fact that I didn’t know who Darien Cardoso-Magalhães is. It only stings further as I put two and two together, realizing that his stupid smirks and laughs were probably because this was all pretty entertaining as far as he was concerned. Not to mention the fact I’ve now got toworkwith this guy, who made a joke of my ignorance. Is it too late to go back to Clapham?
‘Right this way.’ I lead the two of them, Darien and his trainer, down the hall dedicated to office and board meeting spaces, and into the main conference room.
André –Darien– stops his trainer. ‘I’m just gonna be out here a moment. I have a couple questions for Miss, um, Mangal regarding this facility.’
Celina looks pleased at what she may be misinterpreting as his proactivity. ‘Sounds good.’
She heads inside, and I stare directly at him, my irritation refusing to take a back seat.
‘Oh, so you have a few questions?’ I cross my arms in an almost protective gesture. ‘I think I’ll start with one of my own. Who is André … Darien?’
He flinches a little on the last word – his real name. It’s been quite a while since my tongue was this sharp.
‘Um … me?’ he tries, pairing the sentiment with an extremely uncomfortable megawatt smile.
I just stand there in disbelief. ‘Are you reallysmilingat me right now?’
He gulps like a scolded child. ‘Okay. So. André is not completely my name. Hear me out—’
‘How could I hear you out?’ It’s a miracle I keep my voice even, what with the wave of temper rising in my chest. ‘You are aFormula 1 driverwho is not, in fact, named André. Maybe I don’t know you, but the fact that you thought I was gullible enough that you could lie to my face about youridentityhurts.Why, tell me, should I hear you out?’
‘Because Ilikedyour ignorance. It wasn’t stupid.’
Now I’m even more confused. I squint. ‘What?’
‘I didn’t want you to care about who I was,’ he says quietly. ‘You didn’t even know. I liked that. I wasn’t about to change it.’
I hate to admit it, but that soft tone of his files away at the sharp edges of my internal rage. I feel my hands slowly uncurl from the fists they’ve made at my sides. The tension seeps away.I imagine being in his situation. Poor guy, millions of dollars and fans, multiple cars and houses. Right. But no privacy. No ability to truly know if your circle is real or fake.
‘Hmm.’ I put my guard back up the second I realize it’s coming down. He won’t win me over that easily. ‘At least one of us benefited from your charade,’ I observe.
He does that dumb head-tilt again, peering up at me from beneath the shadow of his cap. He smiles for real, the sort of smile that reaches his eyes, making them narrow happily, and reveals just the right number of pearly whites. ‘If I’m remembering correctly, we both benefited. You got to your hotel safely.’
I feel my cheeks go warm. Ugh. ‘You’re infuriating for someone who’s apparently so loved, do you know that?’
Darien laughs. Initially, his little confession seemed like it could be fabricated, but his casual manner erases any doubt I had of his honesty. Every movement he makes is so easy, from the way he messes with the hem of his T-shirt to the way he twists the back of one of his earrings in thought.
‘So my teammate likes to tell me,’ he replies, rich voice surrounded by a chuckle.
He breezes easily through the door to the conference room. I grit my teeth and file in after him.
We’re about the last ones in. I take my seat beside the Heidelberg team manager, a man named Afshin Demir. He’s not nearly as old as I thought he’d be – the guy is as young as his Formula 1 team. I’d been briefed on him the second I took the project, given that his vision had essentially shaped Heidelberg. Despite the team’s namesake being some exceptionally ancient German man, Demir has built it into a constantly evolving force keen on new talent. I suppose it was this philosophy that made the team decide they would build a training centre in Rio de Janeiro, of all places.
Like the rest of us, Demir is wearing the team shirt and jeans, off-putting given his role on the team. His salt-and-pepper hair is combed neatly off his forehead, smile lines wrinkling his olive skin as he grins in greeting.
All the other spots at the table are filled by six people: Celina, and another five members of staff, all of whom are predictably unfamiliar. It’s possible I’ve seen some of the others in passing, but there’s nothing that sparks recognition. Darien, on the other hand, takes his precious time after I sit down to greet the others with grins, laughs, and a ton of back-slapping. He takes his seat beside a dark-haired man with big brown eyes and a shadow of stubble across his strong jaw. The two of them can’t stop giggling like little schoolkids, elbowing each other and cackling before exchanging an aggressive ‘shh’ and nodding towards an amused Demir.
The team principal stands at the head of the table. ‘Welcome. Or should I say,bem-vindo, Heidelberg. Everyone is thrilled to have you all with us here today in beautiful Rio de Janeiro, as I am sure you will have gathered from the greeting you were given outside.’
I may not have been mobbed by the drivers’ adoring fans, but I did have to suffer through some terrible traffic, during which I got a good look at the mania. Demir is right. The fans are absolutely elated. Brazil clearly loves its sport.
‘Either way, our agenda for today is fairly brief. We will tour, get you all connected to the software, get you IDs, and finish our social media welcome photos. But let’s start with introductions for the newest member of the team,’ Demir begins with a nod in my direction. ‘I’m Afshin Demir, as you know, team principal for Heidelberg Hybridge F1 Team. I’ve headed up the Formula 1 division since the team was formed about ten years back. We are the newest constructor on the grid, which necessitates someextra effort from us in proving ourselves. You may have seen us in the headlines in 2021, with Peter Albrecht claiming our first Drivers’ Championship.’
This sentence earns a couple of proud whoops from around the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Darien bob his head appreciatively.
‘Let’s make it two, why don’t we?’ the man beside him quips, which only increases the volume of the cheers. This team hasn’t even begun their season, and they’re already giddy with excitement.
