“Relax.” Grinning, I passed him the food.
“You’re a legend.” He stuffed more fries into his mouth as the F1 cars disappeared around the bend for the formation lap, warming up before they returned to the grid.
Settling back into our seats, the drivers looped back after a short time. With motors revving, they pulled up into their starting positions on the grid, in order of fastest to slowest—determined in the qualifying sessions the day before.
The sun set the sky ablaze in dazzling shades of red and orange, reflecting across the bodywork of the cars. A pang of longing twisted through my stomach.
If only Ivy was here to see this.
Red and orange shifted to brilliant shades of violet and blue, anticipation hung in the air as the crowd took a collective breath, waiting for the signal.
At exactly five p.m., the lights went out, then with a thunderous roar, the cars rocketed into motion. As they hurtled towardthe first corner, fighting for position with barely a breath of space between them, the crowd erupted.
Our heads jerked to the left as the cars screamed past, then whipped back to the right when they looped back again.
Anchored to our seats, we watched the race unfold. Lap after lap, drivers went wheel-to-wheel through corners, refusing to give an inch.
Sparks showered beneath the cars as they skimmed the track at breakneck speed, jostling for position and threading through impossible gaps.
Every overtake drew cheers from some sections of the crowd and groans from the others.
After fifty-eight white-knuckled laps, Diego Tierra headed the pack and hurtled toward the finish line. The cheering swelled to a deafening crescendo as he surged across the line.
Archie Jenson shot across the line a split second after Diego, as shouts of joy rang out. And as the remaining cars spilled over the line, the checkered flag waved from above the pit wall—signaling the climax of the race.
As a salute to the spectators—and to celebrate the end of the season—a few drivers spun their cars in circles. The crowd went wild again, and thick streams of smoke billowed from their tires as they spun into doughnut maneuvers.
“Yes!” I jumped out of my seat. “He’s got a podium finish.”
“He bloody well did it!” Dyson shook his head in wonder. “That’s our boy. He always was a madman behind the wheel. I’ve got to give it to him. He’s got talent.”
“A podium finish! That’s fucking insane. He might give you some driving tips. Maybe then you can keep your car on the road,” I joked as I shoved him.
“Come on, smart-ass, let’s get down to the podium for the ceremony,” said Dyson with a wide grin. “Archie said if he was on the podium, he wanted us down there.”
I took in the sea of people engulfing us. “Bro, have you seen the crowd?”
“Archie’s sorted it with security,” Dyson said calmly. “We just need to give the word, and they’ll take us there. Remember… VIPs, baby.”
We made our way to the top of the stadium and found two security guards, who, with us close behind, cleared a path through the crowd to the podium.
The winners stood proudly as we watched from nearby while Diego shook hands with the Sheikh, who presented him with the gleaming silver Formula One World Drivers’ Championship trophy.
A few spectators pumped their fists into the air as the crowd erupted in cheers. With a broad smile, Diego raised the silver trophy high above his head.
Archie stepped forward next, then the Sheikh congratulated him warmly before presenting him with his trophy. Another wave of cheering rolled through the crowd and, flashing a grin, Archie lifted the trophy triumphantly into the air.
“Go, Archie!” I yelled, clapping.
“You did it, Archie!” Dyson shouted, clapping beside me.
Lars Visser, the driver who took third place, accepted his trophy, moments later all three drivers shook magnums of champagne, showering each other and the crowd.
Archie scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on me. Grinning, he pointed and waved before throwing us an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.
The moment Archie singled us out, the photographers swung their lenses toward us. When my face appeared on the screen, I turned away as they zeroed in.
***
