Page 44 of Cross the Line
Thinking about her post from the other night, I step to the side, letting her pass. Everything she’s done so far has been perfect, giving fans the glimpses into my life they’re begging for, though never enough to make me feel uncomfortable. She’s been careful to keep the balance between personal and professional. Yesterday she even suggested a series of posts that focus on my relationships with the team members I work closely with – a gratitude tour of sorts, to show my appreciation for what each one of them does for me. In comparison, Jani shared more shots of me shirtless in the gym than anything else. It was as if her go-to strategy was to make me look like a self-absorbed prick.
After Willow strolls off, I turn to Chava, rolling my eyes at his knowing expression. Between his leering grins and Mark’s disapproving comments, it’s like having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I just don’t know who’s who.
‘Don’t say anything,’ I warn him.
‘I wasn’t going to.’
‘But you were thinking it.’
A wicked grin splits his face. ‘Guilty as charged.’
I sigh and reach around him to grab my helmet from the shelf. ‘I don’t have time for this.’
Chava clasps his hands behind his back and rocks back on his heels, ever the menace. ‘Good luck today,’ he mocks in a shitty imitation of Willow’s voice.
‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘Take a number, cabrón.’
——
Once I’m in the car, the bullshit floods away.
The engine rumbles behind me. My helmet narrows my vision so the asphalt and the cars in front of me are all I see – including Nathaniel ahead on the right. The sight of him fills me with determination. Goal number one today: get around him as soon as possible. Though that’ll only be possible if the Omega Siluro in the grid spot ahead of mine gets out of my way.
Which, of course, doesn’t happen.
He’s slow off the line, leaving me to cut right, but Nathaniel makes a solid getaway, forcing me to slot in behind him. I stay close through lap one and keep my cool despite his dirty air slowing me at every turn, but the slipstream in the straights is worth it. By the time DRS kicks in, I have no doubt that I can pass him.
I give it another few laps, getting a little more heat in my tyres until the car feels comfortable under me. I’m in my sweet spot, ready to push, knowing I can climb higher.
There’s only one problem – my teammate won’t get out of the fucking way.
He’s defending like his life depends on it, which will be misery on his tyres, especially this early on. His race engineer is probably telling him to take it easy, to preserve the two-stop strategy for new tyres, but this guy is itching to ruin that.
‘I need to pass him,’ I tell Branny over the radio, ignoring his calls to ease off Nathaniel’s back wing. ‘My pace is at least a half second faster.’
There’s a beat of crackling silence before Branny announces, ‘Negative, you do not have permission to race.’
I’m blindsided by the call. As it stands, we’re both outside the points, and in order to change that, either I have to pass my teammate or a handful of people in front of us need to run into considerable trouble. So why won’t they let me do what’s best for our standing in the Constructors’ Championship?
Actually, that’s a stupid question. I already know why.
‘Then make it team orders,’ I demand. ‘Tell him to let me pass.’
‘Negative,’ Branny says immediately. Not even a second of thought goes into the answer. ‘Maintain and defend.’
That’s absolutebullshit. Even the commentators have got to see that my pace is better than Nathaniel’s. If he let me through, I’d easily be seconds ahead of him. And there’s a chance I could catch up to the McMorris in tenth.
But no, I’m stuck defending for my sack of shit teammate who only knows how to check his mirrors when I’m behind him.
I fume for sixty more laps, mentally cursing Nathaniel and Buck and every person who enables them, until I cross the finish line.
If I hadn’t made up my mind before, I have now. I’ve got to get out of here.
CHAPTER 15
Willow
