Page 53 of Dirty Air
“Ha!I knew it.” Adam pumps his fist with excitement. “Don’t worry, we have our own photographers. We’re better at this than he is.”
The man grins, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, and it really feels like everything—the reporters, the fans, Henry—everything is handled. It’s all figured out and taken care of.
Fritz releases a shaky exhale and smiles. “It is so silly, these publicity games. I mean, it is not like he could offer me anything without my manager there. Why get my hopes up when he only wanted a photo?”
“So he did talk to you?” Adam’s smile wavers, but pops back into place. “No, of course not. He’s got Santiago and Finn, he wouldn’t—and you still have another year on your contract with VFIBR.”
“Oh wow.” Fritz tries to suppress a laugh, but a chuckle still bubbles up. “I am sorry, it is notha-hafunny, but he said Red Boar would say that—about my contract.”
Their food arrives and Fritz thanks the man who sets his salmon down in front of him. It’s beautiful, if not a tad smaller than expected. Maybe he could’ve splurged after all.
Adam doesn’t seem to notice the food. Once the staff leaves he asks, “Why would he bring up your contract?”
“He mentioned that Mercenary has bought drivers out of contracts. He, uh, offered to buy me out of my contract.”
“It wasreal?!” Adam slams his fist on the table, causing the plates to jump. “That stupid fuckingpoacher!”
His wife lays a gentle hand on his forearm. “This isn’t the scene you wanted. Remember the pictures.”
“What else?” Adam has lost his reassuring smile. His attention is far away from any pictures and focused solely on Fritz, who suddenly feels very small. “Tell me everything he said.”
Fritz looks away, down at his own plate, and tries to focus on separating a chunk from his salmon. “Uh, he asked about my loyalty to the Red Boar brands.”
“And you said none, because you’re a driver looking to get a better car. Of course, go on.”
Oh. Well, he took that better than expected.
“He knew my sister got married.”
“Did you post about it on your social media?” Adam hums when Fritz shakes his head. “Okay, so he did some research. Whatever, I can do research too. What else?”
“He talked a lot about Germany. About Mercenary engineers and mechanics speaking German. My father taught me car parts in German, and sometimes I have difficulty with English.”
“We also have German guys, of course. Germans make good cars, good engineers, and good mechanics. Don’t need a whole fucking factory of them to talk to, though.”
Adam furiously saws through his steak until he’s cutting the plate.
What else had they talked about? “The team’s sponsors. Sven said they would pay extra if I could do ads in German.”
“Such a good fucking argument.” Adam stuffs some steak in his mouth and chews while he thinks. As soon as his mouth is free to do so, he asks, “He offer you a house? German countryside?”
“He told me I should move closer to home, to be near my sister’s kids.”
“Your sister has kids?”
“Not yet.” It didn’t strike Fritz as odd, though. “She’s always talked about having a big family so, really, it is just a matter of time.”
“How the fuck.” Adam is nearly scarfing down his steak now.
Not wanting to fall behind, Fritz finds himself hurrying through his own meal to keep pace.
“He didn’t talk about money, right? Too smart to do that when your dad wasn’t there.” Adam’s throat bobs as he swallows another chunk of meat. “Anything else? Any more leverage?”
“I had, um, a request for him.”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to keep my race engineer, Henry.” Something primal tells Fritz to lie. “And Sven… agreed. Said he would be willing to offer him a contract.”
