Page 64 of Until You Say Stay
I turn at the familiar voice and see Luca Rossi cutting through the crowd, sunglasses perched on his dark hair and his trademark grin already in place. My teammate at Ferrari before I was bumped to reserve driver. We’ve been friends and fierce rivals since we were twelve years old, pushing each other to be better on every track from karting to Formula One.
“Luca!” I say, breaking into a smile. He pulls me into a quick back-slapping hug that’s more collision than embrace.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say, stepping back. “I thought you’d managed to get out of this corporate circus.”
Luca shrugs, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes against the bright Miami sun. “Last minute call from PR. They said the event needed someone with actual personality, so naturally they called me. Figured I’d save everyone from the boredom of just having you here.”
“Still an asshole, I see,” I say, but I’m smiling. This is how it’s always been between us—constant competition wrapped in friendship.
I turn to Lark, who’s watching our exchange with obvious amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Luca, this is Lark. Lark, this is Luca Rossi. Only driver on the grid who occasionally gives me real competition.”
“Occasionally?” Luca laughs, shaking Lark’s hand with both of his. “I’m leading you in points this season,amico.”
“I don’t haveanypoints,” I shoot back. “But only because they won’t let me drive.”
“Details, details,” Luca says, turning on the full Italian charm for Lark. “A pleasure to meet you, truly. You’re even morebeautiful in person than in Jack’s posts, which I didn’t think was possible.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Lark says, clearly amused by his shameless flirting. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Jack.”
“All terrible things, I’m sure,” Luca laughs. “I apologize in advance for anything this one has told you about me. Most of it is lies designed to make himself look better.”
“Actually, he speaks very highly of you,” Lark says, and I can see the mischief in her eyes. She leans forward and drops her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Though he did mention you cheat at poker and owe him money from last season.”
Luca throws his head back and laughs, a full belly laugh that makes people around us turn to look. “Only because he can’t accept losing gracefully! And I don’t owe him money, we have a disagreement about whether that last hand counted.”
“It counted,” I say firmly.
“We’ll never agree,” Luca says, waving his hand dismissively before looking between us with open curiosity. “So how did you two meet? Jack never tells me anything anymore.”
“We grew up in the same town,” I say, sticking to our rehearsed story. “Reconnected recently since I’ve been home for the summer.”
“Ah, childhood sweethearts reunited,” Luca says. “This is like a movie, no? Very sweet. Smart move, Jack. You finally got something right in your life. First good decision you’ve made all year.”
“See, that’s what I keep telling him,” Lark says, and I laugh. “Someone needs to keep his ego in check. It’s a full-time job but somebody has to do it.”
Luca looks at her with delight. “You and I are going to be very good friends, Lark. Finally someone who understands how insufferable he can be.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, then his expression turns more serious as he looks back at me.“So, I must know, how are the contract talks actually going? Any real progress with the team? The paddock rumors are flying around like crazy, but you know how reliable those are.”
I shrug, trying to appear casual. “Getting there slowly. Thomas is optimistic about the meetings this week. Today should help. Show my face, remind everyone I clean up well and know how to play the corporate game without causing international incidents.”
“Davis was P14 in the last race,” Luca adds with a pointed look, lowering his voice slightly. “Team’s not happy about his performance. There’s talk in the garage.”
“Their mistake putting him in my seat,” I say, tapping my Ferrari lanyard against my leg. A nervous habit I can’t seem to break.
“Non è giusto,” he says, switching to Italian. “Meriti di essere là fuori.”
It’s not fair. You deserve to be out there.
I respond in the same language, having picked it up from years in Europe, driving for an Italian team. “Non ti contraddirò su questo. Ma devo ancora convincerli che la mia reputazione è nel passato.”
I won’t argue with you on that. But I still have to convince them my reputation is in the past.
Lark gives me a surprised look, her eyebrows raising. “You speak Italian?” she asks.
“Just enough to tell this guy to fuck off,” I reply with a grin. “And order beer. Most of the people working at Ferrari are Italian, plus spending most of my time with this guy…”
“He’s modest,” Luca interrupts. “He actually speaks it very well.Parla come un italiano quando è ubriaco.”
