Page 34 of Racing Hearts
“I haven’t been karting in so long…”
“Really?” There was no hiding the disbelief in my voice. “Figured when you weren’t on your simulator, you’d be on a karting track outside Monaco.”
“Just haven’t had time this year.” She shrugged. “I’m looking forward to the small break after Monaco.”
“…so you can go do more racing?” As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I almost regretted my snide tone.
Georgia scrunched her nose. “I dootherthings.”
“Ah yes. Like paint,” I teased.
She made it too easy.
“Keep up the attitude, Rossi, and I might just drag you to an art exhibition when we’re in Monaco.” Her smug face told me exactly how uncultured she thought I was, and I almost wanted to take her up on the offer just to prove her wrong.
“Good. It might be nice for us to be seen doing something other than racing.”
She scoffed, but said nothing else. My point had been made.
Antonio returned with a tray of sandwiches piled high with prosciutto, mozzarella, and fresh basil. Absolute heaven.
Georgia reached for one immediately. “So, any movement on the Helios Sunglasses sponsorship?” she asked between bites.
“No,” I sighed. “Not surprised. To make matters worse, Anthony’s dad has offered Hermes some additional funding if the Helios Sunglasses contract doesn’t come through.”
I couldn’t bring myself to mention the requirements, although I suspected Georgia could make an educated guess as to what they were. There’s only one reason the father of a wannabe driver would offer millions of euros to a team.
Georgia sighed. “I can’t imagine his terms being worth it. The team would get more money from having a second driver scoring in the top ten and getting points for the team than taking Anthony’s family money. The fans aren’t going to accept a subpar driver, not from Italy’s oldest racing team.”
Every time a driver scored in the top ten, the teams got points which turned into money at the end of the season, but I knew I’d have to do a hell of a lot better than one second-place finish to replace the funding they would get from Anthony. I needed to keep getting on the podium.
“So,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Feeling ready for Monza this week?”
No.
“Yup,” I lied, emphasizing the “p” at the end.
Every mention of Monza made my chest tighten, but of course, it was all anyone wanted to talk about. I knew I couldn’t admit the truth, couldn’t tell her how terrified I was of the upcoming race. How I’d barely slept this week.
Of all the drivers on the grid, I hated the idea of Georgia knowing my weakness. She was strong and confident—she reminded me so much of my father. Fear had never been his weakness, and it certainly wasn’t hers.
Georgia assessed me with another blink. “How does Antonio know your father?” she asked finally. A better subject change; she learned quick.
“I used to race here a lot as a kid. It was my favorite track, and my father brought me here anytime he had a spare weekend.” My throat tightened as I choked on my words, hating how small I sounded.
I looked out at the track, blinking against the bright sun, and there it was: my childhood. The podium where I’d stood at age seven, beaming up at my father while he clapped like I’d just won a world championship. Some of my best memories with my father were at this karting track.
I could still remember that feeling of watching my dad cheer me on. That look of pride in his eyes. In Miami, I’d had a taste of that euphoria again, a reminder of what it was like to win. Part of me wanted more.
“Why did you enjoy this track so much?” Georgia’s question brought me out of my haze.
“It’s like you said, the twists and turns are fun. Plus, it was close enough to home, so my father and I were able to race here together whenever he had a break.”
“I noticed a photo of you and your father in your driver’s room, is that from this track?” I nodded, once again taking a moment to gaze out over the active karting race.
“I used to love it here,” I said finally.
“Used to? Well, sounds like we have some work to do then.”
