Page 19 of Formula Dreams
Nash laughs.“As long as they spell my name right on the check.”
The door swings open again, and in walks a man I’ve never seen before—mid-thirties, wearing slim-cut plaid trousers, a cropped black sweater, and thick black glasses perched on his nose.He claps his hands like we’re about to start theater camp.
“Darlings!Good morning!I’m Timmy Grimes, creative director for the campaign, and I’m obsessed with all of you already.”
Lex and I exchange a look, and I can’t help but grin at his infectious enthusiasm.Right behind him is a broad-shouldered man in a crisp white polo and company-logo’d puffer vest.He moves around the room, shaking our hands.“Tom Adler, Drivex marketing director.Thanks for having us.”He looks at his watch and frowns.“We’ll get started as soon as Mr.Barnes arrives.”
Nash leans back in his chair watching Timmy, who hums to himself as he fluffs the silk coverings over the easels as if he’s working an art gallery installation.
“What’s under the covers, Timmy?”
The man wags a playful finger at him.“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he teases.Such a flirt.
Nash winks at him and the man blushes.“Can’t wait.”
The door opens again, and we all crane our necks.
Ronan.
He’s in all black, looking every bit the chic European formula driver.Black jacket, black jeans, black expression.His blond hair is a little messy, jaw clenched.He doesn’t greet anyone—just slides into a chair at the far end of the table, one spot over from Lex.
They don’t look at each other.No handshake.No nod.Nothing.
The air tightens slightly, and I study both Crown drivers.There seems to be a wall of ice between them.They’re teammates, but clearly not on good terms.I have to wonder why.
Timmy claps again, oblivious to the tension, and beams at all of us.“Perfect timing!I’m so happy to meet you all in person.Let’s dive right in and I’ll tell you about this amazing campaign.It’s called ‘The Spirit of Competition.’We’ve billed this as athletic grit meets every day charm.We’re putting FI drivers in everyday situations to highlight your teamwork, humor and natural charisma.We have some really cheeky ideas and you’re just going to love it.”
Nash leans over and whispers, “You were nervous about this?”
I elbow him lightly.
“Pairings have already been locked in,” Timmy continues.“Lex and Nash—you two are our golden retriever duo.Bros to the bone.”
Lex chuckles.“That checks out.”
“Gonna kill it,” Nash says.
“Imagine this,” Timmy says, dramatically pulling off one of the easel’s silk covers to reveal an inspiration board.It shows computer renditions of Lex and Nash, trying to muscle each other out of the way in front of a washing machine.“You two—flatmates for a day.Think modern bromance meets barely controlled domestic disaster.”
Lex raises an eyebrow, amused.“Flatmates?”
“Yes!You’re sharing a space.There’s a wet towel on the sofa.Someone keeps leaving tea cups in the bathroom.The vacuum is a weapon of war.And yet—somehow—you make it work.”Timmy waves his marker like a wand.“We’ll stage it in a flat setup.You’ll be racing to make a bed, folding laundry the wrong way, assembling IKEA furniture without instructions—”
Nash grins.“IKEA furniture?That’s evil.”
“Exactly!But adorable evil,” Timmy says.“We want that effortless banter, the accidental camaraderie.And at the end of it all, you’re collapsed on a broken futon, drinking Drivex like it’s your reward for surviving each other.It’s authentic, it’s ridiculous, and it’s going to charm the world.”He clicks his marker closed.“Tagline: ‘Drivex.Fuel the rivalry, save the friendship.’”
Laughter ripples through the room from everyone but Ronan, who looks quite bored.
“All right,” Lex says with a chuckle.“That actually sounds fun.”
“Darling,” Timmy says, placing a hand over his heart, “it’s going to be art.”
My stomach sinks as Timmy turns toward me, grinning.“And that means Francesca and Ronan will be our fire-and-ice pairing.Smoldering tension.Rivals.Sparks flying.It’ll be brilliant!”
I sneak a peek at Ronan but he seems disinterested, quietly surfing his phone.
Timmy whips the silk off the second easel with a flourish, revealing a mock-up of a supermarket aisle, shopping carts in motion, and two blurred figures racing down opposite ends.
