Page 34 of Overtake
“Inspiring,” I mutter as Nico stifles a yawn. He’s been crunching his schedule since sunrise too, and it shows. “Right.Because that’s exactly how I feel after nine straight hours of setup analysis and media interviews.”
“What was that?” Graham calls from where he’s discussing camera angles with the production team. Of course he’s here. Our punishment is his opportunity.
Bloody wanker.
“Nothing.” I paste on my media smile, the one that’s seen me through a hundred press conferences where I wanted to scream and throw shit. “Just discussing positioning with Nico.”
My partner in crime is giving me the cold shoulder. Probably regretting his chivalry now that it’s cost him valuable prep time before the sprint. But that’s Nico Belmonte for you. Just like Carlos—always taking a stand, consequences be damned.
Had Carlos thought about the cost when he spoke out against the FIA’s old guard? When he nearly lost everything? If the Bettertons hadn’t stepped in for Nico... God, the irony of that. The same family that produced Junior the Creep ended up giving a career to one of F1’s most principled champions.
“Petra?” Nico’s voice pulls me back. The Texas sun emphasizes the shadows under his eyes. “They want us to explain proper racing lines.”
I bite back a response about proper interference in other people’s wars. “Fine.”
“You seem?—”
“Iseemprofessional.” I modulate my voice but keep that smile plastered to my face. Can’t have the microphones catching any honesty. “Like someone who can handle her own problems without uninvited help.” I’m not sure why I’m being bitchy to him. Guilt, probably. He wouldn’t be here if I’d kept my cool in Singapore.
“Places everyone!” The director interrupts. “We’ve got twenty minutes until the students arrive.”
Nico’s expression cools. Good. Fine. It’s better that we keep distance between us. I don’t need a world champion fucking with my head.
The cameras roll as we explain basic racing concepts to an imaginary audience. I focus on the technical aspects, on the pure joy of racing that drew me into this sport in the first place. Not on the politics. Not on the man beside me who apparently thinks I need saving, or the data analysis I’m missing or the recovery session that should be happening right now.
Easy. Happy. Today, you’re Tenacious P who jokes and smiles, not Petra Hayter who wants to knock the shit out of all the wankers holding her back.
“Perfect!” The director beams. “Now maybe show some friendly interaction? You know, rivals finding common ground through teaching.”
I catch Nico’s slight eye-roll and almost smile before remembering I’m annoyed with him.
He crosses his arms. “No. The kids will be here soon.” It seems he’s done manufacturing enthusiasm. “We’ll focus on the actual instruction.”
Ooo. He’s annoyed. At least we agree on—wait. No. No finding common ground. That’s exactly what he wants. Common ground leads to lowered guard. And that’ll give him an advantage on the track.
Fuck that.
Graham appears, radiating faux paternal concern for the cameras. “Remember, we want to emphasize safety. Show these young drivers that aggression isn’t the answer.”
The irony nearly chokes me. His son runs competitors off the track, but we’re the ones teaching safety lessons?
“Of course. We’ll demonstrate clean racing techniques.” Nico sounds smooth, but I’ve already seen his hackles. I’vewatched him enough to know when he’s nearing the end of his considerable patience.
“Excellent.” Graham’s smile never reaches his eyes. It’s creepy. “Though perhaps Ms. Hayter should focus on the technical aspects, given recent incidents.”
Nico tenses beside me, probably preparing another gallant defense.
“I’m well qualified to discuss racing ethics, Graham.I’venever caused a competitor to crash.”
Graham’s smile tightens and mine gets sweeter.
Take that, wanker.
The camera op looks delighted at the tension she’s capturing as Graham’s director distracts him.
“Petra—” Nico starts.
“Stop.” I keep my voice low. “I don’t need you playing head games with me too, Nico. We’ve always been friends. Let’s keep it that way.”
