“Have you met his teammate?” She can’t conceal her curiosity about Noah, and I can’t blame her.
“Yeah, he’s not as terrible as stories claim. But he’s still the ass who thought I was Santi’s girlfriend.”
“Que bruto. Someone should’ve raised him better, given him extra love and attention. That must’ve been embarrassing for him.”
“I think that’s his problem. It must be such a lonely life for him, screwing around with whomever and having no one to celebrate wins with. His own family barely comes to the races. Like his dad visits a few times a year, his mom even less. Makes me wonder if there is more to this show he puts on. I doubt he even realizes it though, especially when people like him always think they’re happy until they aren’t anymore. But who knows, I’m speculating, and it’s not fair to judge.” Unfiltered words rush out of my mouth.
“Cuídate. Behind the glitz and glam, people live with lies and unhappiness.”
I change the topic, not wanting to talk about Noah anymore. It feels wrong to expose the small truth he shared with me last night about his parents. My mom and I catch up on plans for the weekend, and not soon after, I hang up the phone and go back to the hotel.
6
Noah
Qualifying on Saturday is the second-best part of racing because a successful Saturday is essential to winning on Sunday. A position for Sunday’s race depends on the qualifier. Getting a sucky start on Saturday means you’re fucked on Sunday, unless you put in extra work to get on top.
Pole positions are my and everyone else’s favorite. I can bounce back from a second-or third-place starting point though, not needing to pressure myself to over-perform. Back of the grid tends to be the worst. I haven’t placed there since the start of my career, always preferring spots between P1 and P3.
Squeals of the tires hitting the road bounce off the pit walls as I walk toward Bandini’s area. Each team has their own garage on the pit lane where the team preps before the race, including small rooms above the workstation where Santi and I get ready. I gear up in my suite for my two practice sessions.
I complete two successful practice rounds like I wanted. My qualifier went even better, landing me the pole position for the Australian Grand Prix. Best spot on the grid. Santiago isn’t far behind, qualifying third, right behind Liam Zander. Not bad for the new guy.
For the sake of the team I want him to succeed, since we also compete together during individual races. I’m not totally selfish. He needs to do well for us to win a separate Championship, the Constructors’， which happens at the same time as the World Championship. A total of twenty-one races and two coinciding Championships.
Santi can settle for winning the Constructors with me because I want to be the World Champion this year. My teammate can keep his shiny consolation prize.
Santiago, Liam, and I attend a press conference meant for the top three qualifiers. I sit between the two of them as reporters hit us with questions.
“Liam, can you tell us about your strategy with McCoy this year?”
“Besides fucking through the McCoy family?” I whisper under my breath, the microphone attached to my cheek not picking up on my voice.
Liam chuckles and shakes his head. We fuck around with one another, keeping the conferences interesting while breaking up our routine.
“Team strategies are the best kept secret. Can’t have Bandini here catching onto all of my tricks, particularly the hothead over there.” Liam points to Santiago over my shoulder. “But we have big plans for the upcoming races, including new specs on our cars. Going to give Bandini a run for their money.”
“What he means to say is the view sure looks nice behind P1.” My gruff voice makes reporters laugh.
“P2 allows me to screw Noah’s car from behind, hitting him at the right angle. Oh, wait. That’s Santiago’s job, my bad.”
I smack Liam’s backward ballcap off his head.
Thankfully, Santiago refrains from any stupid comments this time around. He looks at Liam and me oddly. I let Liam’s comments slide because he’s actually one of my good friends and greatest opponent, at least before Santiago came around. Our verbal sparring makes it on YouTube every time.
Liam’s a German guy who drives with McCoy, another top team. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed man with a god complex. I like him a lot since we became friends during our young karting days. Raced together in the Formula phases and we even competed on the same team when he started, both rising up together.
He acts like a total douche to women, and that says a lot coming from someone like me. I may be an ass, but Liam can be worse. His preppy looks deceive the best of them. A fuck-ton of pressure rests on him this year because his contract with McCoy will expire, and he slept around with the owner’s niece.