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CHAPTER TWELVE

NICO AND ROCCO

She wasn’t looking to finish in the top ten and earn any points. That was next to impossible at this point unless someone crashed. Besides, given this was her first race, no one expected her to—not even herself.

There were just two things she was praying for—not to lose her position, and not to be lapped.

Thank goodness she didn’t have to worry about the annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick lapping her. Rocco had started from #13. He was just up ahead. Right now, there was only one car between them.

She wondered if he’d ever started a race that far back. In fairness to him, he’d been unlucky during qualifying when two drivers slammed into each other and went spinning off the track. He’d narrowly escaped major impact, but not without doing some damage to the car.

Race Engineer: Nico, just keep doing what you’re doing.

You picked up pace on this lap. Just be careful on the turn up ahead.

Don’t look to make any move. Shepperd is coming up behind and might try to pass.

Hug the corner as tight as you can and force him to pass on the outside if he makes an attempt.

Nico: Copy.

The turn was just up ahead. She could feel Shepperd’s car creeping up on the inside. There was no space for him. Did he think she wouldn’t or couldn’t hug the turn? Was he thinking she would give way and he would crowd her out? She’d move over and give him an engraved invitation?

Think again , she thought as she took the turn, hugging the inside.

Race Engineer: Good, Nico, good. Okay, you can push on the straight ahead. You’ve gained a second on the car up ahead. Let’s look to pass him on the next lap. Push. Push. Push.

Nico: Copy.

Nico went all out. The car was just up ahead. She was gaining on him. If she could just pass him, that would put her at #14—right behind the annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick.

Rocco: Something’s not right. It’s not handling right.

Race Engineer: Okay, Rocco. We’ll look into it after the race. Just hold steady; you’re coming up to the last lap.

Rocco: Where are Clarke and Anker? They’re not going to lap me, are they?

Radio silence.

Anker had started the race in pole position, first place; Clarke in second.

Rocco: Hey! Did you hear me?

Race Engineer: They’re setting a blistering pace, but we don’t think so, no. Not if you can just hold steady.

Hold steady at #13. Fucking #13! He’d never started this far back in the grid. At this point, the way the car was handling, he’d given up hope of making a move to pass anyone. The most he could hope for was that he’d hold position and finish the race without being lapped.

He’d never been lapped. Not once. Not even as a kid racing karts.

Never. Never. Never.

Never.

All he wanted now was for this race to be over. And for the engineers to fix whatever the hell was wrong with this car before the next race.

Race Engineer: You’re doing brilliant, Rocco.

Rocco: Thirteenth is hardly brilliant.

Race Engineer: Given the bad luck during qualifying and the trouble with the car, a lesser driver would have—

Rocco: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Maybe there was some significance to the fact he would finish at lucky number thirteen. Maybe this would be rock bottom. He certainly hoped so. It had to be. Things could only get better from here on out. How could they possibly get any worse?

She was gaining on him.

Race Engineer: Nico, back off some. Just hold position.

Nico: Why?

She could hear Casey yelling in the background.

Race Engineer: Just hold position. You gained two positions. Remember, it’s your first F1 race.

Nico: But I can do it. There’s room on the inside. I can see it.

Casey: Tell her to hold position!

Why? So, the annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick isn’t beaten by a woman? Driving the same car he is?

I came here to race, and that’s what I’m going to do.

She approached from the inside, but as she started to inch forward, he drifted over.

Fine , she thought, slipping to the outside.

She was so intent on passing him that at first she didn’t see the car behind her pick up the pace and move to pass.

When she did, she jerked left to avoid a collision, and the car went speeding past, which would have been fine if Rocco hadn’t moved right, trying to muscle her to the outside.

Nico caught a flash of metal in her peripheral vision just before they crashed and went spinning off the track.

Anker zipped by them, lapping them both, followed closely by Clarke doing the same.

The damage was extensive enough that those two cars weren’t the only ones to pass them.

The one good thing the team had to say to them when they entered the paddock after limping across the finish line was that it was impressive that they’d finished the race at all.

At least I didn’t come in last , thought Nico.

That honor was reserved for one annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick.