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Chapter Eleven

Darien

‘T ake a look at this data.’

I’ve seen my data a million and one times before, but I let Celina, Afonso – my engineer for the past three years – and Shantal walk me through it all again. She looks slightly less unhappy with me than she did yesterday, at track walk. I spin idly in my chair at the counter of the Ring’s pit wall. Shantal had requested our most recent testing stats to make a start on calibrating all the training tech and regimens, which, for me and Miguel, meant our Pirelli tyre tests from December in Barcelona, and for Henri, the free practice he’d done for Heidelberg last season at Abu Dhabi.

Afonso pulls up a graph of speeds on turns, peaks and troughs, indicating measured speeds for each turn number at Barcelona. He zooms in on the Turn Fourteen section, the toughest one on the Spanish track, a ridiculously fast right-hand that sends the best of drivers for a toss. There’s a yellow and green zigzag on the graph, and though the yellow arcs over the green, both represent the same value: turn speed over the course of the corner, averaged from the total practice laps.

‘Green is the averages we calculated for Miguel’s Turn Fourteen,’ Afonso explains, turning to Celina. ‘And yellow—’

‘That’s you,’ finishes Celina, tracing the line on the screen with an index finger. ‘Your turn speeds are outrageous, as I’ve heard. But seeing the numbers … you’re tens of kilometres – miles, sorry, American boy – ahead of your teammate.’

‘There’s more than turns,’ adds Shantal. She locks eyes with me, an eyebrow raised. ‘You have a pretty odd driving style. You speed right through corners. You weave faster than the clips I watched of the others. We looked at your race tapes, too. You overtake mostly by forcing opponents wide and utilizing that gap quite aggressively. Your defence is immaculate.’

‘Watched my race tapes. High praise,’ I remark, and shoot her a mischievous smile that sends her gaze far from mine, turning her cheeks pink.

She clears her throat. ‘Well. Where did you learn to drive like that?’

‘Here.’

Shantal blinks. ‘Sorry?’

‘I learned here. In the street.’

She appears to be processing this information very slowly and deliberately. Then, ‘Sure, okay. But I would, respectfully, like to see how. Because, Darien, if we can implement that into the programming in the simulator, if I can figure out exactly what you learned and use those exercises on a simulated track …’ She shakes her head. ‘All three of you would be absolutely deadly for this season. And I can tell you the Ring has the resources to make that possible, if I can just crack exactly how.’

‘That’ll be a challenge,’ Celina chuckles, echoing my thoughts exactly. ‘You don’t know how he got his start, Shantal? It’s an urban motorsport legend.’

‘I’d like to see it for myself,’ she insists. ‘This really could help in developing a program, as I’ve said.’

I tilt my head. ‘You did say you wanted to go up to Cantagalo, didn’t you?’

‘Darien …’ Celina’s tone is warning. She obviously knows exactly what I’m about to do, and she’s not buying it.

Shantal is quick to notice. Her big brown eyes narrow, making the dark liner around them stand out. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘Let’s leave the matter where it is, Shantal,’ Afonso puts in with an awkward cough.

‘I’m kidding, anyway,’ I say with a laugh that earns me a sharp nudge of Celina’s elbow.

‘Yes.’ Shantal doesn’t look amused. ‘Darien, how about we have a bit of a chat, may we?’

I exchange a glance with Celina. She widens her eyes at me as if to yell, WHY? I just shrug and follow Shantal. We leave behind the monitors and headsets of the pits for the open garage, where Shantal stops. I mimic her.

She crosses her arms. ‘I’m not joking.’

I don’t know whether to laugh or yell at her. I settle for a fairly even tone, the most serious one I’ve got. ‘Listen, uh …’ I gulp. ‘I don’t know if this is the kind of thing I would want to have someone do, Shantal. I get that you want what’s best for the team, but I can’t offer you this. It’s dangerous, no matter which way you look at it.’

I know I’m not the most straitlaced of people, but I mean every word I say. This is beyond me poking fun at Shantal. I won’t have her in harm’s way.

‘You showed me around,’ she persists. ‘And besides, you do owe me this. For the massive lie you fed me.’

Okay, so that’s true. I probably do owe her. Just not this. Still, I don’t want to tell her point-blank that the activities I am referring to are the perfect way to land one’s ass either in hospital or behind bars, whichever gets to you first. But she’s adamant, standing toe to toe with me, determination all over her face. She won’t hear an argument. She keeps her arms crossed and gets comfortable, like she’d stay here the entire day if she had to. A tingling creeps into my chest as I realize just how close we are, just like when we were arguing over her vision for pre-season and testing. My line of sight sweeps over her subtle curves, perfectly tanned legs. If someone pushed me from behind, it wouldn’t take much for our bodies to collide, and honestly, part of me wants that more than anything right now. Dude . I shove that part into a box and duct-tape it twice around. There’s no way we’re doing that right now. Not at work.

‘Being in that car is a threat to your life,’ I amend my warning, fighting off an embarrassing crack of my voice to boot. ‘Driving the way I learned to drive. You could die.’

‘What, are we drag racing?’ Shantal prods.

I just continue to look at her with as much warning and/or pity as possible.

‘Stop.’ Her expression contorts into a semblance of what people look like when they see a car crash in real time. ‘No.’

‘You said you wanted to go!’ I protest. ‘And it’s not a straight shot or a race. I’d just take you through a favela, how I used to practise.’

‘I’m sorry – you took a car around corners through the favela, as in the neighbourhood that’s relying entirely on a hill to remain intact ?’ Shantal gasps. That did it. She’s singing a whole different tune now. ‘Darien – forget me. You absolutely cannot be allowed to do that. We cannot have any injuries before this season.’

‘We won’t if you back out of this.’

‘Funny, I recall even your trainer saying human error can happen,’ snaps Shantal, turning away.

I grit my teeth. Insufferable . ‘You know what? We’re both going. Tonight.’

She holds her hands up. ‘I never would have asked if I’d known what the hell this was!’

‘Oh, so now you don’t want to find out how “all three of us could be absolutely deadly”?’ I throw on an especially whiny voice to parrot hers.

‘Ugh!’ Now it’s her turn to become so frazzled that she gives in. ‘Fine! Is there another set of gear I can wear or something?’

‘Gear?’

Shantal’s mouth falls open. ‘You have to be kidding me.’

‘Who wears gear driving a damn passenger vehicle?’

‘Darien!’ she yelps. ‘Tell me now what the horsepower is on that passenger vehicle and then try to convince me we don’t need gear!’

‘You’ll find out,’ I reply plainly. ‘Meet me at the gym doors at ten tonight.’