Page 11

CHAPTER 11

Connor

Margot, the ten-year-old I’m showing around Coulter offices and the factory, stares at the Lego car in our display area.

I smile as she investigates it from every angle, but I’m distracted by my recent chats with Senna. I shouldn’t tease her to avoid serious conversations, but I can’t talk to her about the race.

I want to be the racing driver I used to be, but there’s no chance. At least I survived my first race.

I glance at one of Niki’s old helmets sitting on a display stand. If he’d been me in the last race I’d probably tell him he needed sleep and to focus on how to stop being scared about getting in the car. I tried some tactics, like blinking several times before the race. They seemed to release enough tension so I could get in the car.

I look at the helmet again. Niki would probably tell me to suck it up and drive.

I’m training all I can, and Silas is impressed with my progress. Then there’s Senna. I’m lucky our radio conversation got me through the race, but I can’t rely on her to speak to me every time. Senna is more than a coping mechanism. Did I really declare to her that I’d rather die than hurt her? Fucking adrenaline. I’ve replayed her big hazel-eyed stare and gasp too many times in the last few days.

And I can’t stop myself from cheeking her even when I should be an example to others and show her respect. At least I haven’t made her cry again.

I crack my knuckles, drawing a stare from Margot. I smile, and she returns to the car.

I wouldn’t know if I made Senna cry again. She hides everything and thinks she has to do it all alone. I want to support her, not hinder or protect her. Instead, I end up flirting with her.

I hold my hand to my face.

Margot squeals. The car Niki drove two years ago in the British GP draws her like a magnet.

“You could drive something like this in ten years,” I say, walking to the turquoise and black racing car.

Margot stares at me. She’s taken everything in on the tour, asking questions about my career, skills, and training. She reminds me of Senna when we raced each other.

“Your mum says you’re winning against kids older than you at karting,” I say, looking at her mum, who nods enthusiastically. “You could be just like me one day.”

“But women can’t be racing drivers,” she whispers.

“Of course they can,” I reply.

She trails her finger in the air as if she’s too scared to touch Niki’s car.

“There are no female F1 drivers, and Tawny Mackay is the only woman in F2.”

“True.” I nod.

She stares at me. “And one of the boys I race against told me there’ll never be a woman in Formula One because they’re not good enough. And he even said women shouldn’t be in racing.”

I take a deep breath and stare at Margot. “He’s wrong.”

She furrows her brow as I continue. “I knew a female racing driver who was better than every male. She won races all the time. The boys bullied her and told her she wasn’t good enough, and they tried to stop her, but do you know what she did?”

Margot shakes her head. Her eyes are wide, and I struggle not to smile.

“She beat them on the track. She also told them what she thought about them, and although that made them mad, they couldn’t say anything back to her because she was the best. I raced against her, and she beat me all the time. She was incredible, the best racing driver.”

Margot stares at me. “What happened to her? She’s not racing now.”

“She stopped, but what she’s doing now is better. She’s always been a pioneer for women in racing.”

“What is she doing?” Margot asks tentatively.

“She runs Coulter Racing,” I say. I sense someone other than Margot and her mum watching me. I look to the doorway of the display room, and my eyes lock on Senna’s beautiful hazel-eyed stare. How long has she been listening? Her soft gaze makes me want to tuck the wave of hair falling out of her ponytail behind her ear. She’s stunning. The corners of her mouth curve into a smile.

“She was the communications director but now manages the entire team. She makes the success of the entire team possible. She knows about cars, people, tracks, racing, and everything else! All the things that happen during a race and in the background during the week wouldn’t be possible without her.” I stare at Senna as I add, “She may not be racing as a driver, but she is a racing leader. She’s all-powerful, and I’m lucky I call her boss.”

Senna’s throat bobs as she swallows.

“She sounds amazing!”

“She is. And if you’re really lucky, she might say hello to us today.”

That gets me a full smile, and Senna walks up to us, tapping Margot on the shoulder as I introduce her. “Meet my boss, Senna Coulter.”

Margot gasps and beams as she stumbles over her hello.

“Hey, Margot. So you love racing? What’s your favourite track?”

Margot’s hands dance as she talks animatedly about the tracks she’s visited and the ones she wants to go to. Soon, they’re talking about races, and Senna is giving her tips on improving her corners and the tactics she used to overtake.

“Thank you,” I mouth over Margot’s shoulder.

She winks back at me, and my stomach does a weird bubbling thing.

“How would you feel if I watched one of your races sometime? Maybe I could chat with those boys and tell them about women in racing. I’ll bring my lead mechanic, Jackie Mackay, and one of my old helmets for you to keep when you’re big enough for it,” Senna says.

“Can she, Mum? Can she?” Margot screams.

Her mum nods, but her face drops. Senna picks up on it, too, and as I lead Margot towards another part of our display area, Senna remains with Margot’s mum.

“Miss Coulter also wrote ‘Boys suck’ on her brother, Niki’s, racing car. She doesn’t care what boys think of her and will fight them.”

Margot giggles. Senna’s laugh hits me hard in the chest. Her eyes twinkle as she shakes her head at me. “You’ll get me in trouble, Dane.”

I beam back at her before pointing out another car to Margot.

Senna and Margot’s mum are chatting. I miss most of it, but when Margot is distracted by one of Ralf’s old racing suits, I watch Senna pull out a business card and write something that could be a phone number on the back. A tear runs down Margot’s mum’s cheek.

“Thank you, Miss Coulter. My girl loves racing, but I didn’t think we’d have the funds to do it much longer.” She hugs Senna, and the bubbles in my belly turn into butterflies.

Shit.