“Shhh!” Matt glances around and takes note of anyone who might be within earshot.
Their PR person can definitely hear them. Would she be more interested in selling Robert’s story or in protecting Andes? How large of a payout could she get? He is a very popular driver.
“Hey, man, it’s okay. You can let go of me.”
Matt hadn’t even noticed his vice grip on Robert’s arm. He pulls back, shoving his hands into his pockets so it doesn’t happen again. “You need to be careful about that sorta stuff,” he whispers. “You don’t want to lose sponsors. Or worse, your seat.”
“My seat?” The corner of Robert’s mouth pulls up into a smile. “Yeah, I’d like to see them try.”
Why is he treating it like a joke? Why did he always treat everything like a fuckingjoke?Even the great and mighty Robert isn’t infallible. One day, someone with a grudge is going to find out, and his world will crash down around him.
“Seriously, what’s up with you?” Robert’s eyebrows draw together. “You aren’t, like, homophobic now, right? Cause I have some pretty bad news about Laurent, if that’s the case.”
“No!No, but—y’know. The racing world is old fashioned. You should really—you shouldn’t say these things so loud, soflippantly. You never know who could be listening.”
“Jesus, you sound just like Dad.”
Matt nods, relieved that it’s finally sinking in. “Yes, exactly!”
“What do you mean ‘exactly’?”
“Like your dad said—the racing world isn’t exactly ready for change. It isn't open or accepting. You just—” Matt nods to the side and lets the rest of the sentence hang in the air.
“You just what?”
Matt huffs, keeping his voice low. “Y’know, just keep it to yourself.”
Robert pulls back, his eyes widening.
Oh fuck, Matt might have overstepped again. “Not forever! Just until we’re done racing. Then, you know, it’s fine. ‘Cause you don’t need like, sponsors and companies and stuff when you retire.”
“My dad told you that?”
“That’s…” Where did he get lost? “That’s what we’re talking about, right?”
Robert stands in silence, his face twisting into confusion. “When did he say this? Like, recently?”
Matt shakes his head. “When we were all on the road. Back when he was still my manager—before Form 4.”
“Fuck.” Robertpats his pockets, his hands scrambling. “Fuck, I left my phone in— I don’t—Fuck.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, uh—I just need to make a call real quick.” Robert looks between Matt and the back of the stage. “Can you go on without me?”
“Rightnow?!”
It’s past time for them to be on stage. The announcer is just waiting for the applause to die down before calling their names.
Robert looks like he’s about to bolt, so Matt grabs the bottom of his shirt and begs, “Please, don’t make me go out there alone.” Robert is popular enough to hold down the fort by himself, but Matt? He’ll be booed off the stage. “Please.”
“I’m so, so sorry.” Robert pries Matt’s fingers off until he’s free. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Robert jogs over to their PR person and then runs off, leaving Matt horribly,horriblyalone.
A stage manager ushers him towards the stairs with, “Where’s Robert?”
“Uh… sick?”
