All I did was say hi and try to get to know him, but he just said, and I quote, ‘I know enough about you’.
Kian’s words are still playing on loop in my mind. What the hell did he mean by that? And how could he know enough about me? There’s no such thing as enough in my book.
Oh. Well, he’s not the most sociable guy with the rest of the drivers, but he and Elijah are close. Maybe he’s just tired or doesn’t fly well or something.
I contemplate his words. Maybe he’s right, or maybe Kian’s bummed that he’s lost his friend and now he’s stuck with me.
Maybe.
I peer through the gaps in the seats at the great Kian Walker. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s curled up on his side, but still he somehow doesn’t look truly comfortable, either.
He’s definitelysomething. Something I can’t quite make sense of, yet.
The plane soars on over continental Europe and my last thought as I fall asleep is how can I convince Kian Walker that he doesn’t know nearly enough about me?
ChapterThree
Kian
It’s day three of pre-season and I finally feel like I’m getting back in my groove. It’s good to be out on the circuit again and in the familiar tight space of the cockpit. For someone who doesn’t like to be crowded, I should probably feel beyond claustrophobic, but it’s actually the one place where I feel completely in control.
These test sessions have been incredible. I’ve seen the improvements they’ve made to the car for this season, and putting it through its paces has made me feel more than confident for what’s to come in my fourteenth season. The media can suck it with their speculation about me bowing out anytime soon.
I’m pulling up into the exit lane and steadily climbing out of the cockpit when I spot Harper James. Lingering. Again.
He. Is. Everywhere.
There’s no escape now. Nothing I can do to avoid him, not even if I tried. I can’t even get out of my car without him hovering around me.
I take a second to hang back, adjusting to being upright again after over an hour whizzing round the track. I stretch out my back and my legs, loosening the muscles that have begun to tense, all whilst surreptitiously studying Harper’s side profile.
His eyes keep darting towards me and I can tell he’s waiting for me to walk past him. I can’t deny I’ve been watching him, too. I’ve watched several of his laps this weekend. On the track he’s something else. He seems to have no self-control at all as a person, but he’s always in control of the car, making decisions that look bold and strategic but which could also just be reckless – and the result of natural talent and instinct. Annoyingly, I watched these decisions have incredible payoffs. After day one, I went back to my hotel room and watched some of his footage. He’s a circuit genius. I wish I could see what goes on in that head of his when he analyses the track, because he drives like he has every twist and turn of the course imprinted on his brain. He always seems to know exactly what’s coming next, and yet he doesn’t overthink things. It’s a level of driving intelligence I’ve seen from only a handful of champion drivers. My reluctant admiration of his technique grows every time I watch him.
And then he opens his mouth and ruins it all.
‘Man, you can really see that you got all the good Tyler Heath genes.’
He’s rushed over to me in my moment of contemplation, my race engineer, Cole, following hot on his heels. I see Cole wince from where he’s crouching to get feedback on the tire feel and I have to stop myself from snarling at Harper as he steps between us.
Harper clocks the look Cole gives me, but is either stupid or deliberately trying to wind me up, because he continues to run his mouth.
‘You take corners just like your dad, man! I’m so jealous. Got that proper fearlessness he used to have.’
Eyes closed, I take a deep breath and slowly remove my helmet. I look straight at Cole, ignoring Harper completely. ‘The C4s felt really good on those laps. I think they’ll be good for qualifying but maybe C2s for the start of the Grand Prix.’
Cole nods. ‘Good to know. We noticed some graining from the tyres in the final laps, so this is something we can take into consideration with our final choices for Bahrain.’ He makes some quick notes on the iPad he’s carrying. Our best technicians and engineers are gathered around the screens, already analysing data from the car and scribbling down stats.
I’ve pushed out close to 120 laps across two sessions today, making my total for the three days 347 – almost as many as my third season record of 368. And if I need to do more then I will, because commitment and dedication and self-discipline are just as important as whatever natural talent you might have. Harper James needs to learn that this is a completely different league to the lower categories, and he won’t last long if he twats about and doesn’t take it seriously.
I’m presented with so many screens showing lap times and data, including my fastest and slowest ten for the day, and all the senior technicians are gathered around. I want to get a proper look at them and take it all in, but Harper’s positioned himself in front of the screens like it’shisinformation they’re reeling off. He’s all wide-eyed and excited like a puppy, and it sucks the energy out of me. Was I like that in my first higher-category season? His enthusiasm makes him seem so young, and makes me feel like an old man. Not that there’s a huge age difference – he’s twenty-five and I’m about to turn thirty-four – but when it comes to racing careers and our levels of experience, it's a lifetime. And I justlovefeeling like an old man when I’m already having to dodge questions about when I’m going to retire.
‘This lap –’ Harper taps at the screen, motioning to my second fastest ‘– was insane. The car looked so aerodynamic as you took the second and third bend that I thought you were going to fly off the circuit, but you seemed so in control.’
There’s awe in his voice and I probably should be flattered by how he’s raving about me, but I’m used to the way Elijah and I worked as teammates. We would take some proper wind-down time and then reconvene back at the hotel to analyse the data with clear heads, calmness and objectivity.
Sometimes I just need a little bit of space when I climb out of the car. Quiet is often impossible when straight away there are cameras in your face and all the pit crew and officials are hovering. I always take myself off to an empty corner, drop into a chair and just breathe for a couple minutes. Everyone who’s been part of the team for a while is used to it, and I wish someone would take the boy wonder aside and tell him to chill the hell out, because he’s really beginning to piss me off. So much of this sport is a mental game and I know what conditions I need in order to perform at my best – and Harper bloody James is definitely messing with the set-up that Elijah and I have honed over the last year. But I’m not good at confrontation so I tell myself that ignoring Harper is the way to go.
He’ll get the message. Or one the race engineers will tell him straight when he pushes too far.
