I feign an overtake and he closes the door casually, like it’s cute I tried. I do it again a lap later, purposefully running wide so he thinks I’m sloppy. I’m a nuisance on the wrong tyre. He’s concentrating on Jack in front of him, and cementing Martinelli at the top of the Championship.
Enough messing. I have to get this done before they pull him in for slicks. I use DRS to level with him on the straight, and as we approach Stowe, I jump on the outside line. We’re tight. So tight I could reach out and touch his car. He expects me to fade, but we’ve come a long way from Bahrain. I clench my teeth together as we hit the apex. He’s going to lift. He has to. He has no grip on this surface. It’s way too dry.
To my disbelief, he does. By the exit, I’m half a car ahead. By Turn 16, he’s not my problem anymore.
What the?—
I’m in a podium position.
Third, baby!
I cautiously look in my mirrors – we’re coming up to another straight – but I’ve just heard Martinelli are going to bring him in for slicks.
I can’t believe this. Third. In a Leone.
I have nine laps to hold down the fort. Most teams have switched to slicks on the now pretty dry track.
‘How are the slicks doing?’ I ask.
‘Bowden just went off at Maggotts and Becketts,’ my race engineer reports.
Woah, even a team like Pagari didn’t make the right call.
I stay on inters for the remaining race, managing to overtake the Alpha Prime (like what?!) on the final Hamilton Straight to finish P2.
SECOND.
ME.
IN ALEONE.
EIGHTEEN WHOLE POINTS.
I jump out the car and dance like there isn’t a camera in my face. It takes everything in me not to weep. I only ever finished third in a Volare – this isunbelievable. The guys back in the garage must be going insane. This is more than any of us could’ve dreamed of, and they deserve every second.
I remove my helmet and push my sweaty hair back to raucous cheers from the crowd. They’re mainly here for Jack, which I’m good with – he won his home race and I’d give anything to win Miami. Today’s the first time in a long time I feel like that’s possible. Man, this is the greatest job in the world.
What even was that race? We’re second, our usual rivals for last place Alpha Prime are third, and Martinelli didn’t even get a podium spot. Envy’s one of the seven deadly sins but it sure feels rich right now. I hope Jules is watching.
A cloud of orange fills the track and I sprint toward them. They raise the Italian flag high as I leap into outstretched arms and we all jump around as chants of‘TIA-GO’ring loud. I’ve never been prouder to be a part of this team. Turns out victory’s a hell of a lot sweeter when you fight tooth and nail for it. We’re two points shy of the next spot in the Championship. Sixth place, here we come.
Chapter 32
JULES
MIAMI
Ireally wish I hadn’t Googled Grupo Inmobiliario Cabrera.
I’ve never officially ‘met the parents’ before. With Damian, his family were always courtside when we used to play in junior championships. His mum used to hand me turkey wraps after matches. They didn’t prepare me to be introduced to aproperty dynasty.
What if Tiago’s family see me as a monolingual interloper? Ignorant euro trash? A pale alien, despite me slathering on extra tan in the Virgin Airways lounge? My dad’s a tennis instructor and my mum was a publicist. We lived comfortably but are hardly in the same league.
You need tocalm the fuck down. It’s not like you’re dating their heir. Is Tiago even the heir? Isn’t he baby number eight? Are his sisters included in the line of succession? And he has millions of cousins – some of whom are on the board page of their supremely swishy website. Where do they sit in line?
The three relatives I have met have been nothing but welcoming. Well, JC doesn’t really engage, but Isa and Trey more than make up for him. What if they’re exceptions to the rule? Tiago’s very, very close with his family, and even thoughI’m squirming at my own pitifulness, I want them to like me. I’m not his girlfriend or anything but?—
Oh my god, what if they think I’m his girlfriend?
