Page 159 of First in Line

Evie’s gaze lands on the steering wheel sitting on a nearby workstation.

“What the hell is that?”

I pick it up and place it in her hands carefully. “About four hundred grand’s worth of buttons that control pretty much the entire car.”

She stares at it. “You operate this while driving at one hundred miles an hour?”

“Two hundred, sometimes.”

“That’s deeply concerning.”

“It is what it is. Come, we don’t have long before twenty different people try taking me away from you.”

“This place is like a beehive,” she lets out as we walk around.

“Yeah. And here’s the queen. Hi, Rosie,” I say, greeting the team principal.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t PR looking for you?”

“It’s my do-not-disturb time. Justine can wait. Rosie, this is Evangeline Gillian. Evie, this is Rosamund Pattersen, the team principal. You two probably met, like, ten years ago.”

“You seem familiar, yes. Enjoy the visit and the race,” she politely says before moving on with her job.

Taking Evie’s hand, I guide her out through the side access, past the narrow corridor that leads toward the pit lane. We stop at the opening before the pit wall. On the other side of it, the main straight stretches out, crowded with people who have VIP passes, taking pictures and filming. The grandstands are full to the brim as well. The wind carries their noise even this far back. We step onto the pit wall access bridge, and I wait for security to nod at us. We’re through in seconds.

On the other side, the pit wall is already full. Engineers sit shoulder to shoulder with their headsets on. The screens glow with telemetry, tire temps, predicted degradation curves, gap simulations…

“These are the nerds,” I explain. “Say hello to Evie, nerds.”

They only briefly look our way to wave at her. She waves back, looking at all the many screens and what’s on them.

“They’re the ones feeding my race engineer information during laps,” I continue. “He then tells me what to do, I ignore him, and I win anyway. Then we have beers afterward and pretend he was useful.”

Larry, the chief nerd, shakes his head and mumbles into his actual beard, “Cheeky bastard…”

“Nah, they do a good job. And Elliot gives pretty decent advice.”

“Isn’t PR looking for you?” Larry asks.

“Fucking Christ, yes, I know. Here,” I say, grabbing a spare headset. “Put this on,” I tell Evie. She does, listening to the constant talking. Even now, before the race has started, it’s nonstop noise.

“Is it that intense during a race?” she wonders, removing it and hooking it back in its spot.

“Fuck no. Can you imagine handling that and all the wheel buttons? Only one person talks to me. And he knows to keep it sparse.”

“Thank God… For a second, I really thought you were some kind of mad genius, and I never knew.”

“No, I’m just a kid from Colorado who somehow stumbled his way here. Alright, I’ll take you to the Altron motorhome in the paddock. Say bye to Evie, nerds.”

Again, they turn to wave, and we make our way back to the other side of the pit lane.

“I don’t know how you do it. Ten minutes here and I already need a nap to recuperate.”

“Hm, I’m sure I can find us a spot somewhere for a quick power nap.”