Page 49 of Downforce

Travis and I both came up through the academy before signing with other teams in Formula 2. Back then Amato didn’t have a F2 team. The story is different now.

Travis bristles in his chair. Though he doesn’t say anything, I can hear what he’s thinking.

That won’t fucking happen.

Drake might be pissed but he’s not a dummy. Travis is the defending champion, and out of the two of us has put the most points on the board this season so far.

His words are mainly directed at me, even as Drake looks between the two of us. I hear what he’s not saying.

“We’ve got all types of bullshit rumors being spread now,” Drake continues.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them are true,” Travis says.

I pivot, looking at him for further explanation. I’m unsurprised to find him glaring at me.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, because it’s obvious he wants me to.

“It means from my perspective what you did in Suzuka was intentional. Taking me out of the race. It also means that I’ve had one teammate who tried to set me up for failure and I’ll be damned if I go the next eight months with you doing the same.”

“Don’t you compare me to that bastard,” I seethe, not liking the comparison he’s drawn between me and his former teammate, Skyland Grant. The former F1 driver who was discovered to have been delivering proprietary information to other teams in order to make Travis lose races.

He’s in prison now after the stunt he pulled that landed Travis’ wife in danger.

I’ll be damned if I’ll allow him to compare me to that disgraced driver.

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“That’s enough!” Drake barks out.

We both turn to face him again.

“Your arguing is giving me a headache. It’s only the end of March and I’m sick of you two already. Listen up,” he says, pointing at us as he stands.

“You two will get along. You don’t have to like each other, but you both know there are too many people who’ve worked damn hard in this office to have our chances fall apart just because both of your egos are the size of the damn racetrack.

“This will be the last time I have to drag either one of you into my office because your emotions got the better of you. Am I clear?”

When we both nod, he dismisses Travis but tells me to stay behind.

I huff out a harsh breath. “You were the one who thought my working so closely would Townsend would be good for me,” I snark, tossing his words from weeks ago back at him. As if to say ‘see where you fucked up?’

I keep my gaze pinned on the shelf behind Drake as he retakes his seat in the leather chair.

My eyes remain on the gold trophy cup. The plaque reads Severino Ferreira “2004 Driver’s Champion.” Next to the trophy is a photo of my father, on the podium, laughing as he’s sprayed with champagne.

My throat and chest tighten.

“You know I’m going to have to fine you for that stunt in Suzuka.”

Drake’s words enter my mind, and I nod but don’t say anything as I stare at the shelf.

“We’ll keep this all internal. No release of the details of the fine. Our spokesperson has already drafted a release to the press letting them know we’ve handled it internally and that both of our drivers have reflected on their actions over the weekend and are working to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all settled.”

Drake narrows his lenses in my direction. “Is that all you have to say?”

No.