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“Of course, what’s up?” I pause to let her walk in.
“I wanted to talk to you about something, but I’m not sure how to say it,” she starts.
“Did any of the crew do anything to you? I’ll have their heads if they do. Might kick their ass too,” I reply.
She laughs. “No, no, no, just wanted to talk about Bud.”
“What about him?”
“There’s just something weird about him. I get this feeling that he hates me, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be safe driving under him. Elle thinks I’m being dramatic, but I’m not sure what to do.”
I watch as she fiddles with her hands in her lap. This is the first view of her insecurities that she’s let any of us see. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really trust him at the moment either. I’ve worked with him for the last four years, the last two as the car engineer. I know he has a distaste for women in racing, and I’ve heard some of the comments he’s made towards you. But I don’t think he will intentionally put you in harm’s way when you’re out on the track.”
“So do you think I’m being overly dramatic?”
“No, I think you’re being cautious. I think you’re taking a prudent step into ensuring your own safety,” I admit.
“I definitely don’t want to be seen as a complainer. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, and I don’t want to let this get in the way.”
“I understand that. It’s my job to ensure that you have the safest car possible. If you think anything is out of the ordinary or you’re just unsure of something, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me. I’ve got your back,” I assure her.
“That means a lot to me, Saint. I really appreciate it. Can you just make sure that you don’t say anything to him? I really don’t need him having another reason to hate me more.”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” I reply and wink at her.
She hands me a piece of paper. “Here are the final specs. I believe they’re still within the new requirements. Once I used the weight jackers on the steering wheel, it was easier to control the car, and I was able to have more drive force into the corners.”
I glance over the specs quickly. Looking up at her, I say, “They look rather good; I think they’ll be fine. I’m going to enter them onto the spec sheet so that Neil and the crew have them to finish building the car.”
“Sounds great. I am heading home and off to do some media for next week, so I’ll probably be in later this week to run another simulation, but after that I probably won’t see you until we hit Texas.”
“I’ll see you later in the week then,” I reply as I watch her walk out of my office. I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. If she’s not safe, or feeling safe, with Bud as her crew chief, I’m not sure what we’re going to do.
