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“You don’t look happy,” I said, putting my arm around Carlos’s shoulders.
“I’m not happy. Today will not be a good day. And it already started out bad. Tanya quit.”
“What!” That wasn’t the news I was expecting. Tanya was a damned good mechanic, one of the few women in the pits. Sure, she and I had drifted over the past few months, and now that I thought about it, I realized I’d barely seen her in months. Any time we did pass each other, she was always looking hurt, keeping the conversation short. Thinking about it now, it seemed sort of obvious that there were problems.
“She let us know this morning. Packed up and walked over to Merrick.”
“Merrick?” That threw me. I couldn’t blame her for taking a job with such an elite team—the team my father had once been the star of, in fact. But why hadn’t she told me she was unhappy? Maybe I could have stopped her.
“As you can imagine, this is a blow. Not to mention Pedro.”
I looked down at my feet. The day had finally come. I’d signed Blake’s contract that morning, which meant Pedro would have to be let go. There would be a backlash in Mexico—his birthplace—at the news. Pedro’s season had been rough, but I felt guilty that we were cutting him loose rather than offering support and mentorship. I wondered what my father would have done, especially since the great Marco Perez’s parents had both been born in Mexico. Plus, we were cutting Pedro loose in favor of a rich American who was past his prime. Juan and I were working overtime on the PR aspect of things.
Rumors had already begun as news of Blake’s negotiations had been leaked to the press. Devin hadn’t asked, but I knew he was dying to. Pedro had also never asked about his situation; he had too much pride. I regretted leaving the decision too long. It would mean that Pedro would have trouble finding a seat the following year, and he didn’t deserve that. He’d been loyal to Perez, and here we were, screwing him over.
Carlos looked as unhappy as I felt. “Pedro is on his way. I have a feeling he knows why we are meeting with him.”
“He’s been good to us, Carlos.”
“I know. I hate to see him go. I’ll definitely put in a good word for him with any team looking for a driver. Rafe said he’d do the same.”
But there was more to what Carlos was saying, and I sensed it. “Do you think we’re making a bad decision?”
Carlos pursed his lips and scratched his weathered brow. “I don’t know. Maybe? If it’s attention that Perez needs, then Carlton is the man. If it’s talent … I’m not so sure. Don’t get me wrong, Carlton is talented, but Pedro is young and eager. Plus, I don’t really see Carlton being okay in the number-two spot. He’s used to being the star of the show.”
I understood. Carlos expected to butt heads with Blake, and he wasn’t excited about the prospect. And would Blake really race to make Rafe a winner, or was he more interested in one last hurrah?
Rafe ended his conversation. He’d been speaking with Eva, who was still in Cortese with the children. Following the race, there would be a flurry of activity until Manta. A press conference would have to be called to announce Blake’s addition to the team. Rafe wanted to plan something elaborate, but I insisted on something more low-key. I didn’t want Pedro’s last few races with Perez to be any more difficult than they had to be.
“Carlos and I do all the talking when Pedro gets here,” Rafe said in a fatherly tone. “Pedro knows you’re the emotional one, and he might try to get to you.”
That rubbed me the wrong way. Even if that were true, Pedro deserved to know that the team still cared about him. That at leastIcared about him.
“How can you be so cold?” I said with disgust.
“This is business, Luna. I like Pedro, but he isn’t going to help me win a world championship. This is probably the best thing that has ever happened to him.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that.” My brother was a twat.
There was a knock on the door. Rafe went to answer it, and Pedro walked into the room. I looked at him only briefly, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. I diverted my attention to the window and stared out onto the street while Pedro took a seat. His shoulders were hunched, and he barely said a word. He knew what was coming. We all knew it.
I bit my lip as Rafe asked Pedro if he wanted anything from the minibar.
“No, nothing. Rafe, let me save you the trouble of having to dance around this conversation,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’m out, aren’t I?”
“It’s nothing personal,” Rafe said in a level voice.
I found it remarkable how easily Rafe could shatter people’s hopes and dreams.
“Of course not,” Pedro said.
I sensed sarcasm.
“We have the opportunity to sign Blake Carlton, and we just couldn’t pass that up,” Rafe said in that maddeningly reasonable tone.
Pedro nodded, but I could see that he was pained or insulted. I couldn’t tell which. I couldn’t blame him. “When are you announcing Carlton?”
“A few days before Manta. Look, we don’t want any hard feelings. You’ve been a loyal teammate. We really want to keep you around as a test driver, and we can pay you well. Carlton only wants one year, like a farewell tour before he retires. You could potentially step back into your role.”
