Chapter 9 Sebastian
Sebastian
The thing about Monaco was that the streets were too narrow to cart the pre-fabricated hospitality units into the little principality.
So that meant that I only had to amble down the stairs to the hotel conference room where Magnus would be sat waiting for me in a hastily assembled hospitality suite for sponsors.
I was still angry, but that anger had been tamped down from all-encompassing spikes of fury to a low simmer.
Theo was responsible for raising my mood, and we’d split at the top of the street between our two hotels with smiles on each of our faces.
I’d watched as he sauntered away with the street lighting reflecting off his pale skin, and I had been desperate to run after him, to kiss him like I wanted.
But I just had to accept that he may not want that, and content myself with memories of stolen glimpses at his naked body.
I pushed open the frosted-glass doors and found Magnus sitting at a long mahogany table. There was still a fridge in the corner half-full of champagne bottles.
I sat down opposite Magnus. He looked up at me, and I kept eye contact, hardly blinking, until he had the grace to look away from me.
“Why?” I asked him. I kept my voice as carefully neutral as possible. I thought of Theo, of the smile he could so easily bring to my face. I thought of my abuela, who was probably going mad with worry that I hadn’t texted her back yet. And I stayed calm for them.
“Because you’ve been under-performing for a year, Sebastian. You thought one good race would derail our contract negotiations with other drivers?”
I smirked. “Magnus, I do not care about losing my contract. It hurt, but I will move on. What hurt even more was finding out at the same time as the rest of the world.”
“I’m sorry about that, Sebastian, I really am. The news should have broken tonight. After we had had a chance to talk. I have no idea who leaked it.”
“Frankie?” I asked. “He knew, didn’t he?”
Magnus couldn’t look me in the eye. “I don’t know, and I’m not throwing accusations around, Sebastian.”
I could feel the anger bubbling away again, a little more fierce, but still under control. “That kid has been underperforming since he started. But he’s safe. Because his daddy owns shares in the racing team. That hardly seems fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Sebastian,” said Magnus, holding out a hand to stop me from talking.
“I wanted you on this team. The whole pit crew loves you, and when you’re good, you’re great.
You just needed to get good a little earlier this year, and maybe I could have saved you. I didn’t want it to come to this.”
“How much is Max getting paid?” I asked. “More? Because his performance has suffered the last few years. He’s old.” I tried my best not to sound bitter or petty. I was just relaying the facts as I saw them.
“He’s legacy. And legacy brings sponsorships way beyond what we’re paying him. One year with Max could keep this team afloat for years.”
“One year?” I asked. “Is that all he has?”
“He’ll be retiring in a Remini suit at the end of the next tour. He’ll have the American leg, and then a full European and American tour next year.”
I pinched at the bridge of my nose to stop the rising tide. “My contract runs to the end of the year, Magnus. You can’t just kick me out midway through the tour.”
Magnus pushed a sheaf of paper over to me. “Read this, and take it to your agent. Contracts can be bought out early, and I think you’ll find the offer from Remini is more than fair.”
“Where is Mr Jenkins?” I asked, standing so that I didn’t have to look down at the paper, to see what they had determined I was worth. “Why has he sent you to do his dirty work?”
Magnus was quiet when he replied. “Because that’s what I do. The horrible, dirty stuff so they don’t have to see the devastation on your face. They don’t want to acknowledge that their cations have human consequences.”
I crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne.
“I delayed my celebration last night because I thought we would be celebrating a breakthrough today,” I said.
I ripped the foil off the top of the bottle and shook the bottle.
One quick tap of the bottle on the table and the cork was flying off, champagne pouring over expensive mahogany.
I grabbed two glasses from a side table and filled them messily before passing them to Magnus. He looked down at the glass in front of him in what looked like fear.
“A toast,” I said, taking a sip, “to one of the most successful partnerships in Moto 1 history.” I held out the glass and Magnus hesitated before clinking his with mine.
“I just wish you had told me. Not just before the news broke, but when you were negotiating with him. Now I’ll be scrambling to take a Rebel Force or Dragon Racing seat from some poor bastard who does not deserve to lose it. ”
“You could take the rest of the season off,” said Magnus. “Enjoy watching the American tour. Take a well-deserved break.”
I actually laughed and then drained my glass in one gulp. “Magnus, I will be racing on that track if I have to take my abuela’s 2002 Renault Clio out racing. Half a season off could be the difference between winning the championship this year, or never winning it.”
Magnus hesitated. “Honestly, Sebastian. You’ve not finished two-thirds of your races this year already. What makes you think you can possibly win the Drivers’ Championship?”
“Honestly?” I grinned. “Spite.”
“Oh my God, are you Sebastian García?” asked the Apple Store sales assistant. I gave an awkward smile, and willed her to keep her voice down. “I love you so much! I thought you were amazing in the race yesterday.”
She turned to her colleague and started jabbering at him in rapid French.
I found myself slumping further in my chair as every person in the little phone store turned to look at me.
Sometimes, no, always, I hated celebrity.
It was my least favourite part of being a driver.
It was nice being rich, but I’d have done the job for minimum wage if it meant I could do it anonymously.
Maybe I should just never have taken the helmet off. Like the Mandalorian of racing.
I’d got Remini’s driver to take me from Monaco to Nice just to pick up a replacement phone. I had felt slightly tipsy at the start of the journey but now my head was pounding.
“OMG, are you, like, Sebastian García? Can I get your autograph?” said a hysterical male voice. I turned, ready to ask whoever it was to quieten down, only to find Theo Tyler snickering behind his hand like he’d said the funniest thing ever.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Spending my millions,” he replied with a smile. Behind him, a store assistant was balancing a huge pile of boxes on the desk, whilst another kept going out back to get more.
“All for you?” I asked.
Theo looked awkward for a second. “I came in to buy myself a new computer for the villa in Andalucia, but I tend to get a bit of a guilt complex when I spend too much on myself.”
“So you spent even more?” I asked, incredulous. “Does that soothe your guilt?”
“I bought enough iMacs to stock the local school’s IT department,” he said. “And then a couple for any community centres in the area.”
For a second, I was stunned. How was it that Theo Tyler continued to impress me so much, and still surprise me after all this time?
I called over to the store assistant behind the desk. “Could you double his order please? I’ll pay.”
I was vaguely aware that the store had gone quiet around us as people turned to look.
The store assistant who had been dealing with my phone coughed and slid my new phone over on top of its box.
“There you go, Mr García, that should be all set up just as you left your last phone. Same number, everything saved.”
“Thank you, add it to my bill,” I said.
Theo and I went to pay at the same time. It was a truly astronomical bill. And then my card decided to decline right in front of the whole store, probably because of the ridiculous amount I was trying to spend in one go.
“His contract’s not been renewed, he’s destitute now.
Lives on the streets of Nice. You can get a ride in his Toyota Corolla if you ask nicely.
” I elbowed Theo in the side, but he carried on regardless as he put his card in to pay for the whole transaction.
“Honestly, you should have seen him yesterday. King of the world, but he’s got nothing now.
Had to sell his dog for a place to sleep. ”
“I don’t have a dog,” I protested weakly.
“Well you don’t now,” said Theo. “Poor Perky is living on a yacht in Monaco marina, with a very strange old lady.”
“You are pushing my last nerve, Teodoro,” I said.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a sandwich,” said Theo to me before turning to the sales assistant. “My assistant will be in touch to distribute the computers, if you could store them all for now.”
I slipped my new phone into my pocket and followed Theo out of the store. There were a couple of paparazzi who had obviously been tipped off that we were there, but we ignored them and I indicated the blacked-out car parked outside.
“Can I offer you a ride back?” I asked Theo.
“In that thing? Please, we’re travelling in style.” He took a key-fob out of his pocket and clicked a button, and a very conspicuous orange Lamborghini chirped and lit up for a second. I knew in an instant that I’d be joining Theo, so I let my driver know to make his way back to Monaco by himself.
We jumped into the car and Theo pulled away with a roar before I’d even finished clipping my seatbelt in.
He headed through the narrower streets of Nice like it was home to him, and I found that soon we were driving the coastal road to Monaco, above azure water, the spring sunlight reflecting off the waves.
Theo pressed a button on the dashboard and the roof reclined. Wind whipped through his hair, and I found my gaze drawn from the beautiful sea to his face. It seemed to be all I needed nowadays was Theo’s smile. He was a truly beautiful man.
“What you looking at?” Theo asked.
“You,” I said, hoping that honesty was the best policy.
Theo blushed and fixed his eyes on the road. “No one around,” he said. “Let’s see what this thing can do!”
Theo pressed his foot to the accelerator and suddenly it felt like we were flying.
My head pressed back to the headrest as he pushed the supercar to its limits, and I found myself laughing along with Theo.
The speed was exhilarating, despite the tears it drew to my eyes and the mess it was probably making of my hair.
“This is amazing!” I shouted above the roar of the wind and engine. I loved driving, but so often it was stressful, and sweaty, and chaotic. This felt like driving in its purest form. The speed was why I’d fallen in love with it.
As we approached Monaco, Theo eased off the gas. “What are your plans for the three week break?” he asked.
“Nothing. I have two weeks off before training starts again, so I will head home. Relax and try to work out what the future holds.”
“Do you live alone?” asked Theo. “I don’t like the thought of you living by yourself, in your head for two weeks.”
“Maybe I need the time alone. My house is quiet, secluded from all this…noise. It allows me to think. I have never thought of it as lonely. I have to be someone for Moto 1. I’m loud, and brash, and fun.
It feels nice to have a place where people don’t care that I am Sebastian García.
” I fell silent, slightly embarrassed that I’d laid my heart out like that to Theo.
“That sounds like heaven,” Theo breathed.
“Yeah?” I asked. “How would you like to visit? Come and see me for a week or so. It’s not so far from your home in Andalucia. It’s just a little more secluded.”
Theo thought for less than a second before speaking. “I’d love to.”
As he pulled up outside my hotel, I couldn’t help but grin. A week with Theo Taylor. Completely alone. It was going to be the best and worst week of my life.