Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caleb
Everything feels like a high right now. Between Johannes racking up another top of the podium finish in Italy and a second place in Singapore, the dates we’ve managed to fit in and of course, the sex, everything is stupidly good.
Johannes is slowly gaining back the lost points, and with Harper finishing third in Singapore, it’s a good bump for us.
The first two practices in Brazil yesterday were nothing but perfection for us. Jo’s found his groove with the car and he’s performing over and above even our highest expectations. He’s a true winner.
Then comes the third practice on Saturday morning and it all falls apart in front of my eyes.
It’s a ridiculously hot day and other teams’ tyres aren’t performing like ours. Which is how six cars end up being taken out in one slip-up from a Team Distraus driver. Johannes goes straight into the wall on one of the turns and it has me out of my seat at the pit wall desperate to run to him.
When he climbs out of the car, I probably should be looking at the record of damage as they lift his car off the track but I’m too focused on him telling me he’s okay. That’s all that matters.
‘I’m so sorry to do this in FP3. Is there going to be enough time for them to fix the car?’ He’s breathless as he runs over to where I’ve been talking with a couple of the other engineers.
Both his and Nils’s cars are an absolute mess.
We’re lucky to have four hours between now and qualifying and the best team of mechanics in the world.
I’m not quite sure why he’s apologising, though.
It’s not his fault that the newbie doing a test drive for Distraus wiped out a quarter of the grid towards the end of the session.
‘Not your fault, Jo. Half the teams are panicking right now; we’re just amongst the fun.’
He coughs as he goes to reply, which turns quickly into a wheeze, leaving him doubled over. ‘Are you okaay?’ I ask as he regains his balance, arms still wrapped around his chest.
‘Absolutely fine. I’m going to go nap before the debrief and then pray that catering has that brown-rice salad thing I like.’ He’s clutching at his chest, moving slowly as he tries to step around me to head to his room.
‘Woah, woah, woah, absolutely not. Medical needs to see you. Nils is already being checked over and then it’s your turn. You hit both a car and a wall, mister.’ Plus, there is pain etched in every tightly formed line on his face.
‘I’ll nap first and then get checked. Don’t worry about me. I’m just a bit tired. Had a late night.’ He waggles his eyebrows, before starting to cough again.
‘Nope, medical then nap. Race engineer’s orders.’
‘But—’
‘No buts.’
‘But you have such a nice butt.’ He grins like this is all a joke, but his health isn’t a joke. Not in one of the most dangerous sports in the world.
‘Jo.’ The bossy tone he only gets to hear when he’s being a dick on the track comes out and it stops him in his tracks. ‘I’ll walk you there myself, if I have to.’
He finally stops protesting and we head to the medical room where Nils is just leaving. ‘All good. Just some bruising from some asshole hitting me.’
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch the footage of Harper’s car flying into Johannes’s car sending it spinning into Nils’s car before both of them go straight into the wall.
It was bad enough the first time. I’ve seen worse accidents in my career; I’ve seen cars catch fire, I’ve seen cars with their whole front missing.
But this, this was the most stressful, to the point my smartwatch was like do we need to call an ambulance your heart rate is so high?
‘You’re welcome, dickhead. Not my fault. I was literally just the meat in a car sandwich.’ Johannes ruffles Nils’s hair, but I can tell he’s just trying to delay getting checked over.
‘I think I know someone who’d like you as the meat in a sandwich.’ Nils drops me a not-so-subtle wink and I shake my head at this pair – stubborn and sarcastic, the both of them.
‘As nice as this has been, Nils, he needs to see the doctor, so move along.’ I shoo him with my hands, but he doesn’t budge.
‘Shit, are you okay?’ Nils turns to Johannes. ‘I think you took the brunt of everyone’s force, to be honest.’
He’s not kidding. I feel like I felt it, too, and I was only in Johannes’s ear.
‘Yeah, he’s just being Mr Overly Cautious. Practically marched me over here.’
I can’t see Johannes, but I’m sure he’s rolling his eyes.
‘Like you weren’t doubled over coughing just a few minutes ago.’ I shake my head. ‘Now get in there.’ If we weren’t at work, I’d have probably smacked his ass, but there are too many people around and the workplace is a professional environment, whether people know about us or not.
‘Shit, man, I’ll leave you to it. See you in the debrief in an hour.’ Nils takes off in the direction of the small room he has in the garage, probably for a nap like Johannes was planning.
‘I’m waiting outside the door, by the way. I know you. You’re too stubborn for your own good and you’ll just ignore my orders otherwise.’
Johannes salutes me and slips into the doctor’s office.
Twenty minutes later, and I’m still standing here, which considering qualifying is just over two hours away, is very unproductive, but I said I’d be waiting, and I just want to be sure he’s all good. But then another five minutes pass with no movement.
‘What’s going on?’ Nathan asks as he rounds the corner to the medical office.
‘Johannes is in there with the doctor. He was wheezing and holding his chest after the crash in FP3.’
‘Okay, well we need to speed this up a little, because we need to go through the data from FP3 and make a decision on tyres, and he needs to get his head in the game. A win today and we’ll be within touching distance of Harper.’
‘And he will, once he’s been checked over by the doctor.’ I know we all have different priorities, but I refuse to let Johannes go back out there without being assessed.
‘Could you try to hurry it up? We’ll see you in the meeting room.’
I don’t really want to barge into Johannes’s appointment, but there’s a lot riding on the Saturday of a race weekend. So I knock a couple times and wait a handful of seconds, just in case, and let myself in.
‘So sorry to disturb you,’ I say before the screen the doctor’s showing Johannes catches my eye. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, stepping further into the room and letting the door close behind.
‘Are you okay with him being in here?’ the doctor asks and Johannes nods from where he’s still laid out on the bed. ‘I was just explaining to Mr Müller that he has two fractured ribs, and he’s lucky they haven’t punctured his lung.’
‘Oh, Jesus, Johannes.’ I get a closer look at the screen and can see where the breaks are. Fuck, that must be so painful.
‘So, what do I need? Some strong pain meds? Do you still wrap broken ribs? I just need something to get through today and tomorrow, and then I have almost three weeks until we go to Qatar.’
He can’t actually be thinking about getting in the car right now? There’s no way, surely? I look to the doctor, hoping for some guidance. While he works for the team, if he advises Johannes to drive and Johannes ends up puncturing a lung or something mid-drive, I’m sure he’d lose his license.
‘I would strongly advise against you getting back in the car today. Any kind of impact could cause serious further damage to your ribs – or even your internal organs, if you aren’t careful.
I’d recommend icing your ribs, rest, mixed in with periods of light exercise for a few weeks, then we’ll reassess to make sure you’re healing okay. ’
I almost breathe out in relief. It’s not that I don’t want him to race. I don’t want him to end up doing more serious damage.
‘So, what? I can’t race today? In what world is that going to happen?’ Johannes scowls. I could have predicted this reaction a mile off. He’s not the only stubborn driver on the grid. They could have limbs hanging off and they’d still be insistent about getting in their cars and going out there.
‘I can’t ban you from driving, but I have to make you aware of the consequences of such a choice. If you have another crash or even a bump, you could end up out for longer.’
Johannes looks up at me from where he’s struggling to get comfortable in a sitting position. He’s waiting for me to air my opinion. My professional opinion would be that he shouldn’t race, but I don’t know how to be impartial here.
‘I’m not a doctor, so I’m going to have to agree with his thoughts on this, Jo. He is the professional after all.’
‘Nathan will never go for it. He’d let me race with a broken foot if he thought I could still get points,’ Johannes huffs. He tries to sit up way too quickly, which results in him wincing loudly.
‘How are you planning on folding yourself into the cockpit in that kind of pain?’ I’m struggling to watch him right now, never mind sit there for seventy-one laps letting him become more and more uncomfortable.
‘Painkillers would sort it, I’m sure.’ The doctor just shakes his head, and I see Johannes has had enough.
He tries to hop up off the bed, but only ends up almost doubling over in pain, his breath coming out in wheezes as he clutches his abdomen.
‘Yeah, you’re definitely in a fit state to race,’ I comment as we leave the room.
‘Fuck, this is so fucking dumb! Stupid fucking rookie! Who let him do this? It shouldn’t be allowed so close to the end of the championship. Can you get the guys to look at the chair? A small crash shouldn’t have broken my ribs.’
‘I’m not sure a double-impact crash could be classed as small, but I will obviously get the guys to look at the seat design if you think it had a bearing on the pain you’ve ended up in.
‘Nathan’s going to throw a fit. Having to put in a reserve driver with no practice is going to tank us today.’ He’s not wrong about Nathan, and I don’t want to be the one to have to tell him this.
‘Have some faith in Anton.’ I try to sound confident, but the test practices he’s done this year have not been great, and to be honest, I’m surprised there hasn’t been a bit of a swap around with where he is in the rankings to come up to the main team.
Five seconds later, Nathan’s barrelling towards us, blustering about us being late for the meeting. Best to just get this over with.
‘Sorry we’re late, but unfortunately Johannes won’t be driving today. The doctor has recommended he doesn’t drive because he has two fractured ribs that almost punctured his lungs.’
‘How bad’s the pain?’ Nathan asks, turning away from me and practically glaring at Johannes.
We’re all silent for a moment or two and I wait to see if Johannes will downplay it and convince Nathan to go in there and fight the doctor for some strong painkillers, but his shoulders slump and he finally stops being stubborn.
‘About a nine when I move. The doctor’s right, I don’t know how I’d drive right now. ’
‘Fucking brilliant. That’s just fucking great. And three hours before qualifying. This is a joke.’ Nathan storms off, but out of the corner of my eye I catch the documentary camera crew capturing every moment of this, so he’s only fucked himself over here.
The crew chase after him to catch all the reactions – and the way he slams the meeting room door shut, cutting off their access to him.
‘I’m going back to the hotel,’ Johannes mutters to me. ‘I don’t think I can stick around to watch this, and I think I might be sick.’
‘I’ll get the doctor to draw up a prescription to ease your pain and then I’ll find someone to drive you back to the hotel to get you settled.’
Then I really have to get to that meeting, because Lord knows I’m going to need all the car stats today to figure out how to guide Anton to any kind of success during qualifying today and the race tomorrow.
‘This is the fucking worst day ever.’ Johannes stomps off to who knows where, because he can’t leave without his meds and a bit of assistance to get him back to the hotel, and he could probably do with being snuck out the back door before the media starts running wild with stories of why he’s leaving.
The PR team haven’t even had a second to write up a press release yet.
Thankfully, the doctor releases the medication straight to me, which I hand to two of the PR team who’re going to get Johannes covertly back to the hotel and then write up the confirmation about him not driving this weekend for the press and our social media accounts.
Everywhere is a shit show, the engineers trying not only to sort the damage to both RBF cars, but also to refit the seat in Johannes’s car – because Anton is four inches shorter than Johannes and we need it to suit him as well as possible to stand any chance of points this weekend.
When, three hours later, I finally settle at the pit wall for qualifying, I’m more than ready for this circus to be over.
Especially when I have to give Anton an earful for blocking someone on a flying lap in Q1 – and even more so when he doesn’t even make it into Q2.
I still have to stick around for way too many hours to do my job, when all I really want to do is sneak away and make sure that Johannes isn’t too mad at me for pushing him into not racing today.