Japanese Grand Prix #3
Hugo exhales, his eyeline flitting away. “I told him if you’re in the lead, Thomas will defend for you. If he defends, the field bunches up. When the field bunches, McLean does better because we lose pace in the straights.”
And the only place to pass is in the straights. It has all the hallmarks of a Hugo strategy.
Julien nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, whatever.” The damage is already done. “I’ll tell the reporters about Juliet and Humongo, so you don’t look like such a woman-hating piece of shit.”
Hugo visibly deflates with an exhale. “Fuck, thank you.”
“I won’t hold up the pack for you, though,” Julien warns. “And Thomas definitely won’t roll over and let me win. He loves me, sure, but not as much as racing.”
“Well, obviously.” Hugo scoffs and he finally sounds back to normal. “I mean, that was our problem too. I just needed something to tell Amir.”
Our problem. “Right.”
“Anyway, you might want to talk to Ferraro’s PR team. Julien might be some quiet and unassuming reserve driver, but Romeo is very open and honest about everything.”
“Not everything.”
“He gave a guy a blowjob in Australia.” Hugo’s eyebrows raise, challenging him. “You should probably mention that to someone. People screen-record everything nowadays.”
“It was a handjob, don’t be dramatic.” Fuck. That's gonna be an awkward conversation. “Thanks.”
Hugo hums in reply. “So you and Rafael seem rather close, huh?”
“Good-bye, Humongo.”
“Congratulations, Juliet.”
Only one reporter bothers to ask Julien about Juliet. The rest fall over themselves to get the scoop about the stewards’ decision and congratulate him on keeping his pole position.
Beneath the praise, there’s a lingering undertone of “You’re only first because the car is fast.”
Nothing is ever good enough for reporters with bias.
The Ferraro PR team tells Julien it’s better to control the narrative and announce himself to his followers before it devolves into a witch hunt. It makes sense in theory, but it still takes hours before Julien can hype himself up enough to do anything.
“Anybody free for a call?” he texts their chat. There are only a few minutes before the stream starts—hopefully he didn’t catch them too late.
Mick
Romeo Dubwah! Good job in quali today
I can chat
John
Don’t quit plz
Kevin
Oh fuck
Ur not quitting right?
Yeah, that’s good enough.
Julien starts a video call and flips the camera away from his face. Even though it’s the whole point, anxiety makes him want to postpone the inevitable for as long as possible.
“Video?”
“Man, even when it’s a video call, he flips it around.” Mick laughs, but it sounds frustrated. “Why are you still hiding from us? We’ve been friends for years.”
Because once they cross this boundary, they can’t come back. Once they know, Julien can’t force his team to forget who he is. After tonight, everything will be different.
It’s normal to be hesitant.
“It’s fine if you’re ugly—we won’t judge.”
“I’ll judge.”
“Shut up, Kevin.”
Nothing left to do but rip the bandage off. Julien flips the camera, and his own face joins his friends on the screen. After a split second of lag, there’s an inhuman screech.
“You’re actually—!”
“You’re Julien fucking Dubois?!”
Julien steadies his phone, but it doesn’t help the image quality when it’s his friends who are shaking their cameras. “That’s not actually my middle name.”
“You’ve been a Formation 1 driver this whole time?!”
“You were the one who said I wasn’t a real driver, remember?” Julien remembers. “But, I mean, yeah? I’m a lot closer to Formation 1 than you assholes will ever be.”
“Holy fuck.”
“I can’t believe Julien Dubois heard us talking shit about him.”
“Y’know, I’ve always been a fan.”
Julien laughs at the absurdity of it all. “You guys suck.”
“So was that really Rafael, then?”
Julien nods, and this time they can actually see him. “We shared the flight to China. He was snooping and I didn’t mute in time.”
“Rafael Souza knows I exist?”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Hang on, you’re like, racing tomorrow. You’re on pole and everything.”
“I know!” Julien exhales with disbelief. “Thanks for running Japan with me so many times. It was probably frustrating out of context, but—”
“Wait, did it actually help you in real life?!”
“Pole position in Japan…”
“I can’t believe our Romeo is going to win a Formation 1 race.”
“Don’t jinx him! Bottle the start, Romeo.”
This is going so much better than expected. Even with the news, they’re acting exactly the same as they always have. Nobody even mentions Thomas—it’s just Romeo’s friends discussing Julien’s accomplishments.
It’s everything he could’ve hoped for.
“So… Do you guys forgive me? For never telling you who I was?”
“Kevin’s gonna be pissed he’s not the popular one anymore.”
“Hey! Don’t say that!”
“Bring Rafael back on the stream and we’ll call it even.”
Race days are packed with strategy meetings and press obligations and speaking engagements and national anthems and drivers parades, so Julien doesn’t catch a moment alone with Rafael except in passing.
“Any last words?” Julien asks, with a grin.
“It’s a long road to turn 1, so defend it with everything you’ve got.”
Julien was expecting something a little sexier, but actual advice works too. “Right.”
They can save the sexy talk for after the podium.
Rafael looks extra serious when he says, “Even on a track like this, you need to fight to maintain your position.”
Okay, it’s starting to sound condescending now. “Yeah, I know. Defend, defend, defend.” This isn’t Julien’s first race. “My brother won’t pull his punches. I get it.”
“I won’t be out there when you set up, so I need you to internalize it now. No matter what Thomas says beforehand, you need to fight him.”
Huh?
“What do you mean ‘what Thomas says beforehand’?” Sure, they’re brothers, but Julien and Thomas never talk during set-up. They stick with their own garages. “He has his own race to worry about. I doubt he’ll be chatty.”
“He will,” Rafael says with conviction. “He always sizes up the drivers who start ahead of him. Remember, Thomas will never settle for second place. Don’t let him talk to you and focus on maintaining the lead.”
“What could he possibly say?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a mind reader. He just says things. One time we were discussing Ferraro’s tire strategy and it messed with my head so much I demanded an early pit stop.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t look at me like that—he’s very convincing. Just ignore him, okay? That’s my advice. The strategy is good and your instincts are, too.”
Julien carries Rafael’s warning through the recon lap, all the way until he’s parked at the front of the field for set-up.
While the mechanics cover both cars, Thomas huddles with his race engineer near his front wing. See? He has his own race to worry about.
Rafael thinks he knows Thomas so well because they’ve been teammates for a few years? Try sharing DNA.
“Let’s go over the letters for each plan again,” Davide says, his clipboard in hand.
Julien cracks a smile. “You think I forgot a conversation we had not twenty minutes ago?”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” Davide nods his head forward expectedly. “Plan A?”
“If the mediums are faring well, we’ll stop between ten and sixteen, switch to hards, and ride them out to the end.”
“Plan B?”
“Two stop—medium, soft, soft.”
“Oh good, you are reviewing.” Thomas butts into their conversation with a hand around Julien’s shoulder, shaking him. “This is very important to remember. You need to be prepared for any strategy.”
Julien exhales. It sounds a lot like a groan. “I know. I’ve done this before.”
“Hey, Thomas!” Davide’s voice rises an octave as he stares between the two brothers. “We’ve got it from here, but thank you.”
“You are welcome.” But Thomas doesn’t leave—he drags Julien closer. “You do not mind if I steal my little brother? I will take just one moment.”
Davide grimaces, but Julien waves him off. “It’s fine.”
If he’s expecting mind games, he won’t fall for mind games. Let Thomas try.
Once they’re alone between the two cars, Thomas asks, “How are you feeling? Are you very excited?”
Between Rafael and Davide, Julien’s feeling on edge. “I’m cool. You?”
“It is not my very first pole position. I am so proud of you. I will do my best to help.”
“Help?”
Thomas will never settle for second place.
Does he really think Julien is so gullible? It’s pathetic, really.
“The Red Boars, they fight with aggression. It is an easy track to maintain position, but the first lap is hard. If I defend, we can carry it home and earn a Ferraro one-two. Un-deux Dubois.”
It’s a ploy. A ploy visible from space. Julien can see it even without Rafael’s warning or Davide’s concerned stare.
“Yeah, okay.” There’s nothing wrong with pretending to accept the offer if Julien is still going to race just as hard. “Sounds great. Thanks, Thomas.”
“Anything for you, mon chou.” Thomas is so full of shit. “Make sure you angle your wheels to the center when you park. Fritz will drive up the middle, and we need to cut him off.”
But Julien was already going to angle his wheels towards the center. To cut Thomas off. Why would he ask Julien to put up a bigger defense against himself?
“I was already planning to.”
“Good job!” Why is everyone so condescending today?! “And I will keep my wheels straight, to defend against Sam from the outside.”
Something is definitely wrong, but Julien can’t put his finger on it. Why would Thomas worry about Sam in fourth when Fritz is the bigger threat?
Maybe he’s lying. Maybe Thomas expects his own reaction time and straight-line speed to be faster than Julien’s—that he’ll be able to plow forward and make the first turn before Julien can cut him off.
So what then? Should Julien angle his car or keep it straight? If he defends too late, it’ll be useless, but if he attacks, he could be overtaken at the first turn if he isn’t careful.
Fuck.
What should he do?