Chapter 16 #2
‘Zaid,’ she interrupts, eyes alight with humor. ‘This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.’
I level her with a mock-serious stare. ‘But it is while pregnant and you really shouldn’t be on a horse in your condition.’
She laughs at my terrible joke and it even makes me crack a smile. ‘I’ll be okay,’ she promises.
I’m prepared to protest again, but someone calls my name before I can, and I glance over my shoulder to see Dev coming our way. There’s a woman holding his hand, and it takes me a moment to recognize her dressed in something other than D’Ambrosi red for once.
‘You’re not working today?’ I ask Dev’s girlfriend when they reach us, bending to give her a quick hug.
Willow beams up at me when I pull back, tucking a curl behind her ear. ‘Reid was kind enough to give me the weekend off. Thought it might be nice to watch from a different garage.’
I can only imagine Willow’s life is nonstop F1 drama since she’s dating one driver and working as the social media manager for another, but she always seems delighted to be in the paddock.
I met her last season in the aftermath of the Singapore crash, just hours after the higher-ups at Mascort made the decision to bring Dev in from Argonaut to replace me for the remaining races.
Maybe it was the morphine drip talking, but I demanded that Dev come see me so I could instill in him how serious of an undertaking this was.
He showed up with his girlfriend in tow for moral support and proceeded to reassure me he was ready.
I believed him – partially because of how Willow looked at him with the kind of pride that only comes with sheer faith.
That faith wasn’t misplaced, thankfully, considering he’s currently sitting third in the points behind me and Axel.
I make introductions and stand back as Dev fawns over Ava, while Willow watches on with a knowing smile.
We let Dev put on his typical comedy show before Willow steps in and asks Ava if she wants to grab some food.
I made sure she ate before we left for the paddock, but Ava still enthusiastically agrees, either because she’s hungry again or because she wants an excuse to get away from Dev’s stand-up routine.
I try not to stare as they walk off toward the buffet that’s been set up on the back wall, but Dev’s elbow finds my ribs, telling me I’m not doing a great job at it.
‘She’ll be fine,’ he reassures me, as if he can read my mind and all the worries currently racing through it. ‘Willow will make sure she’s taken care of.’
I cut my eyes to him, something dawning on me. ‘You asked Willow to keep Ava company today, didn’t you?’
Dev rocks back on his heels as he looks anywhere but at me. ‘I will neither confirm nor deny this.’
A little of the tension in my chest loosens. ‘Thank you, Dev. And thank Willow for me too. I’m sure Ava appreciates the company.’
And I appreciate knowing she won’t be alone today, that someone will be looking out for her, especially someone who’s universally loved by Mascort despite working for a different team. Hard to pull that off, but Willow’s done it with ease, and it makes me hopeful that the team will welcome Ava too.
‘Come on,’ Dev says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s almost time for you to teach your Monaco qualifying master class.’
I scoff as he turns me away from the two women laughing together on the other side of the room. ‘Are you trying to jinx me?’
‘Maybe,’ Dev says, teasing as always, but I don’t think he’s joking. ‘Because if I don’t, there’s no chance for the rest of us. You’re that good, Yousef.’
I am. I know that. And this is the last season I’ll ever have to prove it to anyone else.
——
Qualifying in Monaco is an exercise in bravery.
The margin for error is literal centimeters.
Flick the wheel a little too far, brake a little too late, pick up a little too much speed and you’re in the wall before you realize what’s happened.
Like any racing driver, I’ve had my fair share of close calls and all-out disasters here, but today I’m determined to ride the line of bravery and delusional confidence.
I’ve won here three times and I hold the track lap record – set a few years back and still not broken – so I’m more than familiar with the two miles and nineteen turns.
I was at the top of the timings in the first and third free practice sessions, Dev eking me out in the second, which bodes well for the car’s performance today.
Still, it’ll be hard in Q1 to find a clean lap with all the other cars out with me, and it’s where I’ve had my race all but ruined before.
You can kiss the podium goodbye if you qualify outside the top five, and even if you make it, you’ll need a strategist with a direct line to the racing gods to pull off a clean win.
My race engineer updates me on driver positions as I pull out of the garage and join the traffic on-track.
Every year our cars get bigger but the Monaco circuit stays nearly the same, forcing us to squeeze through narrow gaps and risk touching the barriers in far too many places.
I have to slow and pull to the side to let through cars that are already on push laps, checking my mirrors and mentally crossing my fingers that I won’t get caught up in the mayhem if anyone spins or crashes or is just having an extraordinarily bad day.
When there’s finally a gap in traffic for me to put in a lap, I don’t waste a second.
As long as I’m not one of the five slowest cars in this session, I’ll make it through to Q2, but I don’t want the sick adrenaline rush that comes from barely squeaking by.
I want to start my supposed master class early.
And maybe I want to show off a little for Ava, to give her something to cheer for.
It all starts with the right-hander of Sainte-Dévote.
Climb the hill to Casino Square, make my way through Mirabeau Haute, then around the iconic hairpin.
It’s the tunnel next, facing a blind moment when I have to trust that the slow cars ahead won’t accidentally impede me, followed by the shock of sunlight as I exit again.
Heavy braking and the Nouvelle Chicane, more slow cars ahead, and then it’s clear again at La Rascasse. One more push and I’m across the line.
I’m climbing up the hill for my cooldown lap when my engineer comes back on the radio.
‘That’s P1 for now,’ he reports. ‘Have a look at your delta when you can.’
The track’s still rubbering in and evolving, so I’m sure I won’t stay in the top spot for long as grip improves, but it’s more than enough to get me through to Q2.
Still, I do one more run for data gathering before pulling into the pit.
As the mechanics push me back into the garage, I get the report that Axel and Dev are through as expected, but Raphael is out and will start tomorrow in P18.
It will set Specter Energy back in the Constructors’ Championship if he can’t make his way up into the top ten to score points tomorrow, but I certainly wouldn’t mind it.
The mechanics lower dual screens in front of me and I flip open my visor for a better view.
On one screen is data from my lap for me to analyze and compare to Dev’s.
The other is a live feed of the session, the same one being beamed out to viewers around the world.
I keep my focus on the data – until the feed switches to the in-car camera facing me and my helmet appears on the screen, only my narrowed eyes visible.
I spare a glance at the camera to show I’m aware of what’s happening, but I’m quickly back to the data, planning what I need to do when I’m back on-track.
All those ideas are put on hold when the live feed shifts to a different camera, because it’s Ava on the screen now.
She’s up in the Paddock Club with Willow, once again laughing, her head thrown back with her hand resting on her bump.
It takes a moment before a banner appears at the bottom of the screen to identify her, and I stop breathing when it does.
AVA FARAHANI, it reads. ZAID YOUSEF’S PARTNER.
Partner. It’s the word the broadcasters use to describe all the girlfriends and public situationships, never wanting to accidentally mislabel a relationship. And yet they’ve done so here, although I can’t say I mind it.
Ava and I have been skirting that topic, both publicly and privately, just like we have been with the undercurrent of attraction between us. If anything, it’s gotten stronger, pulling and holding me under like a riptide. I’m not even sure I want to come up for air.
So if they want to declare that she’s my partner to stir up those rumors and give them a little more validity, then I’m not going to complain. Ava might have a different opinion of it all, but I’m more than happy to let the world believe the label, because I like it more than I should.
The feed changes after a few more seconds, and I’m back to staring at myself.
My eyes are still narrowed, but they’re heavy-lidded and crinkled at the corners, the way I’ve seen them go in the photos where I’m smiling.
Even though the rest of my face is hidden, there’s no denying what’s going on underneath my helmet.
A mechanic lifts away the screens a moment later, but I didn’t need to see myself to know what Ava does to me. It’s already igniting in my chest, spurring me on.
I have a championship to win, and the greatest reasons to do it.