Chapter 5 #2
There’s no point in arguing or replying. While she says these things matter-of-factly, I often get the sense that she’s trying to goad me into a fight. For what reason? I’ve yet to figure out why she speaks the way she does.
And ever since my signing with Amato went public, she’s gotten worse with these digs about my playing second to Travis. Yes, he is the returning champion, which means expectations are high for him this season.
A great season for the both of us could lead us to a team championship, which is a monumental accomplishment not only for the drivers, but for all of the engineers, team principal, and owners of a team.
As much as Travis and I are teammates, we’re also rivals. That’s how it works in my sport. Same colors, same car design, same team principal, different goals.
Yet, any driver worth their weight wants to be crowned World Driver’s Champion. We dream of it from the time we first sit in a go-kart at five years old.
That’s what happened in my case, anyway.
Not every driver had the privilege of being raised by Severino Ferreira.
Privilege and curse, I think as I stare into my mother’s icy gaze.
“Well.” She claps her hands together, raising her shoulders. “We’ll see what happens once the season starts.”
Her words drop like an anvil on my chest.
Her tone reveals the minute amount of faith she has in my abilities.
“I have a luncheon with some friends since I’m in town. Oh,” she turns to me, stopping at the doorway, “my account is running low and the credit card bill is due tomorrow. Will you …” She trails off.
“What happened to the deposit I sent this week?”
The huff of air she lets out tells her annoyance with my question.
“I needed a new couch, if you must know. I’m your mother. How dare you count my expenses? Your father would never try to put me on such a restrictive budget.”
I snort without thinking.
Restrictive. Yeah, if restrictive is the hefty six-figure amount I deposit into her account twice a year in addition to paying for the luxury flat she lives in.
My mind floats back to the friendly eight-figure amount that Drake Horner and Amato promised me in my contract over the next three years.
While loathe to admit it, that number with the promise of bonuses, if a team championship is achieved during my time at Amato, is a large reason why I finally made the decision to switch teams.
“I’ll take care of the credit card bill,” I tell her, but that doesn’t get her to start moving.
“And the account?”
“I’ll make a transfer.”
That gets her nod of approval. A second later she’s out of the door, leaving me alone with my unpacked boxes and the sparse furniture that’s been delivered.
I stare out of the window at the road that I’m very familiar with despite having never lived in Monaco until now. I’ve raced and trained on these curvy avenues for almost a decade now between my Formula 2 and Formula 1 career.
The familiarity of the street brings a sense of peace I hadn’t expected when I decided to take this place.
That feeling doesn’t last too long as my mother’s words pummel my mind again. “Let Travis be the standout that he is …”
“Severino never had to be jealous of anyone. He was already the best.”
Tightness fills every ounce of my body, a sudden wave of heat overcoming me.
“Your mum left already?”
I spin to find Edwin at the door, holding up bags of food.
“What’d you get?” I grab one of the bags to open it. The greasy smell automatically turns my stomach. “You know I’m on a macro diet. I have a weigh-in soon.”
I shouldn’t have to remind Edwin of the necessities of my career. He, himself, is a former F3 driver who had hopes of making it to the main grid. He’s well aware of the strict requirements I have when it comes to weight by the time my first race comes around.
Greasy burgers and fried potatoes aren’t on the menu.
“Lighten up, mate. The season doesn’t start for a few more weeks. You’ll make weight.” He places the bags down on the table at the side of the room. “Hey, have you spoken to that girl from last week’s party?”
I scrunch up my face while still rummaging through the bag of food, hoping beyond hope that there’s something decent I can eat. Beyond the cheeseburger and extra large potatoes, is a small pack of sliced pickles and tomatoes. This will have to do for the time being.
“What girl?” I ask before biting into a pickle spear.
“Brittney, Stacey.” He snaps. “Albany.”
“Don’t remember her.” I toss the now empty cardboard box back into the bag. “I need some real food.”
“Her friend just texted me. They’re in town tonight and want to meet up.”
“Cancel it,” I toss over my shoulder before padding through the living room toward the kitchen. It’s a useless endeavor since I haven’t done the shopping yet, but that reminds me to use my app to order some groceries.
I can whip up a quick meal after unpacking a few boxes.
“Come on,” Edwin says behind me. “Who knows when they’ll be in town again and they are beauties. Besides, with your season starting soon you need to loosen up.” He drops his hands on my shoulders, squeezing as if emphasizing his point.
“I’m not tense,” I lie.
A visit with my darling mother always causes my shoulders to tighten up. The box still sitting by the door garners my attention again. My father’s euphoric expression meets my stare.
“He was the best.”
As much as I want to ignore it, her words always have an impact on me. Her comparison of me to my father’s legacy causes a hole in my chest to throb.
“It’s not like you’ll last long …”
Annalise’s voice pushes in right behind my mother’s. I can’t stop the scowl that crosses my expression.
It reminds me of what I overheard her say years ago. That I wasn’t good enough. That I was a waste of space on the grid.
She, like many others, assumes the only reason I’ve come as far as I have in my career is because of my last name. The uppity way she tossed those words around assure me that she’s every bit the princess I pegged her for years ago.
Heat that I can only assume is anger courses through me at the same time a vision of those sparkling wide eyes and flaming red hair appear in my mind.
“What time did they want to meet?” I suddenly ask Edwin in order to stop the bullshit thoughts going on inside of my head.
He grins like a Cheshire cat. “I knew you’d come around.” He claps me on the back. “I’ll text her back.”
Might as well enjoy the little free time I have with someone whose name I won’t remember in a few weeks.