Chapter Three
Victoria
“It was horrible,” I moan to my laptop an hour later.
Unfortunately, Ilya’s total demolition of my hope and ego hasn’t driven me to the point of total insanity; I’m not actually bitching to a piece of technology.
Instead, I’m bitching to my best friend and fellow MIT-grad, Delilah—who’s currently thousands of miles away in New York City.
“I don’t get it,” Delilah says, fiddling with a stack of papers in her hands. There’s a red pen tucked behind her ear, tangled in strands of her blonde hair. Even on camera, the unique, countless shades are eye-catchingly beautiful.
“The only thing you need to get is that my life is a fucking nightmare,” I snap. “I have literally never been so humiliated in my life. That debrief is going to be the star of my night terrors for the next ten years.”
“Didn’t you say Doctor Serov gave you free leave to work exclusively on your forecasting algorithm?”
Well, now that she mentions it… “Yes.”
“And isn’t your position a race engineering support intern?”
The thought makes my mood sour even more. “Yes.”
“So, the hot-shot might’ve yelled at you, but he also gave you privileges that the intern—AKA the team’s bitch—shouldn’t have.”
“That’s not the point!” Even though that is a nice way to frame it. “He made me feel like I was two inches tall with his lecture.”
Delilah picks up a blue pen, underlines something in the papers, then scribbles a note. “You’ve been chewed out before, though. Didn’t Professor Marcs straight up tell you that you weren’t smart enough to be at MIT your sophomore year?”
“Yes, but that was different. Geniuses are as common as breathing at that school, and I’m not a genius.”
“Pfft,” Delilah scoffs. “Tell that to your IQ. Anyway, I still don’t get why you’re so upset. It doesn’t sound like the big boss even yelled at you, just berated you—”
“He’s not the big boss; that would be the team owner/ principal, Soren. Ilya is the trackside engineering director.”
Delilah frowns. “How many directors, heads, and chiefs are there in F1?”
“A lot.”
“So, we’ll call him a big shot instead of the big shot. In any case, he chewed you out. Big deal.” She rolls her eyes.
“In front of three dozen employees. Including one world-famous driver and model, and a walking thirst trap who stares at me like he wants to remove my head from my shoulders.” I groan.
“Asher Lawrence laughed out loud. Everyone else was probably hiding laughs. I was the only woman in that room, Lilah, and I made a fucking fool of myself. I’m surprised I wasn’t fired on the spot. ”
Delilah finally looks up at that. “So what? You’ve got other offers coming out of your ass. Didn’t the best F1 team try to buy your forecasting thingy from you… before you’ve even finished it?”
“Yes,” I say hotly. “Directly after I’d been told that my intern position was given to a nepo baby.
I’ve never come so close to telling a Team Principal to go fuck himself.
” The offer wasn’t only a severe undervaluation of what my program will be worth when I finish it—if I finish it—it was also a major slap in the face.
“So, let’s talk through worst case scenario. You get fired. Your life is over.” Delilah gives me a look that conveys how ridiculous she thinks I’m being. “Except it isn’t. Go get a better-paying job somewhere else. Didn’t NASA give you an offer over the summer?”
“They liked the work I did over my senior year internship with them,” I mumble.
“And I imagine they’d be paying you enough to live in something larger than a matchbox without working heat or A/C.
” Delilah gives me a pointed stare. “Pity parties don’t look good on you.
Buck up or fuck off—if I have to suffer through more of your bullshit, I’m sending you an invoice for wasting my time. ”
Delilah being so blunt and no-bullshit is one of the things I adore most about her. Her brain, which is the brain of an actual genius, is another. But sometimes, her harshness just lands too hard. That’s why our other best friend—Keith—is essential to our trio, but he has a show tonight.
When I let out a much more pitiful whine, Delilah softens by the faintest margin.
“Look, it’s just your first day. You’re contracted for the season, right?
Nobody’s gonna fire you until then. As for Ilya…
maybe he was trying to light a fire under your ass?
” Delilah suggests with a shrug. “If you explained why you were late and why your algorithm—system—whatever the fuck you call it isn’t done yet, he’d probably understand. ”
I give her a dry look. “Right. Just like how you’d go to your managing partner with a boo-boo and ask them to stick a Band-Aid on it?”
She considers that for a moment, then nods. “I see your point. Well, then… just hunker down and work on your algorithm. It really does sound like it’d be a game-changer.”
“For that, I need people to talk to me.”
“Flash them your cleavage. Most men’s lips loosen after that.”
“Delilah.”
“Victoria. I’m giving you valid, tried and true advice. Sounds like it’d work on that driver who hates you most of all.”
I frown. “Are you allergic to logic? He straight up said he wants me gone.”
“He probably thought you were hot.”
“How in the fuck would that lead to him demanding I get fired?”
“Dunno. Men are weird. To be fair, you are super hot.” She pauses to scribble something else on a page. “How long do you estimate your algorithm will take?”
“If everyone’s compliant? A month to gather variables, and another month to train it, max. I might be able to go faster. But nobody’s going to do me any favors, Lilah. I’m going to have to squeeze information from them, which won’t make me any friends.”
“Aren’t you good with super-nerds, though? I’m sure there’s a team of them somewhere. Bring them some of your baked goods, wear a low-cut crop top, and you’ll be golden.”
“How does everything come down to appearance with you? Shouldn’t we leave that to Keith—the supermodel and drag queen?”
“What can I say? I’m trying to play two friends at once. He’s better at dealing with emotions than I am.”
We’re both quiet for a while, lost in thought. After a few minutes, Delilah asks, “How’s your mom?”
“Stable,” I murmur, a deep sadness tugging at my chest. “A resident was overseeing her when she got to the hospital. His supervisor said he misread some test results and got overzealous. She’s fine; she’s already been discharged and is back at home with Norris.
” Norris is her German around-the-clock nurse, who has biceps bigger than my thighs and a scowl that can bring armies to heel.
She’s also an excellent cook, adores my mother, adores me, and tolerates my older brother as well as anyone can.
When I got her call that Mom was in the hospital a few hours before I boarded my flight for this race, I nearly lost my mind.
“Rookies.” Lilah shakes her head. “I’m glad she’s good. Has Hunter gone to see her?”
After I moved across the country to be closer to Gaston’s headquarters, my brother took over my weekly visits with Mom, similarly to how he did while I was in college.
He’s much busier than me—he’s the founder and CEO of a major quantitative hedge fund—but despite his many, many faults, my brother loves his family.
Or, at least, he prioritizes us. I’m not sure if someone with his… tendencies is capable of love.
“Yeah. I’m hoping I can fly out to see her at least once this season, but I don’t know how I’ll make it work. I’ll pretty much be living out of a suitcase until December.”
“You’ll figure out a way,” Delilah says confidently. “I have faith in you.”
“That’s more than I have in myself right now.”
“Get over your pity party, already. This isn’t worth it.” Delilah sighs when I yawn. “It looks like what you need is a good night’s sleep. Go get it, and make the world your bitch in the AM.”
“I can’t. I ran back to the hotel to hide away from the team press conference. I can’t face anyone—”
“I’ll stop you right there. You do not hide from your problems, you got me?
Ever. You’re better than that.” Delilah’s glare is cutting, but her words strike a chord.
“Go get your ass to whatever conference is happening. Hold your chin high, and take everything that comes at you with grace. You’re more capable than all the morons in F1, and you’ll prove it. ”
Sometimes, Delilah’s bluntness is too much. Other times, it’s just enough.
I drop my chin into my hand. “Alright. I love you.”
She makes a face. “Stop being so sentimental.” That’s her way of telling me she loves me too before hanging up.