14. TIAGO #2
‘How should I know?’ It comes out higher pitched than I meant. I lower my voice and switch back to Spanish for good measure. ‘She probably got it off the intern—’
‘Why is there a coercion clause?’
‘Huh?’ I lean over her shoulder. ‘That’s not a—’
‘Neither Party shall threaten, blackmail, coerce, or intimidate the other to gain leverage or alter the terms of this Agreement.’ Isa’s eyes meet mine. ‘What did you do?’
Why would she assume it’s not standard practice? ‘Noth—’
‘Your brother threatened to reveal himself as my new boyfriend at an F1 Academy brunch if I didn’t agree to help recover his profile,’ says Jules without looking up.
Like I couldn’t hate her more.
‘You did WHAT?’ Isa flushes a deep shade of maroon. ‘Excuse us.’ She gives me a very specific look, and it’s so like our mom’s that I know deep in my bones I’m about to hear my government name. ‘Santiago Emilio Andrés Cabrera de la Espriella. ?Qué mierda te pasa?’
Once she’s sufficiently used up every curse word and detailed my murder in meticulous detail, the title TIAGO CAbrERA STRATEGY SESSION appears on the screen.
It’s in a classy font on a slick background and, for the first time today, Jules’ professionalism makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had.
Jules swings her gaze to me. ‘What are you good at?’
Guess we’re not starting with icebreakers. I slump down in my seat. ‘Driving.’
‘What else?’
‘I don’t know. Sex?’
Isa expels air like a disgruntled horse.
‘I don’t have time to pretend you’re funny.’ Jules clicks the slide. Harsh. ‘What do you want?’
I point at the words OWN THE MOVE in front of me. ‘Not that.’
She gets to her feet in full presentation mode. Against my better judgement, my sex deprived brain’s into it. She’s giving sexy librarian.
‘This isn’t negotiable.’ Her cruel words bring me back to Earth. ‘This is the core of your new persona. The pieces around it are malleable. This is not.’
‘Woah, woah, woah.’ I sit up straighter. ‘I already told you: I don’t want to be a Leone driver, I—’
‘I know,’ she interrupts. ‘I got your ten voice notes, but unfortunately, you need to step back to move forward.’
‘I can’t give in. That’s exactly what JC wants me to do! You’re no better than my damn brother.’
‘My strategy is far more structured and forward-thinking than whatever you’re currently doing, and if you’d just shut up and let me explain it, you’ll understand why.’
I feel a teensy drop of enjoyment seeing real human emotion squeeze through Jules’ impenetrable shell, but it’s ruined by my sister, whose scrutiny is currently burning a hole in the side of my face.
Through a sigh, I mumble, ‘Go on.’
‘You’re not giving in, you’re owning it,’ Jules clarifies, like it makes a difference. ‘No one likes a sore loser, and every team likes a team player. This is a new chapter for you. You’re excited by the opportunity. You’re hungry for results.’
‘But I’m already doing that. I’m telling the press I’m up for the challenge—’
‘There’s your problem: “challenge” is negative. You need to sound positive and optimistic, even if you’re really saying things need to improve. That’s everything we’re doing here: we’re reframing.’
I never thought of it like that.
Screenshots flash up: Leone’s new joint events with Martinelli, the new retro-inspired crest with tricolore stripes, the new slogan Lo Spirito della Corsa, and me.
‘Over the winter break, Leone rebranded to pull on their “Italian heritage”,’ Jules explains, making air quotes with her fingers.
She reaches up to point at a specific image and her shirt rides up enough to show a sliver of toned stomach.
My mouth goes dry. ‘Here you can see the difference in how they’re projecting themselves.
They’re a three-year-old backmarker constructor, but they want to be a successful legacy brand. You’re going to help them.
‘We’re talking Italian brands, wearing their colour scheme, carefully-selected PR — owning the narrative by being humble and thriving through setbacks. That’s how you get noticed by a bigger team. You can’t just say you’ve changed, you need to prove it. This leads on nicely to…’
The next slide’s heading: HOW YOU PRESENT YOURSELF. Isa’s scribbling so fast I’m surprised smoke isn’t rising from her pen.
‘You’re going to stop being easy prey for the press,’ Jules says, and it’s like a sucker punch. ‘You give them headlines without even trying. We’ll work together on your story and I’ll give you a bank of short, witty, positive answers that’ll see you through most scenarios.
‘Then, when you’re ready, I’ll secure you an interview with Sportif+ where you can talk about your new beginnings, and growing as a driver. In the meantime, we’ll get your publicist seeding subtle stories about how “the move has focused you”.’
That sounds half decent. Maybe I should’ve brought a pen.
‘An interview with Minnie Roberts. Genius,’ Isa gushes, eyes glued to the paper. Kiss ass.
‘Social media,’ calls Jules before I can dispute anything. I’m getting whiplash, she’s going so fast.
‘It’s your turn to get roasted,’ I mutter to Isa.
‘Your channels are excellent,’ Jules states.
What? This is a setup. Did Isa tip her when I wasn’t looking?
‘Clear, consistent, and authentic,’ she goes on. ‘I can really hear his voice – and thankfully it’s not the voice I’m hearing right now.’
‘Yo! Rude much?’
Isa blushes. ‘I listened to your series on becoming a sustainable content creator. The guests were chef’s kiss.’
For the second time tonight, Jules smiles. It’s not ugly, it’s actually kinda— No. Stop that. ‘Thank you, chick.’ Chick. ‘What I need you to do is archive everything from when Tiago ran his accounts.’
‘Wha—’
‘On it!’
‘And we need a bigger focus on Leone,’ Jules adds. ‘He needs to look like part of the furniture, not a guest. Posts from the factory; posts in the garage; posts with his teammate; posts behind the scenes when the comms team are filming TikToks.’
Isa nods eagerly, scribbling hard.
‘You know I’m right here?’
Jules points her clicker at me. ‘You need to look more engaged in said TikToks.’
‘I do look—’
‘And feature in more of them. They’re all of your teammate, and the traction’s decent, especially with a young demographic. It’s worth your while—’
‘That’s the problem! I can’t understand anything, they’re so damn Gen Z.’
‘Well, get researching. You’re proud of this team. Show it.’ It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. ‘Oh, and stop sliding into the DMs of OnlyFans and Instagram models.’
Why the hell would she say that? ‘I don’t—’
‘You totally do,’ Isa rushes to throw in. ‘Overseeing your social channels has fuelled at least six months of therapy.’
‘Why are you reading them? Shit’s private,’ I mutter.
If Jules is as omniscient as she thinks she is, she’d know I haven’t slid anywhere since January. Iron-willed king.
‘It’s never private,’ argues Jules. ‘These women tattle on podcasts about which athletes are in their DMs. They’re only famous because of the attention they get, and they’re excellent at maximising it.’
Trained from podcasts like yours, no doubt.
‘She’s a dream!’ Isa hollers when we’re safely back in the car.
Loathing for that woman hangs over the evening like a fog, but it clears somewhere on the Rickenbacker Causeway, and I start to see her strategy for the gift it is.
As much as it galls me to admit it, she did a good job – a great job.
We have a clear plan for the next couple of months that’ll see me back at Volare in a whirl of Italian fashion and mega brand deals.
‘That was ah-mazing,’ Isa yaps on. ‘The amount of thought and prep work she put into it.’ She raises Jules’ handouts to illustrate her point. ‘You need to do a whole lot better than crashing Tom’s gym session with her.’
‘Ok, I get it.’
I feared as much. I need to rethink my end of the bargain.
It can’t be that hard to make Tom go out with her.
She’s not hideous (on the outside), and some guys are into the whole dominatrix thing.
I need to show some level of value, especially since we might have a potentially legally binding contract.
The question is: how do I do it when I don’t know the guy?
‘She’s different to how I thought she’d be,’ Isa muses.
I scoff. ‘What, you didn’t think she’d be a tyrant?’
‘No.’ She lightly hits my arm. ‘I don’t understand how someone so beautiful, so successful, so brilliant… can be so sad.’