38. TIAGO
TIAGO
If there’s anything worth breaking our stalemate over, it’s this.
He’s a stubborn motherfucker so I’m not doing this lightly, but I’m stumped over Volare.
I don’t know if the ball’s in my court or theirs, and every time I tried to clarify with Carmine, I got a more ambiguous answer than the last. I suck at this negotiation stuff.
JC’s so much better at it. I could talk to Jules but she wasn’t here through all the contract termination bullshit.
She’s a sick marketer, sure, but she’s not a sports manager.
I draw in the longest breath of my life and knock on his hotel room door.
‘It’s open!’ calls a weirdly female voice from the other side.
My mind spins at hyperspeed. Mr You’re Such a Man Whore, Tiago. Mr This is a Race Weekend, Not a Fuck Around Weekend.
Well. Well. Well.
I thump open the door and— ‘Oh.’
‘You could look pleased to see your sister,’ sneers Isa, sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite Nyla.
‘What are you doing in JC’s suite? Matter of fact, what are you doing period?’
‘I don’t have a living area, and we’re playing chess.’
‘Is that, like,’ I lower my voice, ‘code?’
Nyla’s brow furrows in confusion.
My sister gives me the tightest stare. ‘Code. For. What.’
To be fair, they are sitting around a chess board. ‘Never mind. Is JC here?’
If she’s surprised I’ve come to see him, it doesn’t show as she points to the stairs with her thumb and moves her knight.
Fuck, I hate being the one to fall on my sword but I have to snap out of it. My career’s more important than my pride. Probably.
‘JC?’ I give his bedroom door an uncharacteristic knock before shaking off this strange tension and barging in.
He gave me shit about not consulting him on major career decisions, so here it is.
JC looks up from his laptop from the desk in the corner. I can’t fathom what he’s working on because he’s missed all my engagements this weekend and I haven’t responded to his emails. It’s like a robot wrote them. They’re signed, Regards.
‘?Qué?’ It’s so sharp it spikes my eardrum.
‘I have news, alright, so can we just ditch our issues and deal with this?’
‘Oh, you mean the small matter of when you lied to me for months, made me look incapable of doing—’
‘Volare want me back.’
He stills. ‘How do you know?’
‘Carmine Nocentini cornered me after the interview with Sportif+ and—’
His eyes constrict and I know exactly what he’s picked up on. ‘Define “cornered you”?’
I feel guilty. I hate that I feel guilty. I did nothing wrong. ‘He stopped me and said, “Let’s go for a walk”.’
JC taps a pen against the table. It sounds like a metronome and it’s hiking my blood pressure even higher. ‘And you didn’t think when Volare’s Sporting Director asks to go for a walk that would be a good time to call me?’
‘There wasn’t ti—’
‘You didn’t agree to anything, right?’
He’s unbelievable. Unbelievable. ‘Why do you immediately think I did something wrong?’
‘Because they played you for a fool and you took the bait, Tiago!’
‘What if they were just feeling me out?’
‘Teams don’t feel drivers out over a walk. We’re talking millions of dollars here – lawyers, official channels, maybe even court for breach of contract. Everything has to go through your representation. I respond to evidence, not vibes.’
‘Fuck you!’
‘They’re probably softening you so they can lowball.’
‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘There’s this thing called plausible deniability, dog. Have you heard of it?’
God he’s so annoying. ‘How would you know? You weren’t even there.’
He drops the pen and crosses his arms. ‘Did he ask about how long was left on your contract? Timelines? Buyout? Did he minute it?’
‘I mean, no, but—’
‘What about Leone? I thought things were better.’
‘They are.’
‘I thought you were happy.’
‘I am, but—’
‘Then what the hell are you doing jeopardising that?’
‘I’m not jeopardising anything! You know I’ve wanted to go back to Volare all season. Sue me for taking the opportunity when it landed in my lap. As my manager, you should want me to go to a better team. Sometimes I think you like me stuck at the bottom.’
Heat blazes in his eyes as he shoots to his feet. ‘?Vete a la mierda! I’ve done nothing but fight for your career, you ungrateful bastard, even when you’re trying your best to nuke it.’
‘You’re negative about everything. That’s why I went to Jules in the first place – you’re so single-minded. This right here is a chance to fight for a title again—’
He scoffs. ‘They’re doing even worse than you are.’
‘—and just this once, I thought you could back me. There’s nothing concrete about it. It’s just a chance. If I didn’t grab onto it, what am I even doing in F1?’
‘A chance?’ he repeats smugly, looking at me like I’m still his na?ve five-year-old little brother, and I hate him so, so much for it. ‘Alright. How did Carmine leave it?’
I grit my teeth. ‘He said, “Let’s keep talking”.’
He makes a pitying face and I want to punch it off. ‘Tiago.’
‘Don’t look at me like that.’
He sits back down like this isn’t a big deal at all and I’m a fool for believing otherwise. ‘They’re either hedging their bets or maybe even using you to scare another driver.’
‘You’re so extraordinarily predictable.’
He snorts. ‘Get your head out of your ass.’ He turns back to his laptop.
Fuck him. Fuck this. ‘Hijueputa,’ I spit, and leave to the sound of him barking after me.