CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CLARKE AND CECI
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Clarke and Ceci
Clarke
How the fuck did this happen? He’d started on pole, Anker had been right behind him. And fucking Tilney behind him. That was bad enough. But Tilney had a phenomenal start, shooting like a rocket out ahead. He was in front now, with Clarke and Anker battling for second.
Tilney had yet to mount the podium, but his performance was getting steadily better with each race. He could do it this time.
He might do it this time. Damn it. He might finish before me.
This race felt like a must-win if Clarke wanted to have a chance at that trophy.
Could he lose and still win the championship?
Technically yes, as long as he didn’t finish below third.
But if that happened, it was going to be much more difficult from then on.
There were only five races left after this one, and it was close between him and Anker.
Just focus on getting the win. Don’t think about the last couple months. Don’t think about her.
Don’t.
And don’t think about Tilney being up ahead. But that was probably the most difficult thing for him to do.
Race Engineer: Okay, Clarke you’re looking good here. Careful on the approach. You guys have had a couple of near misses already.
Ceci
Ceci was gritting her teeth.
What are they doing?
Anker: Can anybody explain to me what those two motherfuckers are doing?
They’re acting like they’re the only two drivers on the track.
There they go again. How many times have I had to dodge those two idiots?
Tilney, I get—fucking douche. But Clarke?
Hey Ceci, you out there? Where the fuck is the cool, calm, collected, and patient Sir Lancelot? Can you tell me that?
It’s Sir Galahad.
And no, she couldn’t. Although she knew things Anker didn’t, it didn’t excuse what she was witnessing. Such behavior from Tilney was hardly surprising. But she expected better from Clarke.
Team principals rarely communicated with drivers during the race. Usually all communication was between the driver and the race engineer. But now Ceci felt compelled to talk with Anker directly.
Ceci: Forget about those two, Ian. You’re close, real close. You can still win this.
Especially if those two keep driving the way they are and crash. That could create an opening for Anker to fly past them.
But she couldn’t say that aloud. It made her sick just thinking it.
Ceci was convinced Clarke had solved that problem on the final turn given his performance in the past few races. If Anker didn’t step it up, Clarke looked primed to win the championship. Unless of course, Tilney stopped him, which he looked intent on doing.
Did Clarke ever consider how difficult this was for her?
Even before she’d been forced to hire Tilney?
Did he understand she had a drive to win every bit as strong as his?
Not to mention she’d worked just as hard to get where she was.
Probably harder, given she was a woman in a man’s world and there wasn’t a day when she wasn’t reminded of that fact.
Clarke
Race Engineer: Okay, Clarke, we’re coming up to lap forty-seven. Ten more laps to go. Tilney’s tires are shot. They’ve got to be. He’s going to have to pit, probably on this next lap. You can last to the end.
No response.
Race Engineer: Clarke? Did you hear me?
Clarke: Yeah, I heard you. I can last. But—I think I can take him. On this turn up ahead.
Race Engineer: No, not a smart move. I think that’s just what he wants. I can see him moving in. Remember Anker is just behind you. Focus on keeping him there. Don’t just think about today’s race, think about that trophy.
Ceci
Ceci had just about seen it all. But this was the first time she felt horror watching a driver make a move to pass.
Anker: Fuck!
In the flash of a second, Ceci thought, they’re going to hit.
And then she blinked and watched in wonder, fascination, and even admiration as Clarke, with that characteristic deftness and those soft hands, made maneuvering over seventeen hundred pounds of machine moving at high speed look as airy and easy as sweeping a paintbrush across a canvas.
With those delicate and laser-focused feet, he tapped the brakes with just enough force and at just the right time to pass a rattled Tilney and jump out in front.
Clarke
No looking in the rearview mirror, he told himself. Leave those two fuckers in the dust. He was going to win and put himself out in front for that trophy.
Race Engineer: Brilliant, Clarke! Fucking brilliant! I don’t think I’ve ever seen better handling or control. Oh shit. Slow down. Red flag, Clarke!
Clarke: I see it. Who crashed?
The red flag meant a bad collision. They’d stop the race and see if the guy was okay to continue. Worst case scenario, the guy would be badly injured and rushed to the hospital. No, thought Clarke, there is one scenario even worse.
He’d been bottled up back there with Tilney and Anker. It couldn’t be either of them. He hoped whoever it was, they were okay.
Even if it was that douchebag, Tilney.