Paddock Spin

1. Elizabeth

I’ve always been good under pressure.

Where others crumble, I thrive. My mind clears. My focus sharpens. And my gut never steers me wrong. That’s why I’ve made a living out of turning scandals into footnotes.

But as I stand in front of every single staff member of Martine Racing, my usual confidence is nowhere to be found.

But this is the gig. Ready or not, I make a speech that assures the company everything is under control.

My control.

“Good afternoon,” I say in the practiced tone I mastered after my first crisis job.

I was 25 and the only woman in the room.

Every time I spoke, a man would interrupt me, or worse, talk over me.

It was infuriating, especially when they would listen to my male colleague who simply repeated what I had just said.

I left that meeting determined to never be brushed aside at work again.

Though there are still men who will never take me seriously—even at 34 and with more major wins than Serena Williams—it’s always my pleasure to show them what happens when you underestimate women.

“My name is Elizabeth Jacobs, and I am a crisis specialist. I’m here to work closely with David and support the communications team in the weeks to come. ”

There are a few nods, but most people look dazed or more than a little tense.

I don’t blame them. After only three races in the nine month-long season, they woke up to the news that their leader, a handsome Italian man named Elio Rocca, as well as Stanislaus “Stas” Dubinksy, one of the team’s two drivers and the reigning world champion, were both arrested in the middle of the night.

Despite that, the team has to travel to an entirely different country and perform at the top of their game in two days—because it’s not just the cars that are expected to run at 200 miles per hour.

Martine Racing can’t afford any more shake-ups. There can be no employees jumping ship and no media surprises. The full focus needs to be on racing. So the first part of my job is to make the team’s employees understand that Martine Racing is not only still standing, but moving forward.

And the second part? That’s the harder one. Because I have to make everyone else in the world believe it, too.

“I know the information you’ve learned today is a shock,” I say into the microphone. “I’m sure you’re all worried and have many questions. David will address all of them soon. I want to reassure you that we have a plan. And that Martine Racing will emerge both better and stronger.”

The lobby we’re in is all glass, chrome, and marble, and though the space is filled with people, it’s so quiet that my voice echoes back at me.

“Well that’s good news,” a man says, breaking the thick silence.

It’s easy to spot him. He’s the disarmingly attractive one standing in the front row.

There’s no missing his dark, messy hair, the tan that speaks to significant time spent outdoors, dimples that even the two-day beard lining his strong jaw can’t hide, and eyes the color of molten caramel.

If his looks hadn’t distinguished him, where everyone else is in business casual, he’s sporting a pair of black gym shorts and a grey hoodie with the sleeves cut off, exposing his muscular arms. “The even better news is that you have me.”

There are titters around the room, genuine smiles, and even a few good-natured eyerolls. Which is...great. But I get the sense that everyone expects me to be in on the joke.

And for that to happen, I would need to know who this man is.

I despise being caught unaware. My job hinges on knowing everything and being prepared for whatever might come my clients’ way. Not having an answer means having a weakness—and when you deal with high-stakes situations daily, weakness will get you fired fast.

But the truth is that I am shockingly ill-prepared for this meeting.

I planned to put my business-class seat to good use so that I would be a subject matter expert by the time I landed.

I buckled my seat belt and asked the flight attendant for the biggest cup of coffee he was legally allowed to give me.

The next thing I knew, that same flight attendant was gently waking me up because we had landed at Heathrow.

I did my best to brush up on the critical facts during the car ride from the airport to the team’s headquarters outside of London. So what I know is this:

1. Elio Rocca and Stas Dubinsky were both arrested at their homes just after 1am on suspicion of being involved with an organized crime syndicate.

2. In F1, each team has two drivers who compete for the team in the Constructors’ Championship, as well as against each other in the Drivers’ Championship. In each race, both the drivers and teams who finish in the top 10 receive points that count toward who wins each season.

3. Martine Racing is a respected team with a long history in motorsports. Just yesterday, articles were calling them the team to beat this season. But now, all anyone can talk about is how their season is already over.

Outside of that? I’m clueless.

And there’s nothing to be done about it right now.

So I take a deep breath and look directly at the man.

It’s not the first time I’ve encountered a personality hire who refuses to adhere to the dress code.

He’s standing near David, so he’s probably part of the comms team.

Maybe social media? But considering what he said, it’s more likely that he works very closely with the press. “I take it you’re my media liaison.”

“Something like that,” he says, his Boston accent dripping with both derision and charm.

It hits me full force and I blink hard. I was so fixated on his appearance that I completely missed the fact that he’s American.

I usually never let surprise show, but he’s caught me on a very unusual day.

There’s now a wicked grin on his face and dangerous glint in his eyes—as if I’m the exact type of prey he prefers.

What he doesn’t realize is that no one catches me unless I allow it to happen.

I’m still staring at him when Baz Reynolds, the fit, silver-haired CEO of Martine Racing, claps his hands together.

“I think that about wraps things up for now, folks! I know this is a challenging time, but as Miss Jacobs said, we will emerge better and stronger. If you need anything, especially in regards to mental and emotional support, please reach out. We’re here for you. And we’ll see you all through this.”

Employees scatter, talking quietly as they head back to their work. Though David is quickly at my side, ushering me to my next meeting, I can still feel eyes on me.

And I’m willing to bet that they’re the color of caramel.