Chapter Fifteen
Luca
“Fuucckkkk!”
My tires screeched as I slammed on the brakes too early, causing my go-kart to skid into the grass.
Georgia’s kart zipped past me and there was no way I could catch her.
After another five laps, I crossed the black line that signaled the end of the race and drove my kart into the pit stop station.
Probably should have been a little embarrassed that Georgia had beaten me, but I was so over this press day, I couldn’t find it within myself to care.
“You hit the brakes a little too hard back there!” Georgia called out. I narrowed my eyes at her rather large, sickening grin as she hopped out of her kart. Climbing out of my own car, I rubbed the grease from my hands onto my pants, giving her a curt nod.
“Show-off,” I grumbled, trailing behind Georgia as we made our way to our press day lunch. Taking a seat at the table, I politely waved at the owner who took that as his cue to come over, much to my dismay.
“Luca Rossi at my karting track!” Antonio gushed. He eyed the two of us like we’d fallen from the heavens. “Grazie! I am just so happy to have the two of you here. I couldn’t believe it when Hermes called and asked if you could enjoy a nice rest day at my karting track!”
“Rest day” was one way to describe today.
“We’re happy to be here,” Georgia smiled. “I used to love this track as a kid, the twists and turns are so fun. One of the best karting tracks in Europe.”
“Indeed, thanks for having us, Antonio. My father told me to say hello.”
He clapped his hands, his face bright as I mentioned my legendary father. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll be over with some sandwiches in a few, hmm?”
Georgia and I nodded our thanks, and I reached for my water glass, taking a small sip. Her face lit up with a bright smile as she watched the ongoing karting race.
“I haven’t been karting in so long…”
“Really?” There was no hiding the disbelief in my voice. “Figured when you weren’t on your simulator, you’d be on a karting track outside Monaco.”
“Just haven’t had time this year.” She shrugged. “I’m looking forward to the small break after Monaco.”
“…so you can go do more racing?” As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I almost regretted my snide tone.
Georgia scrunched her nose. “I do other things.”
“Ah yes. Like paint,” I teased.
She made it too easy.
“Keep up the attitude, Rossi, and I might just drag you to an art exhibition when we’re in Monaco.” Her smug face told me exactly how uncultured she thought I was, and I almost wanted to take her up on the offer just to prove her wrong.
“Good. It might be nice for us to be seen doing something other than racing.”
She scoffed, but said nothing else. My point had been made.
Antonio returned with a tray of sandwiches piled high with prosciutto, mozzarella, and fresh basil. Absolute heaven.
Georgia reached for one immediately. “So, any movement on the Helios Sunglasses sponsorship?” she asked between bites.
“No,” I sighed. “Not surprised. To make matters worse, Anthony’s dad has offered Hermes some additional funding if the Helios Sunglasses contract doesn’t come through.”
I couldn’t bring myself to mention the requirements, although I suspected Georgia could make an educated guess as to what they were. There’s only one reason the father of a wannabe driver would offer millions of euros to a team.
Georgia sighed. “I can’t imagine his terms being worth it. The team would get more money from having a second driver scoring in the top ten and getting points for the team than taking Anthony’s family money. The fans aren’t going to accept a subpar driver, not from Italy’s oldest racing team.”
Every time a driver scored in the top ten, the teams got points which turned into money at the end of the season, but I knew I’d have to do a hell of a lot better than one second-place finish to replace the funding they would get from Anthony. I needed to keep getting on the podium.
“So,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Feeling ready for Monza this week?”
No.
“Yup,” I lied, emphasizing the “p” at the end.
Every mention of Monza made my chest tighten, but of course, it was all anyone wanted to talk about. I knew I couldn’t admit the truth, couldn’t tell her how terrified I was of the upcoming race. How I’d barely slept this week.
Of all the drivers on the grid, I hated the idea of Georgia knowing my weakness. She was strong and confident—she reminded me so much of my father. Fear had never been his weakness, and it certainly wasn’t hers.
Georgia assessed me with another blink. “How does Antonio know your father?” she asked finally. A better subject change; she learned quick.
“I used to race here a lot as a kid. It was my favorite track, and my father brought me here anytime he had a spare weekend.” My throat tightened as I choked on my words, hating how small I sounded.
I looked out at the track, blinking against the bright sun, and there it was: my childhood. The podium where I’d stood at age seven, beaming up at my father while he clapped like I’d just won a world championship. Some of my best memories with my father were at this karting track.
I could still remember that feeling of watching my dad cheer me on. That look of pride in his eyes. In Miami, I’d had a taste of that euphoria again, a reminder of what it was like to win. Part of me wanted more.
“Why did you enjoy this track so much?” Georgia’s question brought me out of my haze.
“It’s like you said, the twists and turns are fun. Plus, it was close enough to home, so my father and I were able to race here together whenever he had a break.”
“I noticed a photo of you and your father in your driver’s room, is that from this track?” I nodded, once again taking a moment to gaze out over the active karting race.
“I used to love it here,” I said finally.
“Used to? Well, sounds like we have some work to do then.”
Before I could spiral further into my own head, a loud voice boomed through the space.
“Who is ready to get their ass kicked?” Edward pulled me into a hug, my neck in a chokehold as he ruffled my hair. Behind him stood Lily and Henri, the two of them shaking their heads at his antics.
“Wha-what are you doing here?” After the exhausting morning, relief surged as Edward stood in front of me, grinning away like a buffoon. His dimpled smile was a welcome sight, even if it came with my teammate.
“Thought I’d come kick your ass on the karting track before doing it in Monza,” Edward laughed. “Dragged these two along so they can watch me dominate!” He nodded his head over to Lily and Henri, who were still standing there with amused looks.
Of course, they’re here to race. And just like that, the relief was gone.
“I’m always down for any chance I can get to show you boys how to win,” Lily chuckled.
“Right.” Georgia clapped her hands, motioning to the four of us. “The track is ready for a little friendly competition.” She stuck her tongue out at Edward, who returned the favor.
“Friendly my ass,” I muttered. As if five professional Formula 1 drivers could have a non-competitive race on a track.
“Aww, come on, Luca, scared of a little competition?” Edward laughed, and I felt myself relax slightly at his beaming face. It was hard to be upset in his presence, and part of me suspected Georgia knew that when she’d invited him.
“Fine. If you all want to get in some practice losing before you do it again this weekend, then don’t let me stop you.”
Georgia stepped forward. “To make things more interesting, I was thinking we’d select the starting order the old-fashioned way: rock, paper, scissors.”
Did the paddock’s most serious and competitive driver just suggest we substitute a qualifying session for a silly game notoriously known for its randomness?
“You’re serious?”
“We don’t joke about rock, paper, scissors, Rossi,” she said solemnly, although she couldn’t stop a grin from crossing her lips.
One by one, hands flew, but the final round came down to me and Georgia.
“Alright, Rossi, on three.” We both raised our fists.
“One, two, three!” Our hands shot out simultaneously, Georgia with paper and me with rock. She let out a triumphant cheer, pumping her fist in the air.
“Don’t get used to it, Dubois!” I yelled after her. “That’ll be the only winning you’ll be doing today.” She waved me off before heading to her kart.
After another quick water break, and some strategic photos of the five of us friends chatting, Antonio ushered me over to the lane entrance.
“Good luck, Luca!” He handed me a small, carefully wrapped gift, his face beaming.
I peeled back the layers of gold tissue paper, and my chest tightened.
Inside was a black-and-white photo of a little boy, holding a trophy much too big for him, standing next to his father.
The smile on Antonio’s face was blinding.
“It’s you and your dad, over two decades ago.
I remember that day. You’d won the race by pulling off some daring pass, and afterward, your father told me he knew you’d be a Formula 1 driver, just like himself. ”
“Wow. I can’t believe you still have this,” I whispered.
That particular race win had been incredibly special. Holding that trophy as a young boy, I wanted nothing more than to be a Formula 1 driver like my father.
He clapped his hands on my shoulder. “Now go teach those Monégasque drivers a lesson, hmm?”
“Sì.” I nodded, slipping the photo into my racing suit where it rested close to my heart.
I made my way to the starting line, getting into the second-place starting position.
“Alright, first one around the course twenty times is the winner!” Antonio called out as I settled into my P2 spot, flickering my eyes to Georgia, whose car was just slightly ahead of mine.
When the final light turned green, I pushed the pedal to the floor and shot forward, launching off the second-place line.
The track’s curves, once familiar, now felt like home again.
Twist. Brake. Accelerate. Slide.
Georgia was right. Racing here on the winding track, it was just fun.
After the tenth lap, I could hear Henri’s engine roaring behind me.
Ignoring him, I continued to focus on Georgia as my kart crept closer to hers on each lap, chasing her down like a cat taunting its prey.
By lap fifteen, I was practically on top of her, but I let my kart simply rest beside hers, knowing that with each lap, Georgia would be second-guessing her moves, wondering why I hadn’t passed her.
As soon as I slid into the penultimate lap, I knew it was my time to shine, my time to remind them all that I was still a force to be reckoned with.
Approaching a sharp turn, I seized the opportunity I’d been waiting for.
I dove to the inside, my kart hugging the track’s edges as I braked hard and late.
The tires screeched in protest as I slid past Georgia as we went side by side.
The moment I felt the rush of fresh air in front of me, I knew I’d overtaken her.
I shot past her, grinning like an idiot as the checkered flag waved in the distance.
Crossing the line first wasn’t just satisfying, it was joy. Pure, uncomplicated, childhood joy.
I yanked off my helmet, hair damp with sweat, and threw both arms in the air before taking a deep bow. Considering I was behind all of them in the actual championship, I probably shouldn’t have looked quite so smug.
“No need to be too impressed with my victory,” I teased, taking a second bow.
Georgia marched up to me, pointing her finger at my chest, but I just continued to smirk at her sour face.
I knew Georgia would be upset with my pass, but seeing her steaming in front of me made that move even more delicious.
She’d had her fun for nineteen laps, but like hell was I going to let a Monégasque win on my track.
If I thought she was cute when she smiled, she was even cuter standing in front of me, face red with her ears practically on fire.
Forget cute. Furious Georgia was gorgeous.
“That move was dangerous, Luca!” I let out another laugh at her ferocity, pulling her flush against my chest as I wrapped her in my arms. Kissing the top of her head, I gave the photographer an opportunity to sneak in a quick, intimate photo.
Georgia let out a small groan, but I was pleasantly surprised when she leaned in, resting her head on my chest. If I was a betting man, I would have sworn she was smiling.
“You’re cute when you’re being a sore loser,” I whispered, earning me a huff. She pulled away, flashing me a small grin in return, and I couldn’t help but beam back at her.
“Feel like I just got sandbagged.” Even through her groan, Georgia couldn’t hide the growing smile on her face. There was something adorable about watching her struggle between her frustration of losing and her willingness to admit she had lost gracefully, at least in front of the camera.
“Correction. You did just get sandbagged,” I smugly corrected, although the smirk on her face told me that while I had won the race, she had won something else.
“So, I guess spending the afternoon karting wasn’t such a bad idea after all?” Georgia looked like the proverbial cat who had got the cream.
Cocky, beautiful, annoying.
“We’ll see if you still feel that way after I make you go golfing with me next week.” My retort did nothing to wipe the cocky grin off her face.
“Now where has this Luca been all season?” Edward had his hands on his hips as he stared at me in disbelief.
“What can I say? Couldn’t let a bunch of non-Italian drivers win on my turf.”
“I don’t think even the great Michael Rossi could have defended that pass,” he snorted. “Toying with Georgia like that? Thought I was watching Michael Rossi out there!” He nudged me playfully in the ribs, his eyes crinkling with laughter.
“I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”
The words came out easily, and for a brief moment, they felt right.
For months, I’d convinced myself that racing just wasn’t for me anymore. That the dread I felt getting into the car was proof I didn’t belong in one.
But after another few races around the track and a round of beers at a local bar, I considered that perhaps that was just an easy excuse, because as much as I hated to admit it, today had been fun.