Page 13 of Formula Chance

I hold Matthieu’s gaze. “We all have our jobs to do. If we execute the strategy properly, we can get wins for the team. That includes you.”

I glance at Nash, who’s been silent the entire time. His expression is hard to read, but I can see he’s interested in the conversation. While I didn’t expect him to come to my defense—because I don’t need defending, especially from him—I had expected him to give input since he’s raced in Jeddah a few times. But he remains pensive and aloof.

“I think this is settled for now,” Hendrik says after a long silence, clearly eager to move the conversation along. “We’ll keep refining the strategies, but the final decisions will be made at the track based on how things look once we have more data. Let’s get to work.”

The other engineers scurry to do the million things they need to do and Matthieu and Bernie bolt for the door. Nash lags behind, talking to one of the tire guys, and I prepare to head back to my office.

“Bexley… a word,” Hendrik says, halting me in my tracks.

I bestow a curious smile, eager to help. “What’s up?”

“I get you’re trying to find your way in FI, but a bit of advice.” He pauses, shoves his hands in his front pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet casually. “You need to tone down the way you talk to the drivers. It comes off a little…” He seems to be searching for the word, but I can tell he already has it in mind. “A little bitchy. Like it’s that time of the month or something.”

My jaw locks, simply to prevent it from dropping open. I should have expected this shit as I’ve had to put up with it from the time I started having an opinion on racing. If you go against the grain, or dare have an opinion contrary to someone else, you’re seen as overly emotional and without reason or logic. It infuriates me and I guess I expected the people in FI would be more evolved or something.

Apparently not.

While I don’t want to get into it with the chief engineer, as none of us have time for it, I can’t help but ask, “Maybe soften my voice a little?” I ask sweetly.

“Yes, that would help.”

“Smile more,” I add, as if struck by genius.

He starts to nod and then I can see he understands that I’m not making genuine suggestions at all. His tone goes icy. “Just stay in your lane, Toliver.”

“Always do,” I reply with a straight face. “It’s a basic tenet in racing.”

Hendrik stares at me a moment longer and then turns on his heel. I sigh and then from the corner of my eye see Nash moving to the door. When he reaches it, he turns back and says, “You shouldn’t let him talk to you that way.”

And I bristle, because he’s right, and I don’t want him to be right. “Your advice is not something I need.”

Nash shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He exits the room and somehow, I feel worse about that tiny exchange with Nash than I do about the misogynistic comments from my boss.

CHAPTER 5

Nash

Jeddah is oneof those cities that gets under your skin, but in the best possible way. I’ve spent the day exploring since I had no immediate commitments. We arrived late last night, the city ablaze with lights in the middle of a dark desert. Our hotel is right on the Corniche, a dazzling waterfront promenade along the Red Sea, a portion of which is surrounded by the racetrack. I was up at first light to check things out in the bright light of day.

The contrast between the old and new is jarring. I walked the ancient streets of Al-Balad with its coral-stone buildings and carved wooden balconies. The markets were overwhelming to the senses with colorful fabrics, delicate ceramics, fragrant spices and vendors calling out in a mad effort to get me to buy something. It was fun and a little daunting, but then I turned a corner to find myself back among the sleek skyscrapers and futuristic architecture along the Corniche.

After a delicious meal ofkabsamade from basmati rice cooked in a broth of tomatoes, onions, and rich spices (cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and black lime), I headed over to the paddock to meet up with the rest of the team.

The Saudi Arabian Global Prix is only in its fourth year, and I was fortunate to be a part of the inaugural race. The track is a street circuit that uses existing roads modified to meet formula standards and work to shut down those streets began last week with new detours throughout the city of Jeddah. There are many things that make this race unique and challenging.

Because the track is so long—the longest in formula racing at 6.174 kilometers—the design allows for drivers to be at full throttle for almost seventy percent of each lap, reaching higher than normal sustained speeds. The track conditions can vary radically since it sits at the edge of the Red Sea, and temperature and wind fluctuations can drastically change conditions from qualifying rounds to the actual race, making all the things we prepare for sometimes moot. But that’s up to the strategy folks to pivot.

What I love best about Jeddah, though, is that it’s a night race. The entire track is illuminated with high-tech lighting systems to enhance the visual spectacle for the fans.

Because this track is so new, the paddock and garages are all housed within the pit building, a state-of-the-art facility that runs parallel to the main straight. Normally, teams transport over their own modular buildings that house race operation offices, hospitality suites for sponsors and VIPs, and other meeting rooms for strategy sessions, as well as relaxation accommodations for the crew. But here in Jeddah, all of that is provided and it’s plush, costing an estimated $500,000,000 to build.

The week ahead will be busy and although I’m merely an observer, Luca requested I be “involved.”

“You speak your mind if you need to,” he’d told me in his subtle Italian accent that’s been thinned over the years in formula racing. “Your job is to observe and help us strategize based on your experience here.”

I’ve never had a problem doing such a thing, but mostly I’m glad to have firsthand observation on how things are working, given the new ownership under Brienne Norcross.

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