Page 24 of Racing for Redemption
William emerges from the garage, already zipped into his driver’s suit. His eyes are bright with excitement, but there’s a focused intensity to his demeanor that is striking.
“Ready?” I ask as he approaches.
He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “Well… It depends on whether you’ll praise me or not.”
Is he kidding me?“Mr. Foster?” My eye twitches. We’re notthatclose for this type of joke.
“Yes?” He smirks, knowing he’s getting on my nerves, but enjoying it all the same.
“I asked, are you ready?”
“Born ready, boss.”
As he climbs into the cockpit chuckling, I lean in close. “Remember, this isn’t about setting lap records. We need clean, consistent runs to gather data. Understand?”
William’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I’m struck by the determination in his gaze. “Crystal clear. I won’t let you down.”
As the engine roars to life, I step back and take my seat at center garage, monitoring the time sheets. The car pulls away, and I turn to the monitors, heart racing despite my best efforts to remain calm. I’m not the one driving, but right now, I could puke.
The first few laps are cautious as William gets a feel for the car’s limits. But soon, he’s pushing harder, finding the edge of grip in each corner. The lap times start dropping, and the excitement builds in the engineers’ voices as they analyze the telemetry.
“He’s quicker than Kevin already,” one of them murmurs, disbelief evident in his tone.
I nod, allowing myself a small, nervous smile. “Let’s see if he can maintain it over a longer run.”
As if hearing my challenge, William’s pace becomes even more consistent. Lap after lap, he hits his marks with precision, providing invaluable data for the team. The engineers are having a field day with him. This is the busiest I’ve seen them since I took over the team.
After an hour, I give the signal to the team to bring him in. The car slides to a stop in front of the garage, and William climbs out, pulling off his helmet and balaclava. His face is flushed with exertion, but his hazel eyes are bright with adrenaline.
“Well?” he asks, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice. “Did I do well?”
I study the time sheets for a moment before meeting his gaze. He blew Kevin’s and Nicholas’ performances out of the park. He was running the car at midfield times. Midfield times.Let that sink in, Violet.This is insane. “Not bad,” I concede, fighting to keep my tone neutral. The last thing I want is a cocky driver, so I won’t overpraise him; his head needs to fit the helmet, not outgrow it. “But there’s room for improvement.”
William grins, seeing through my facade. “Admit it, Colton. I impressed you. You’re just being tough, because you liked what you saw.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t quite suppress a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head. We’ve got a long way to go before we’re competitive.”
“The times say otherwise…boss.” He winks and taps my shoulder before joining the engineers.
William engages enthusiastically with them, gesturing animatedly as he describes the car’s handling, goes over the kinks that can be smoothed, and little tweaks needed to bring this car to life on track. There’s an energy radiating from him that seems to infect everyone around. Even the most jaded mechanics are smiling, caught up in his excitement.
You know when you bring a golden retriever to work, and everyone’s faces light up? That’s what happens with William around.
For a moment, I allow myself to hope. Wish. Dream. Maybe, just maybe, we can turn this around.
Blake shows up beside me, tablet in hand. “Impressive stuff,” he murmurs, nodding towards William. “But, we’ve got a problem.”
My stomach drops. “What now?”
He hands me the tablet, open to an email from our PR team. The subject line makes my blood run cold:
“FOSTER SIGNING LEAK - DAMAGE CONTROL NEEDED”
I skim the contents, gritting my teeth a little harder with each word. Someone on the team leaked William’s signing to the press before we could make an official announcement. Social media is already ablaze with speculation, and predictably, mockery.
“Shit,” I mutter, handing the tablet back to Blake. “How bad is it?”
He grimaces. “It’s us and Foster. What do you think, Violet? The usual jokes about desperate teams, and washed-up drivers getting into bed together. Memes about us being ticking bombs. How we’ve brought together the two worst things in the sport. But, there’s also some genuine interest. People are curious to see how this plays out.”
