Page 32 of Racing for Redemption
“I really should get going,” she says, reaching for her car door. “Early start tomorrow, remember?”
I nod, stepping back to give her space. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep the boss up past her bedtime.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s fondness in the gesture. “Goodnight, William.”
“Goodnight, Violet,” I reply softly.
As she drives away, I stand there for a moment, watching her tail lights disappear into the night.
For now, I’ve got a friend in Violet Colton. And somehow, that’s the biggest victory of all.
The team likes me.
The car is developing.
Even Blake likes having me around.
It seems I’ve finally charmed everyone at Colton Racing, so that’s one less thing to stress about—people hating and wanting me out. Now, the focus is solely on racing. On having fun. On helping this team. And on what we can achieve together.
Chapter 11
Testing my patience
William
Ipass through the glass doors of Colton Racing’s headquarters, nodding at the security guard who finally stopped asking for my ID last week. It’s 5 AM. Three months in, and I’m still not used to the black and red logo that dominates the atrium wall.
I swipe my access card and head toward the drivers’ room. My footsteps echo against the polished floor. Still convinced I’m walking through someone else’s dream.
“Morning, Foster!” A mechanic—Dave or Dan, I still mix them up—waves from the corridor.
“Morning,” I call back, offering a tight smile. The team members keep getting even cozier with me. It’s refreshing. They’re more like a family than the corporate machine I’d imagined. Makes sense, given how long most of them have worked here. Through the glory days, and the recent struggles. Still, they have a passion and warmth that many would no longer have in otherteams. It’s frustrating to work for a team where “struggling” has been a state of mind for a decade.
I enter the locker room and change quickly. The Colton Racing gear still feels stiff and unfamiliar against my skin. The red and black accents pop against the white, making me appear taller than my actual height. A small blessing in this sport of giants.
My phone buzzes. Text from James:
Meeting pushed to 2 PM. Extra sim time – use it wisely.
I type back a quickOn it,and pocket the phone. The simulator room is quiet when I enter. Screens glow with data from yesterday’s session. I’ve been putting in extra hours, learning every millimeter of track that’ll matter this season. Nicholas, my teammate, treats simulator work like a chore. I treat it like oxygen.
“William.” Johnson, our lead engineer, looks up from his tablet. “Good timing. I’ve adjusted the downforce parameters based on your feedback.”
“How’s it feel?” I ask, eyeing the setup.
“Like you’ll have more grip through sector two at Imola. But we’ve sacrificed some straight-line speed.” We’ve been focusing a lot on Imola as this was the track in which Colton Racing absolutely had no pace last year. It is the temple of speed, but they were slow as a snail, ending up with Nicholas DNFing, and Kevin, the guy who disappeared, being lapped three times by the race winner.
I nod, already calculating the trade-off in my head. “Let’s test it.”
The simulator seat fits my body perfectly now; two months of adjustments, and tiny changes after each session. I pull on the gloves, then grab the wheel. This is more real to me than most things in my life.
Johnson hands me a bottle of water. “Three flying laps, then we’ll compare with yesterday’s times.”
I slip on the balaclava and helmet, and sink into the familiar trance. The virtual track materializes before me, and everything else falls away. This is where I belong. Where I make sense.
My mind drifts as I hit the first straight. Three months ago, I was groveling for a place in this team, telling Violet we needed each other, while no other Team Principal took my calls. Not because I lacked talent—everyone knew I had that—but because I was an idiot with a short fuse who was robbed of the F2 title.
I like to believe that I’ve matured a bit since I joined the team, but I’ve yet to race or find an asshole that will test that and take me to a breaking point, so… I can’t be so sure. But I’ve made an effort.
